Group 22: Yuan He, Deng Shou, Liang Wen

  Yuan He’s eyes widened.

  "So," a deep rumble sounded right behind his ear, making Yuan He nearly jump out of his skin. "We’re in this together."

  Yuan He spun around to find Deng Shou looming over him. The massive man had a way of appearing silently that was starting to give Yuan He the genuine creeps. For someone built like a fortress, he moved with the stealth of a mountain mist.

  "How do you keep doing that?" Yuan He hissed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You’re giving me the creeps, Deng Shou. A man your size shouldn't be able to teleport like that. It’s physically impossible."

  Deng Shou didn't answer, his eyes already drifting back to the board. He crunched his heavy brows together as he read the third name. "Liang Wen

  "Probably in the annals of 'People Most Likely to Nap During a Breakthrough,'" a new voice chimed in. It was light, elegantly playful, and carried a touch of exhaustion.

  A young man stepped up beside them, looking at the board with a small, easy smile. Even in the plain, grey robes of an outer-sect disciple, he possessed a refined, noble air. Yuan He’s eyes immediately went to the gear the newcomer carried: a long, lacquered scroll tube slung across his back, several fine-tipped brushes tucked into a specialized belt, and fingers that were perpetually stained with faint, dark ink.

  "Ah," the newcomer said, looking between the two of them. "It seems I’ve been grouped with the two most popular disciples in the Outer Sect. What a heavy burden for a simple man like me."

  Yuan He looked at the ink stains and the scroll tube. "Are you Liang Wen? You're... a talisman user?"

  Liang Wen blinked, then let out a sharp, delighted laugh, clapping his hands together. "Oh! He’s a sharp one, isn't he? How could you possibly know I use talismans? I mean, besides the giant tube of paper, the brushes, and the fact that I smell like a calligraphy shop?" He grinned, leaning in slightly. "Smart! Very smart. I can see why the

  Before Yuan He could ask where he got that moniker, Elder Chen’s voice captured the plaza’s attention one last time. "Again, review your mission carefully. If there's nothing else, you're all dismissed."

  With the crowd dispersing, the trio stepped into a quieter corner to examine their specific assignment. Yuan He unrolled the small scroll they had been issued.

  

"Mission: Lisong Town," Yuan He read aloud. "Objective: Investigate and eliminate a budding bandit nest that has been harassing the mountain pass."

  "A bandit nest?" Deng Shou commented, crossing his massive arms over his chest. "It doesn't sound too bad. Clearing out criminals is exactly what's expected of Inner Sect disciples. It's a standard test of combat and coordination."

  Yuan He looked at Liang Wen. The playful, bored expression had vanished for a split second. The talisman user was staring at the words with a focused, almost worried intensity.

  "Liang Wen?" Yuan He prompted.

  The boy blinked, his light smile returning instantly. "Oh? Right. Sorry. I was just calculating how many 'Protection From Boredom' talismans I’ll need for the trip." He straightened up, suddenly much more talkative. "But seriously, if we're doing this, we need to move. I have a very specific nap schedule to maintain, and 'walking toward bandits' usually ruins it."

  He started pacing in a small circle, his hands moving animatedly. "We’ll need ink—good ink, none of that watered-down soot the Outer Sect provides. And food! If I'm going to be a hero, I refuse to do it on an empty stomach. Are we meeting at the gate? Because I'm terrible with mornings. Truly. If you see me at dawn and I look like a corpse, just ignore it."

  Yuan He looked at the mountain of a man and then at the talkative youth, realizing he was now the one responsible for keeping this strange trio from falling apart before they even reached the town.

  "Right," Yuan He said, cutting through Liang Wen's chatter. "I guess we’d better prepare. Go get your gear. We’ll meet near the sect gates at dawn tomorrow. And Liang Wen? Try to be at least half-alive when you get there."

  Liang Wen gave a shallow, elegant bow, his grin widening. "I’ll bring the paper, you bring the brains, and Big Guy here can bring... whatever it is big guys bring. See you at the crack of 'too-early,' Boss!"

  With a shared nod of agreement, the three parted ways, each disappearing into the flow of disciples heading back to their respective dwellings to pack for the journey. Deng Shou moved with heavy, deliberate purpose, while Liang Wen practically skipped away, complaining loudly to no one in particular about the injustice of early mornings.

  Standing alone on the dais, Elder Chen watched their retreating figures until they were swallowed by the morning mist and the bustling crowd of disciples. His face remained a neutral mask of aged stone, his hands tucked deep within his sleeves, betraying nothing of his thoughts. He remained there, a silent, immovable sentry over the emptying plaza, before finally turning on his heel and retreating into the cold shadows of the Grand Hall without a word.

  The dawn air was a physical weight, thick with mountain mist that clung to the grey stone of the sect’s outer gates. Yuan He arrived first, his breath blooming in pale clouds. He had spent the night checking and re-checking his gear—not for weapons, but for the basic necessities the other disciples usually treated as an afterthought.

