Shadowwwing
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40. The Lightest Step
🕑 Added 2025-05-01 22:00:04 +0000 UTCJiang picked his way down the narrow track winding away from the Sect, boots sinking into the crust of last night’s snow. Every step carried him further from the sprawling halls and carved stone courtyards, and with it, something inside him uncoiled. The mountain air, sharp with frost, bit at his skin through the gaps in his hunting leathers, but he welcomed the sting.
He adjusted the pack slung over one shoulder—lighter than it ought to be, considering how long it would take him to reach the area the servant said the lead had come from, but then, he hadn’t owned much to begin with anyway.
The further he got from the Sect, the lighter he felt. It was like shaking free a burden he hadn’t known he was carrying. The endless lectures, the layered expectations, the low, constant buzz of hierarchy pressing down from every direction—it all fell away. Out here, there were no Elders to impress, no lines he had to toe just to be tolerated. There was only the mountain, the trees, and the stretch of land ahead.
He crested a low ridge and paused, catching his bearings. Below, the trees thinned, giving way to the winding road that led down to the town at the base of the mountain that he’d passed through on his way to the Sect.
Beyond that was nothing but the untamed wilds, stretching toward a dozen different provinces and occasionally broken by the odd bit of civilisation. Somewhere out there, his family waited. Somewhere out there, the Hollow Fangs had tucked themselves into some forgotten corner, thinking no one would bother hunting them down.
Jiang’s jaw tightened. Let them think that. Let them get comfortable.
The next time he found them, he wouldn’t let them slip away so easily. He wouldn’t have to rely on calling someone else to come and take care of the bandits because he was too weak.
He started down the slope, boots finding easy purchase even in the snow. The town wouldn’t be far now—maybe another hour if he pushed, less if he didn’t care about burning through energy he couldn’t replace yet. He had to be careful about that. His cultivation made the cold manageable and turned the hike into something almost leisurely, but he was still only in the first realm. His Qi was far from bottomless, and while he would be fine as long as it lasted, running out of Qi would leave him as little better than a mortal stranded in the woods in the middle of winter.
Even for an experienced hunter, that could quickly become a death sentence – and he was far from the familiar forests around his home. He didn’t know what dangers lurked here.
He flexed his fingers absently, feeling the steady thrum of energy in his blood. His Qi would last him to the town easily enough, and once he reached some better roads and gentler terrain it shouldn’t be too hard to find a sustainable pace.
He mentally tallied what he’d need once he hit town. First, a map. While he – roughly – knew the area that the servant had mentioned the lead came from, that didn’t mean he knew how to get there. ‘North-ish’ was hardly going to cut it.
Besides, even once he got to the rough region he had in mind, it was still a fairly broad stretch of country, so it would be helpful to at least have an idea of which roads to follow. Getting lost chasing ghosts wouldn’t help anyone.
Second, supplies. His bow was still a broken wreck shoved into the bottom of his pack. He’d need either a new one or someone who could repair it. Preferably new – while a part of him wanted to keep using his father’s bow from sentimentality alone, he doubted there was much life left in the old one, and he didn’t have time to wait around for repairs.
He’d need a better pack, too. Something that could actually carry more than a few days’ worth of supplies. Jerky for when the hunting was bad. A spare waterskin in case he lost one. Maybe a compass if he could afford it.
Jiang frowned and slowed his steps, mind racing ahead of his feet.
Afford.
It was a rather obvious thing to forget, but supplies cost silver, and he… didn’t have any. One of the downsides of his habit of taking action before thinking everything through – though, in fairness, it probably wouldn’t have made a difference in this case. The Sect didn’t exactly hand out pocket money to outer disciples – the bare necessities were taken care of, and for everything else contribution points were used.
Jiang briefly wondered if that was on purpose, to make it that much more difficult for anyone to leave, but dismissed the thought a moment later. Even if it was true, it didn’t change his current situation.
