The next day, Wuji woke up around noon. Despite his overtrained muscles having healed overnight, his body ached. Blinking away the sleep haze, he sat up and scanned the room. His gaze landed on two cracked water pots.
"Did Meiyin break them by accident?" he wondered, pushing himself up slowly. His joints protested with stiff, muted pain.
He crossed the room to the clay pots they used to store food. Lifting a lid, he found them empty.
"Did I really finish all the food last night? What did Meiyin eat this morning?" he muttered, frowning as he looked around for scraps or leftovers.
Then, he spotted a wooden plate near her bed. "That's good," he breathed, relief easing his brow.
Just then, the door creaked open.
Meiyin entered the hut, struggling under the weight of the pot of water pressed against her chest. Her green dress was soaked and muddy at the hem. Her bare legs were bruised and scraped from ankle to knee. One foot dragged slightly as she walked.
Wuji froze the moment he saw her.
The soreness in his muscles and the heaviness in his bones disappeared.
He stepped forward, his voice low and sharp.
"Who did this?"
Meiyin flinched, then quickly forced a smile that seemed too rehearsed and fragile.
"It's nothing, Brother, I slipped, it was muddy after the rain. That's all."
Wuji stepped closer, examining her injuries.
"It didn't rain last night," he said.
Her smile faded. She carefully set down the pot, as if setting it down too hard might anger him.
"I didn't want to wake you," she said quietly. "You were resting. You've been pushing yourself so hard..."
She didn't say the rest, but he heard it.
"You've suffered enough. I didn't want to add to it."
Wuji's jaw clenched, "Who?" he asked.
Meiyin hesitated, then turned away. She pulled the hem of her dress over a bruise, but it was too late; he had already seen it.
"Brother, please, just let it go."
He didn't respond; he just stared at the bruises on her legs.
Finally, she answered, still not meeting his gaze.
"It was Linglin. She pushed me. I told her I was there first, and she laughed. She said disabled siblings should wait their turn. Then her brother threw the second pot."
She bit her lip, hesitating. Then she added quietly,
"They said...they said that if I'm going to live like a cripple's sister, I should learn to crawl like one."
Wuji's fists clenched at his sides.
But Meiyin turned quickly, her voice suddenly sharper. It wasn't directed at him, but rather out of fear for him.
"Brother, no. Don't look at me like that."
She stepped closer.
"They want you angry. They want you to lose control. Then, they can accuse you of threatening the village's peace. Then they can hurt you again."
Her voice trembled slightly as she continued, "I don't care what they say about me. I don't. But if something happens to you, if they take you away, or worse..."
She forced a smile. It cracked at the edges. "Who else do I have?"
Wuji looked at her, his heart pounding.
"I'm fine," she whispered. "It hurts, but I can handle it. Just don't make things worse for yourself. Not for me."
Wuji didn't answer. He just reached for the broken pots, moved them aside, and checked the floor for splinters she might step on.
"You should rest," he said gently. "I'll buy you some herbs. We'll treat the bruises before they scar."
Meiyin hesitated by the doorframe, her small hands tightening at her sides.
"Brother, I know you're angry. But even if you go to them, they won't care. They'll just laugh or lie. Maybe it's better to let it go. Next time, I'll wait until everyone's finished at the well."
He kept his voice even and calm—too calm at that.
"All right," he said. "There's no need to worry about it now. I'm not as hotheaded as I used to be."
Then, he crouched beside the water pot and splashed his face. The cold water hit him hard, awakening the anger under his skin rather than soothing it.
His eyes were sharp now, quiet. Focused.
He put on a plain, rough black robe and tied a crimson scarf around his waist. He bound his long hair into a tight ponytail with a black ribbon.
His legs were bare, he hadn't bought shoes the last time, but he didn't mind the forming calluses. The ground didn't hurt as much as it used to.
After getting dressed, Wuji knelt by the corner of his bed and dug into the packed earth beneath the straw mat. His fingers touched the leather pouch buried there. He pulled it out, opened it, and counted quickly.
"Seventy gold coins left." He paused, then separated five gold coins.
"Sixty-five now. It won't last us long."
He hesitated, then took out ten more coins.
"This should be enough to start the plan," he thought as he cinched the pouch closed and buried it again.
He rose and crossed to where he kept the weapons he'd bought. He took two knives and slipped them into the folds of his robe where they were hidden but easy to draw.
"I won't let anyone catch me off guard again," he murmured, his eyes flicking to Meiyin, who was bandaging her bruises.
"With how much energy this trait burns, I'm afraid I'll starve her if I'm not careful. I'll buy her food separately."
He stepped outside, feeling the knives' coldness against his ribs and the weight of what he had to do settling over his shoulders like a cloak.
As Wuji approached the village market, he slowed down and began to limp.
His injury had mostly healed, but he couldn't let anyone know that yet, especially not the village chief and Chen Yi.
He limped straight to the herb shop. The scent of dried roots, bitter stems, and crushed petals hung heavily in the air. It was a narrow, cluttered, dim space lined wall to wall with jars and bundles.
Behind the counter sat a young woman who looked about twenty-three. Her fingers were smudged with ink, and her head was bowed over a ledger.