  If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  His pack was a simple, sturdy canvas bag, but it was packed with a precision that bordered on neurotic. Inside, he had a small wooden box of charcoal-and-herbal soap he’d carefully bartered for, a clean change of inner robes sealed in a wax-lined pouch to keep out the damp, and a modest stash of dried berries and salted nuts he’d pinched from his recent stipends. He wasn't rich enough for spiritual artifacts or specialized arrays, but he was damned if he was going to spend three months smelling like a wet goat or eating nothing but flavorless grain paste.

  Deng Shou appeared a few minutes later, stepping out of the fog like a looming ghost. He carried a pack that looked heavy enough to crush a smaller man, yet he moved with his usual, unsettling silence. He carried no weapon; he relied entirely on the reinforced density of his own frame.

  "You’re early," Deng Shou noted, his voice a low vibration in the quiet morning.

  "Habit," Yuan He replied, adjusting the strap of his bag. "I’d rather be standing around bored than sprinting to the gate at the last second. Anyway, where’s our new friend?"

  Right on cue, a long, dramatic yawn echoed from the path leading down from the disciple dormitories. Liang Wen shuffled into view, looking exactly as he had promised: half-dead. He was wrapped in a thick, fur-lined cloak that looked far too expensive for an outer-sect disciple, and he moved as if every step were a personal insult.

  "It’s a crime," Liang Wen muttered, stopping beside them and leaning heavily against the gate post. "Slaying bandits is one thing, but slaying my sleep cycle? That’s the real villainy here."

  Yuan He looked at Liang Wen’s remarkably small pack. "Is that all? We're going to be gone for months, Liang Wen."

  "I pack for efficiency, Boss," Liang Wen said, patting a leather case at his hip that shimmered with the scent of high-grade ink. "Besides, since we're heading toward Lisong Town anyway, it’s practically on the way to my family's estate. Why don't we stop by the Liang Clan first? We can resupply, sleep in actual beds, and I can grab more paper. It’ll save us the trouble of lugging extra weight now."

  Yuan He’s eyes widened, his posture instantly becoming rigid. He looked at the fine fur of Liang Wen's cloak and the elegant scroll tubes. The realization hit him like a cold drenching—Liang Wen was another Young Master. His mind flashed to Sun Ba’s arrogance, the casual cruelty of the high-born, and his muscles stiffened with instinctive distrust.

  Deng Shou’s heavy brows crunched together. "The Liang Clan... I remember now. A merchant clan, right? Sun Ba used to complain about you. He said the Liang Clan was stiffing the Sun family on trade routes and causing his father a lot of distress."

  "Yup! That’s the Liang Clan alright," Liang Wen chirped happily, seemingly oblivious to the tension. "We’re quite good at 'stiffing' people who think they own the world. We did offer the Sun Clan something else to keep them quiet... just not the specific 'tributes' they were looking for. We like our neutrality, you see. It's much less work than picking sides."

  Liang Wen’s eyes flickered to Yuan He, noting the white-knuckled grip the boy had on his pack straps. His playful smile softened just a fraction, losing its sharp edge.

  "Relax, Yuan He," Liang Wen said, his voice easy and light. "No need to act like you're bracing for a blow on my account. I’m far too lazy to go around bullying people like Sun Ba does. That sounds like a lot of effort for very little reward."

  He leaned in slightly, his head tilting toward the mountain path. His next words were a mere breath, a jagged whisper that was almost entirely swallowed by a sudden, sharp gust of morning wind.

  "...in fact, I can't stand those bastards."

  Yuan He blinked, his ears catching only the low, bitter vibration of the tone rather than the words themselves. Before he could ask for clarification, Liang Wen was already grinning again, the dark shadow in his eyes vanishing as quickly as a flickering candle.

  He reached out and gave Yuan He’s shoulder a quick, friendly tap. "Don't worry about me, Boss. I'm just here for the scenery and the chance to complain about my feet."

  The contact, combined with Liang Wen's casual dismissal of his own status, made Yuan He’s breath hitch. He forced himself to exhale, his shoulders slowly dropping. He looked at Liang Wen’s tired, smiling face and realized the boy hadn't shown a single shred of the Sun Clan’s malice since they had met. He really needs to loosen up, he thought.

  "Right," Yuan He said, and this time, a visible wave of relief washed over his face, smoothing the tension in his brow.

  The initial shock of Liang Wen being a 'Young Master' was quickly being overwritten by a much more powerful realization: As a man who still mentally categorized "hardship" as an air-conditioning failure, the prospect of weeks spent sleeping on jagged rocks and smelling like a wet dog had been his private nightmare.

  "If your clan can provide a real roof and some hot water, then it’s more than just a logical move," Yuan He added, his voice significantly brighter. "It’s common sense. I’d prefer to arrive at the bandit nest without looking—or smelling—like I’ve been living in a cave for a month."

  A low, resonant grunt interrupted them.

  Deng Shou, who had been standing as still as a boulder, shifted his massive pack with a dry creak of leather. He looked at Yuan He’s relieved expression and then at Liang Wen’s playful grin, his heavy brows lifting in mild bewilderment.