He grimaced, stopping at the base of a tree and running a hand through his hair. He could trade, maybe. Pelts, meat—things he could hunt for. But that would take time, and time wasn’t something he had much of to spare.
As much as he disliked even thinking of it… theft was always an option. Not a good one, by any means, but he wasn’t in a position to avoid having to at least consider it. A clean snatch – lifting a pouch from an inattentive merchant, or slipping a hand into an open pocket could score him enough to supply himself. As an added bonus, he’d be leaving the town almost immediately anyway, which would make getting away with it easier.
He sighed, breath curling in the cold air.
No.
While he was pragmatic enough to make hard decisions if the situation called for it, that didn’t mean criminal behaviour should be his first port of call. Even putting aside the moral implications, he didn’t exactly have any practice in the art of pickpocketing, and even if he got away clean it wouldn’t take much for word to spread. The last thing he needed was someone putting a bounty on his head before he even got started.
But while taking the moral stance might have felt good, it didn’t solve his financial problems. Jiang huffed another sigh before setting off, quickly falling into the sort of loping run that devoured the miles.
Maybe there would be some work he could do in town, even if it was just chopping some firewood or cleaning some dishes. The physical labour wouldn’t bother him thanks to his cultivation, and while it was unlikely to pay well, he would hopefully be able to gather enough coin to purchase his supplies.
Clearly, he was going to have to figure out some way of making money going forward – this was unlikely to be the last time he ran into the problem on his journey.
— — —
The town came into view as Jiang rounded the last bend of the trail, its squat wooden wall rising out of the snow-covered fields like a half-hearted promise of safety. Weathered planks leaned at uneven angles, patched here and there with fresher timber where rot or storms had taken their toll.
Calling it functional would be generous – some of the sections were barely taller than Jiang himself, and he could hardly be considered tall. Then again, they probably weren’t too worried about being attacked, considering the Azure Sky Sect was at most a few minutes away at the speed higher-level cultivators could travel. Any bandit gang attacking this town wouldn’t make it far.
Jiang slowed his pace as he approached the gates, eyes flicking to the raven that fluttered down to perch atop them. He couldn’t quite pinpoint when it had started following him, but he was pretty sure it had been a few hours ago.
Two guards stood under the archway, the heavy timber doors propped open to admit a trickle of morning traffic. A merchant wagon creaked by, pulled by a pair of shaggy oxen, the driver hunched low against the cold. A few bundled figures on foot trudged past, heads down, faces red from the wind.
Even that level of traffic was a little surprising. Travelling through winter was certainly possible, but generally discouraged for obvious reasons. Not only were the paths themselves more treacherous, but hungry predators were far more likely to attack – to say nothing of spirit beasts.
The guards straightened when they saw him coming. Both wore matching wool-lined cloaks over battered lamellar armour, iron caps pulled low over their brows. Their weapons were serviceable—short spears, swords at their hips—but nothing special.
Liǔxī hadn’t been big enough to warrant having proper guards – hell, it hadn’t even been large enough for them to have a wall at all. The closest to a town guard they had was a couple of retired soldiers and Jiang’s father – back when he’d still been alive.
Which, in hindsight, was probably why they’d been targeted.
Jiang shook off the maudlin thoughts, squaring his shoulders and moving to pass through the gates.
“Hold up, boy,” the man called out, raising a hand to stop him. His voice wasn’t unkind, but there was a roughness to it, the casual authority of someone used to being obeyed.
Jiang stopped, keeping his expression neutral. The guard stepped closer, frowning down at him.
“You out here by yourself?” the guard asked. His spear butt thudded lightly into the packed snow as he leaned on it.
“…Yes?” Jiang responded, raising an eyebrow.
The guard exchanged a look with his companion, a younger man with a round face and the beginnings of a winter beard. The younger one shifted his weight, looking faintly uncomfortable.
“You from around here?” the first guard asked. “Parents know you’re out wandering the woods?”
Ah.
