Chapter 17
The mud felt different under my boots.
Not because the fields had changed—but because I had.
A week ago, walking between the rows of rice stalks had been unfamiliar and awkward. Now it felt routine. Almost calming. Even the soreness in my body was manageable, fading from agony into a dull reminder that I was still healing.
I drove the blunt end of the hoe into the earth and exhaled. A warm breeze rustled the paddies around me, carrying the scent of wet soil and the promise of rain.
Wei Lin stood a few rows down, sleeves rolled up, his straw hat tilted back as he poured a small sack of grain into a woven container.
He looked up when he noticed me watching. “Still standing, I see.”
“Mostly,” I muttered, shifting my weight. “Turns out not dying comes with its own complications.”
He chuckled and walked over, wiping his hands on a rag tucked into his belt. From his sleeve, he pulled out a small bundle wrapped in cloth and held it out to me.
“Here,” he said. “Your share. For the beast. The claws sold well. Hide too.”
I looked at the bundle, then at him. “Keep it.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” I nodded toward the house. “Put it toward medicine. Make sure your ma gets better. I have no use for it.”
He was quiet for a moment, then tucked the cloth back into his sleeve and gave me a crooked smile. “You’re going to make it really hard for me to act humble if you keep saying things like that.”
I snorted. “Guess you’ll have to find a new personality.”
He gave a mock sigh. “Tragic.”
We worked in silence for a while. The sun was high, but not harsh, and the wind off the paddies kept things from turning sticky. I lost myself in the rhythm of it—hoe, pull, clear, step—until Wei Lin broke the quiet again.
“Next time you go into the forest,” he said casually, “I want to come with you.”
I glanced over at him. “What makes you think I’ll go again?”
He met my eyes, serious now. “I saw it in your face. The day you came back bleeding half to death. You looked like someone who’d already made up his mind.”
I didn’t say anything at first.
Because he was right.
“That money for the beast was worth more than a week’s worth of grain. If I can help you in anyway, I will.”
I nodded at that. “Understood.”
A few days later, we made the trip into town.
Wei Lin walked with a steadier pace than usual. He didn’t limp as much when he was focused. The coins from the beast sat snug in a pouch on his belt, and he’d already made a list in his head of what needed buying before we even left the farm.
“Medicine first,” he said as we crossed the wooden footbridge leading into the village. “If I don’t show up to Madam Shen with coin, she’ll think I’m avoiding my debts.”
“You were,” I said.
He grinned. “Which is why I need to correct the record before she curses me with bad crops.”
The village was as I remembered—quiet and small. Kids darted through alleyways, their laughter trailing behind them like wind chimes, while traders called out prices for dried herbs and salted fish. It all felt far removed from city life I was used to, with their billboards and flashing lights.
We stopped at the herbalist first. Wei Lin spoke with the old woman while I leaned against the post outside, still a bit stiff but on my feet. He didn’t haggle. Just passed her the pouch, took the bundle she handed back, and bowed low with both hands.
Next came something less routine.
The blacksmith’s stall was more a lean-to than a shop, with racks of tools and chipped weapons hung from nails. A forge glowed low in the back, barely tended.
Wei Lin ran his hand along the nearest blade. “I was thinking,” he said without looking at me, “we could both use something better than farm tools.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Do we have enough coin?”
He gave a short laugh. “Not really. But I think it will be a good investment.”
After looking through the tools and with the help of the smith— a large middle age man with a greying beard and callused hands that spoke of years worth of labour, we both settled on sabres. Simple ones. Straight-edged, a little rust around the hilt but balanced well enough.
As we walked back through the market with the wrapped blades attached to our sides, Wei Lin fell quiet.
Then he said, “I want to grow stronger too.”
I glanced at him.
He didn’t elaborate right away. Just kept his eyes on the road ahead, watching the wind roll over the paddies outside the village.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“It’s not just for Ma,” he added. “Though she’s the biggest reason. It’s just… this world doesn’t wait for us to be ready. I’m tired of being the one hoping someone else shows up when things go wrong. I saw your reaction to that cultivator. I used to be like that too, when I was younger. I want.. no I need to get back to being the person I once was.”
I nodded slowly and really looked at Wei Lin. When I first met him, I didn’t really think much but now, looking at him, I could see the hard edge he had. Tending to the farm while looking after his mother. I could respect that. And if he wanted strength, I would try my best to help. It seemed we had a similar goal.
“I get that.”
He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Figured you would.”
The days passed quickly after that.
We worked the fields. Trained with the blades in the evenings, I showed Wei Lin everything I knew, limited as it was, I did have to compete the hunters course and part of that was being competent with a weapon. My was the dagger but a sabre was only slightly larger and a lot of my knowledge transferred. I healed, little by little. By the end of the week, the limp in my stride had faded, and the fire in my ribs had cooled into something manageable.
That’s when we packed our things and headed out—two blades, a few strips of dried meat, and the quiet understanding that this time, neither of us was going alone.
The river rushed beside us, loud and cold, carving its way through the valley like it had been doing that for a thousand years.
It looked familiar.
I didn’t say it out loud, but I was pretty sure this was the same stretch of water I’d first stumbled along when I woke up in this world, more confused than I’d ever been in my life. Back then, I hadn’t noticed the shape of the trees, or the slope of the banks, or the way the mist clung to the surface like it didn’t want to let go.
Now, I noticed everything.
