Wild World
Merin, he drags himself out of the wilderness, clothes torn, blood dried along his arms.
Beside him, his fellow disciples stagger, each carrying cuts and bruises from battles barely survived.
Their horses are missing, probably in the belly of the demon wolf pack that attacked them last night.
The trees thin, the ground levels, and before them rises a small stone front half-buried in moss.
Its weathered surface carries four carved characters marking the border of the Tang State.
Merin feels his chest loosen for the first time in days.
His disciples stop, staring at the stone, and a shared sigh escapes them all.
They have crossed the line of death into the land of the living.
An hour later, they reach the gates of Tang City, dust trailing their steps.
The guards block the path, spears crossed, eyes narrowing.
"From where?" one demands.
Yu Lei answers flatly, "Lanshan Sect."
Faces around them harden, the soldiers' expressions turning like stone.
A guard steps forward, voice colder, "Why have you come?"
Yu Lei bows slightly, replying, "Only to rest a few days—it lies on our path."
The silence stretches, then the guards slowly lower their spears.
The guards were wary of them because the relationship between their sect and the city is at its worst stage.
They walk straight to the finest inn Tang City offers, its carved beams and lantern light a contrast to their travel-worn bodies.
Six rooms are taken without question, their presence buying both space and silence.
Merin enters his chamber alone, closing the door with a steady breath.
He sits cross-legged, calming his mind as the room's noise fades away.
His body carries the glow of the Jade Spiritual Body Technique, its first stage—Jade Skin—already complete.
Now he pushes deeper into the second stage—Jade Muscle.
Each strand of muscle must drink in jade Qi, fibre by fibre, refined with care.
A single slip will crystallise the flesh into jade, hard and unyielding.
Merin stops for a moment, takes out and places a small jade bottle beside him.
From it, he takes a single white pill, smooth and bitter with the scent of herbs.
The pill melts against his tongue, flooding his body with a clean surge of medicinal Qi.
It burns through his meridians, forcing every fibre of his muscles to tremble awake.
He guides the flow carefully, weaving jade Qi into the medicinal stream until it fuses with his flesh.
Each thread of muscle twists, hardens, and softens again as if testing its own limit.
The danger is sharp—too much Qi in one spot and the muscle will crystallise, turning him into stone.
A bead of sweat runs down his back as the first fibres shimmer faintly with jade light.
The pain is sharp and cold, like needles piercing into his marrow.
Merin grits his teeth, forcing his breathing into rhythm, refusing to let the trembling break his control.
Slowly, the process steadies, the white pill's power thinning as his body swallows it whole.
By the time his muscles stop quivering, he knows the step has left its mark.
His body feels heavier, stronger, but also raw—as though every motion could either unleash power or shatter him.
He knows it can take weeks for the stone to recede, the pain relentless, every movement a torment.
Yet he does not waver, the risk as much a part of cultivation as the reward.
"Enter," one says, his tone edged with warning, "but know we'll be watching you."
Merin's eyes snap open as voices rise from the inn's lobby.
Among them, he recognises Yu Lie's tone, sharp and defensive.
With a scowl, he pulls his jade Qi back, forcing his trembling muscles into stillness.
The lingering heat of the pill makes every movement feel heavy as he pushes to his feet.
Annoyance flashes across his face—cultivation time stolen again.
He strides from his room, footsteps echoing down the wooden corridor.
The moment he enters the lobby, the air is tense, filled with hostile stares.
His fellow disciples stand in a half-circle, battered yet unyielding.
Opposite them, a group of young men in blue-green robes grip the hilts of thin, curved swords.
The emblems stitched on their chests mark them clearly—disciples of the Water Sword Sect.
The Water Sword Sect disciples sneer and demand that Merin's group leave the inn at once.
The innkeeper steps forward nervously, bowing to the blue-green robes.
He promises to return double the coin Merin's group paid, his voice trembling as he explains the city lord's daughter belongs to the Water Sword Sect.
Yu Lei's jaw tightens, his hand drifting toward his sword hilt.
"This isn't about coin," he says coldly, "this is about honour."