Jiang exhaled slowly through his nose. He’d almost forgotten what this was like – he’d built enough of a reputation for himself back in Liǔxī that nobody had treated him like a child, and he’d lied about his age at the Sect so it hadn’t come up either. With the exception of the Matron, of course, but he rather suspected that she would have treated him like an unruly child no matter how old he’d been.
He felt a sudden pang as he realised he hadn’t even thought about saying goodbye to her. They might not have been particularly close, or anything – the knowledge of his status as a cultivator had always hovered over them – but he’d probably still been closer to her than anyone else in the Sect.
It was probably for the best, anyway. He didn’t know what the procedures were for leaving the Sect, but he rather doubted they including slinking away at night. Saying goodbye may have put her in the awkward situation of either having to alert the Elders, or risk being blamed as an accomplice or something.
“I’m not from here,” Jiang said, keeping his voice steady. “I’m just passing through.”
The older guard grunted, clearly unconvinced. “Running errands for your folks, then? Bit far from the house, aren’t you?”
Jiang fought the urge to rub a hand over his face. “No. Traveling alone. I’m heading north.”
The guards exchanged another look. Jiang caught the shift in their posture—a little more alert, a little less casual. Kids running errands didn’t travel alone, and they sure didn’t head north into unfamiliar country in the dead of winter.
“You got somewhere to stay in town?” the younger one asked, a little more carefully.
“Not yet. Like I said, I’m just passing through,” he repeated, hoping they would pay attention this time. “I probably won’t be staying the night.”
The first guard studied him for a moment, then sighed, rubbing a gloved hand across the back of his neck. “Listen, kid. You can’t just wander around out here. Winter’s no joke, even for folks twice your size. If you’re lost or ran away from something, better to tell us now. Nobody’s gonna toss you out for needing help.”
Jiang ground his teeth together. He could tell they weren’t trying to be cruel. They were just doing what made sense—assuming he was someone who needed protecting. But it still grated, made something hot and stubborn twist under his ribs.
“I’m not lost,” he said evenly. “I’m not running from anything. I’m here for supplies. Then I’ll be moving on.”
The older guard gave him a long, measuring look. For a second, Jiang thought he might insist on dragging him to the local magistrate or something, but then he shrugged.
“Your funeral, kid,” he said, voice more resigned than angry. “Just stay out of trouble while you’re here. Lotta merchants in town for winter trades. Last thing anyone needs is a kid stirring things up.”
“I won’t,” Jiang said.
The guard stepped aside, jerking his head toward the gate. Jiang took the invitation without hesitation, slipping past the two men and into the town proper.
“If you change your mind, talk to Madame Wei at the Red Pine Inn,” the guard called after him.
Jiang waved a hand in thanks, but didn’t respond. It actually was a helpful suggestion – if anyone would know where he could find good traveling supplies, it would be an innkeeper. Plus, with a bit of luck, they might have some work he could do to earn enough to actually pay for said supplies.
Behind him, he caught the muttered words—low enough that he wasn’t supposed to hear, but clear in the cold air. “Poor bastard’s gonna freeze before he makes it five miles.”
“None of our business,” the younger guard responded.
“Oh, for— this is why Xin keeps refusing to promote you, ya know. We’re the town guard, it is literally our business if someone is going to either cause trouble, or get themselves in it.”
Jiang rolled his eyes to himself as their voices faded behind him. He didn’t begrudge them the concern, as such. A normal child heading out into the forest in winter likely wouldn’t be seen again – but then, he wasn’t a normal child.
The town opened up around him—narrow, muddy streets crusted with snow, low stone and timber buildings huddled close against the wind, smoke rising in thin columns from chimneys. Traders’ stalls had been pulled in from the main square to the more sheltered alleys, colourful awnings drooping under the weight of frost.
Jiang tucked his chin against the wind and pressed on, heading for the soft glow of light and conversation coming from the inn.
Supplies first. Then a map. Then the road north.