  "It is a mission, not a vacation," Deng Shou rumbled, his voice like grinding stones. "Dirt is just part of the road. A bed won't make the bandits' necks any softer. I can sleep on a rock or a pillow; this mountain doesn't care."

  Yuan He paused, staring at the massive man for a moment.

  he thought, a dry, incredulous note ringing in his mind.

  He pushed the thought aside, keeping his expression deadpan. "A bed makes significantly less likely to snap at my teammates, Deng Shou. It’s a performance-enhancing measure. Trust me."

  "Exactly!" Liang Wen chimed in, throwing a playful wink at the giant. "A cranky leader is a dangerous leader, Big Guy. If a hot bath keeps him from punching our heads off, then we are practically doing it for the safety of the sect. It’s charity, really."

  Deng Shou stared at them for a long heartbeat, looking like he couldn't decide if they were geniuses or incredibly soft. Finally, he just shook his head, a ghost of a huff escaping his nose. "As long as we reach the town on time. Rocks or pillows, we walk the same path."

  "Well, might not care, but my lower back certainly does," Yuan He muttered, feeling his spirit lift for the first time that morning. "Gate's opening."

  Deng Shou paused, his heavy gaze lingering on Yuan He with a slow, squinted focus. He sensed a hidden layer in the comment—a trace of something that felt suspiciously like a joke at his expense—but he couldn't quite pin it down. He opened his mouth as if to defend the dignity of the earth itself, then thought better of it and simply let out a low, confused huff, deciding it was safer to stay silent.

  The massive gates groaned shut behind them, iron on stone echoing through the valley. Yuan He was already moving, his mind on the road ahead. Behind him, Liang Wen shuffled along in aggrieved silence.

  High above on the battlements of the gatehouse, Elder Chen

  Only when the dust had settled did he turn on his heel and disappear back into the darkness of the stone tower without a word.

  "Let's move," Yuan He’s voice carried faintly from below, oblivious to the eyes above. "We have a long walk ahead of us, and I’m holding you to that soap promise, Liang Wen!"

  The sun had barely cleared the horizon, but the morning air already felt stagnant. Elder Chen walked back toward the inner sanctum, his footsteps steady on the gravel path, until a shadow blocked the light under the stone bridge.

  Elder Lian stood there, blocking his way. She didn't offer a greeting. She simply held a copy of the finalized mission roster, the paper crinkling under the pressure of her grip.

  "You rearranged the contents of the board," Lian said. Her voice was flat, the kind of quiet that usually preceded a storm.

  Chen didn't stop until he was a few paces away. He tucked his hands into his sleeves. "As an Elder of the Trials, I have the prerogative to adjust the assessment. I would say the assignments are... appropriate."

  "Appropriate?" Lian stepped forward, closing the distance. "Lisong Town wasn't even on the list for this round. It was designated as a mission for the actual Inner Sect disciples last week. Why is Group 22 heading there then, Chen?"

  Chen was silent for a long moment, his eyes drifting toward the distant mountain peaks where the trio had recently vanished. "Disciple Sun Ba requested it," he said simply. "He asked specifically that Disciple Yuan He be given the Lisong Town assignment."

  Lian was flabbergasted. She stared at him, her mouth slightly agape as she processed the sheer audacity of a disciple—even a Sun Clan scion—dictating sect operations. "And you just... followed his orders? Since when does an Elder of the Azure Cloud take direction from a boy who hasn't even entered the Inner Sect?"

  "Think of it as killing two birds with one stone, Lian," Chen replied, his voice smooth and devoid of emotion. "The town has been a thorn in our side for weeks, and the Sun Clan is our primary patron. By sending them there, we keep the Sun family satisfied while simultaneously resolving a local crisis that threatens our influence. I would say it's efficient."

  Lian’s eyes narrowed, her gaze searching his for any sign of a lie. "And the groupings? Did Sun Ba dictate those as well? Did he hand-pick disciples Yuan He and Deng Shou just to ensure they never come back?"

  "No."

  The reply was instantaneous. It wasn't the deflective tone of a politician; it was a statement of absolute, cold volition. "The groupings were mine alone. Sun Ba had no hand in who stands beside Disciple Yuan He."

  Lian let out a sharp, jagged breath, her eyes searching his for some sign of a conscience. "You’re throwing away something we might not be able to replace, Chen. You saw what happened in the formation—and that duel? A boy with a Five-Element Spiritual Root dismantled a peak Qi Condensation disciple. He be a genius, walking a path of the Dao we haven't seen explored in centuries, and you’re letting him be snuffed out just because you decided to play politics! If they don't return, that blood isn't on the Sun Clan’s hands. It’s on yours."

  She brushed past him, her robes snapping in the wind as she vanished into the shadows of the administrative wing without looking back.

  Elder Chen remained standing on the path. The mountain wind whistled through the arch of the bridge, but he didn't move. He stared at the empty space where she had stood, her warning echoing in the quiet morning.

  "A genius," he murmured, his voice so low it was barely a vibration. "I know that better than anyone, Lian. And that is exactly why..."