One of the Water Sword Sect disciples smirks, his eyes sharp like drawn steel.
"Then let's settle it in the arena."
A disciple beside Merin, Yu Han, steps forward, his voice like a whip.
"Are we afraid of you? Fine, the arena it is."
The air thickens, but Merin raises his voice, calm and firm.
"We already booked the rooms first. If we win, we gain nothing. So what are you putting forward as stake?"
His words ripple through the group like cold water cutting fire.
Yu Lei and the other four Lanshan disciples nod, echoing his demand.
The Water Sword Sect disciples exchange glances, their arrogance faltering for the first time.
And silence holds the lobby, waiting for someone to break it.
A woman enters, her robe the same blue silk as the Water Sword Sect disciples.
The innkeeper bows low and calls her young miss.
Her gaze sweeps the room like a blade, and she says, "If you win—which will never happen—we will give you this."
A blue pearl shines in her hand, cold light flooding the hall.
Merin's eyes narrow.
Water Spirit Pearl.
"Deal," he says aloud.
Shock flashes across the faces of her fellow disciples.
"Junior sister!" one hisses, "that pearl was gifted to you by the sect master herself—if you lose it, her wrath will fall on you."
The woman's lips curve into a smile sharp enough to wound.
"Senior brothers, are you all going to lose?"
Their faces twist, pride stung, and together they bark, "No!"
Her eyes gleam with victory already claimed.
"Then we meet in the arena, one hour from now."
Merin and Yu Lei, and the others nod once, their silence heavy, while the Water Sword Sect group storms out with the woman at their lead.
As the door closes, Merin speaks, voice low but firm.
"Senior brothers, I want the Water Spirit Pearl."
His hand tightens into a fist.
"So I will fight all of them."
The arena of Tang City is an open stone circle, carved into the earth, its edges lined with sharpened wooden stakes.
News spreads like wildfire.
By the time Merin and his brothers arrive, the stands are filled with townsfolk, guards, and cultivators eager for blood.
The Water Sword Sect disciples stand proudly on the other side, the young woman at their centre, the Water Spirit Pearl gleaming in her hand like a promise.
The city lord's daughter sits above the crowd, her eyes cold, her posture regal, watching as though she already knows the outcome.
Yu Lei leans close to Merin, voice low.
"Junior brother, are you truly going to face them all alone?"
Merin's gaze stays fixed on the pearl.
"Yes."
The Lanshan Sect disciples exchange uneasy looks but say nothing more.
The announcer, a Tang City guard, steps forward and shouts, "By the honour of both sects, the wager is set! If the Lanshan Sect wins, they will claim the Water Spirit Pearl. If they lose, they leave the Golden Goose Inn at once!"
The crowd roars, voices crashing together, chanting the Water Sword Sect's name.
Before Merin can step into the ring, Wang Zishan, the eldest of their group, strides forward.
"Brother," Merin says.
Wang Zishan looks back, steady and calm.
"Don't worry, junior brother. Senior brother will win you the Water Spirit Pearl."
Beside Merin, Yu Han slaps his shoulder with a grin.
"Junior, this isn't just your fight—it's the honour of the sect. Don't think too much."
Merin nods, silent, and watches.
Wang Zishan clashes first, his blade fierce, and he wins.
The crowd boos.
Another Water Sword disciple steps in, and Wang Zishan falls.
Yu Lei enters—defeated.
Then Wang Zhen steps in, strikes hard, and claims victory, only to be crushed by the next opponent.
Yu Han fights; his sword work is brilliant, but the match ends in a draw.
Last comes Yu Qinshan—defeated.
One by one, the Lanshan disciples fall, until only Merin remains.
Across from him, three Water Sword disciples still stand, one already waiting in the ring.
The announcer's voice cuts through the air.
"For the Lanshan Sect to claim victory, Yu Feng must win three consecutive battles! For the Water Sword Sect, they need only defeat Yu Feng!"
The crowd erupts, their voices pounding like drums, all shouting for Water Sword Sect.
Merin steps into the ring.