Wei Lin walked a few paces ahead, blade strapped to his side, sleeves rolled up past his elbows. He moved with purpose, the way someone does when they know the land and the signs it leaves behind. Occasionally he stopped to crouch near the bank or examine a line of crushed grass with narrowed eyes.
Apparently, he knew where the beasts liked to roam.
“The ridge,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder. “That one I told you about—where the wind moves funny. It’s up ahead, just upriver.”
I nodded, keeping pace.
We followed the water for another half hour before the trees began to thin. The ground sloped harder, steeper, until we emerged at the edge of the world.
A sheer cliff stretched out before us, the drop so sudden and clean it felt like the earth had been sliced in half. Below, the river wound like a silver thread through a deep-cut gorge. Forests rolled out in every direction endlessly. Mist curled along the treetops far below, and mountains stood like silent guardians on the horizon.
I stepped closer, just enough to feel the pull of the drop in my gut. The wind really did shift here. It tugged at my clothes, whispering along the edge of the cliff.
Wei Lin stood beside me, quiet for once.
It wasn’t awe in his expression. More like respect.
“This place,” he said, voice soft, “is amazing isn’t it. Ma used to say, all this used to be flat. Until the Great War, when a cultivator sliced the earth and remade it.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
So I just looked out across the mist and trees and mountains and thought, This world is so much bigger than I thought.
A branch cracked somewhere behind us—sharp and deliberate. I pulled my gaze away from the view.
I shifted my stance, eyes scanning the brush.
Nothing moved.
Then I heard it.
A low growl.
It came from the slope behind us, where the ridge curved upward and the mist thickened. Something stepped out of the trees. Heavy. Four-legged. But wrong in a way I couldn’t place at first.
The creature was the size of a large boar, but covered in dark, thorny bristles that jutted out from its back like a crown. Its face was narrow, almost skeletal, with two small tusks curling forward from its jaw and milky eyes that flicked between the two of us. Every breath it took came out in sharp, wheezing huffs.
“What the hell is that?” I muttered.
Wei Lin answered without looking away. “Hedgebeast. Locals call them needlebacks.”
“Charming.”
It pawed at the dirt, then lunged.
Wei Lin moved to meet it. His sabre came free in a smooth arc—but the beast was quicker. His first swing missed, grazing the creature’s flank as it barreled past. I stepped in, slashing low. The blade caught its shoulder, but not deep enough.
The bristles snapped upright, rattling like dry reeds in the wind.
“Don’t let it turn!” Wei Lin called. “It’ll fire those things!”
“Of course it will.”
I shifted to the side as the beast twisted toward him. He struck again, this time catching it across the haunches, but the blow glanced off the dense hide. Still, it forced the creature to pivot back toward me.
The sabre was heavier than the dagger I was used to—slower in my hands, less forgiving. But I adjusted.
As it lunged, I ducked under a wide swipe of claws and drove my blade in just above the ribs. It shrieked and bucked, but I ripped the sabre free before it could throw its weight into me.
Wei Lin moved in with a tighter swing, aiming for the hind legs. The blade met resistance, but didn’t stick. He shifted quickly, keeping his footing as the beast reared up.
The bristles quivered—then launched.
A spray of spines hissed through the air. I threw myself aside, one grazing my shoulder. Wei Lin dropped low, breath catching in his throat.
It came again—faster this time.
We split. Wei Lin drew its attention with quick footwork and short, defensive strikes. I circled behind, counting the steps.
Then I moved.
My sabre came down hard, slicing through the base of its neck. The blade lodged deep between its ridged spine and furred bristles.
The beast buckled, legs trembling.
Wei Lin stepped in from the side, slamming his blade through its exposed neck. The beast crumpled, wheezing once before falling still.
We stood over the corpse, catching our breath.
Wei Lin exhaled slowly, eyes on the fallen creature. “That wasn’t what I pictured when I said I wanted to hunt.”
I glanced at him. His grip was steady. His blade dripped with blood.
“You did fine,” I said. “Next one might not be as polite.”
He offered a tired grin. “Then let’s make sure we’re ready.”
I looked down at the hedgebeast. Its bristles still rattled faintly.
Another fight.
Another step.
And this time, we’d both walked away whole.
The beast’s corpse twitched once more, then stilled completely.
As the tension ebbed from my muscles, I felt it—that familiar tingle brushing against my skin, like warm ash drifting on a breeze.
Qi.
It shimmered faintly above the hedgebeast, invisible to the world, but unmistakable to me now. A ripple of gold, slow and steady, bleeding off the corpse like steam.
I let it come.
The energy sank into me with the same smooth pull as before.
Then silence. I waited but nothing came.
No chime. No message. No shift in awareness.
Frowning, I closed my eyes and reached for that familiar thread again, the spark inside me where the system lived.
Status
Name: Ethan Ward
Cultivation: Mortal – 2/10
Titles:
? Diligence’s Chosen
? Otherworlder
Skills:
? Last Stand
Stats:
Strength: 10
Agility: 10
Constitution: 15
Spirit: 13
Still the same.
I let the screen dissolve and nodded to myself, slow and thoughtful.
It had been too easy.
That had to be it. The beast hadn’t pushed me. I wasn’t bleeding, wasn’t desperate. The fight had been clean. Almost controlled.
I glanced over at Wei Lin, who stood with his hands on his knees, breathing hard but grinning wide.
“Think that was it?” he asked. “Or should we start charging the ridge?”
I gave a dry huff of amusement.
He straightened and looked around. “We should harvest the parts before the scavengers catch wind.”
I gave a slow nod, but my thoughts were still circling.
This was going to need more testing.