She looked up just long enough to acknowledge him. Then she went back to her writing as if he didn't exist.
Wuji didn't let it bother him. He wandered the shop, taking in the stock: brittle mushrooms strung like ornaments; bundles of bloodleaf wrapped in twine; and cracked jars with handwritten tags.
After a few minutes, he stepped up to the counter.
"What herbs are good for bruises and recovery after martial training?" he asked.
Without looking up, she replied flatly, "Do we look like a martial arts school? We sell herbs. We don't teach."
Her foolish answer caught him off guard.
"I expected to be treated badly, but I didn't think she'd actually be this stupid. She can't even separate business from petty emotion."
His jaw clenched. The pride in his throat begged him to fire back. But then he thought of Meiyin, her bruised legs, and her trying to smile through the pain.
"Fine. You win this one. I can't afford to lose a pride fight when she needs healing."
He exhaled steadily and coldly through his nose.
"If this woman wants to sneer at me while taking my money, fine. I'll let her. But I'll remember her face."
"You are YinLi, aren't you?" she said.
Wuji didn't answer.
She leaned forward and narrowed her eyes. "I heard you made a scene in the chief's hut. You accused Chen Yi of theft. Then you had your ribs cracked like dry wood." She gestured at the shelves. "Why should I help someone who brings trouble to their own village?"
"So, you're refusing to sell to me because I didn't kneel before the golden child?" Wuji said.
"I didn't say that," she replied, her tone frosty. "I said I won't help. You can buy. But don't ask for advice as if we're friends. If you want mercy, go beg the chief for it."
Wuji smiled coldly. "I didn't come here for friendship."
"Good. This shop doesn't trade in fantasy," she said, returning to her books. "Thirty silver for the bruise balm. Twenty silver for the training tonics. Pay or go."
Wuji clenched his jaw. Although he could afford it, he didn't want to pay any more than necessary, even if it meant hurting his pride.
He had put his pride aside, but he could sense that she would raise the price if he paid with fifty silver coins.
"Fine. Keep your rot and your attitude," he said, turning away. "I'll buy from the town. I'd rather walk half a day than give coin to a coward in her father's shop."
Her voice followed him out, a thorn in his heel.
"Then limp faster, cripple. The towns gate closes at dusk."
"Wait—don't go!" a second woman called, hurrying from the back room. "She was just teasing—"
But Wuji didn't even look back. His silhouette vanished into the thinning crowd.
The first woman snorted. "What a bastard."
The second woman spun toward her, fuming. "Are you stupid or cursed? That was the boy the chief paid off. He's walking around with a hundred gold coins and no idea what's real and what's not."
She slapped the counter. "You could've sold him dried weeds for triple the price! He doesn't even know how to make tea from leaves!"
The first woman crossed her arms. "And when the chief finds out that we're helping the village pariah, what then? Do you think I want to be woken up in the middle of the night?"
The second woman stared at her. "So you'd rather throw away silver than risk the chief's disapproval?"
"I'd rather stay alive," she said. "Silver's no good if your tongue's in a jar."
The gambler stood in front of the shop, pretending to stretch. But his hungry eyes clearly followed Wuji.
Wuji stared back, then turned and limped toward the village exit.
He touched the spot where his knives were hidden, then followed the path that the villagers took to collect firewood in the town. The path was deserted, and the sun was high and relentless.
Ten minutes later, Wuji veered off the path and slipped into the underbrush. He crouched low among the leaves and waited.
A few minutes passed and he heard rustling.
He saw three figures creeping through the thicket. The gambler was indeed coming after his gold, and he had brought two others with him. Their walk, their postures looked familiar, they were martial artists.
They moved with feigned casualness, their faces half-concealed by sheets. However, their eyes roved too sharply and too often.
Wuji narrowed his gaze. "Damn it! He brought backup, and worse yet, they are martial artists. Killing this thorn just got a lot more complicated."
He stood still, breathing shallowly, as the trio pushed through the brush, snapping twigs and muttering curses.
"Where the hell did he go?" one of the men muttered.
"I was watching him the whole time," the gambler snapped. "He came down this path. I'm sure of it. I thought he was heading for town, but somehow I lost him."
The second man gave a dry laugh. "You let him slip past you? Maybe he saw you tailing him and doubled back."
"I gave him space so he wouldn't get suspicious," the gambler shot back defensively. "He was limping, remember? I figured he'd be slow. I didn't think he'd vanish like smoke!"
Their argument trailed off as they stumbled toward the town gate, still bickering.
Two guards stood at the gate, checking travelers and merchants. Wuji followed quietly from the trees, his eyes fixed on the backs of the three men like a wolf stalking prey.
"I have to take care of this guy before he does something I won't be able to forgive myself for," Wuji thought as he walked to the back of a merchant group.
His gaze was fixed on the gambler and his two fellows ahead of him.
At the front, the gambler stepped forward with forced confidence.
One of the guards squinted, then grinned. "Well, well. If it isn't Rat-skin Liu. I thought the rats in your village had finally chewed your face off."
A few nearby merchants chuckled.
Liu clenched his fists but smiled weakly. "Still as funny as ever, Wu Dong."
The second guard yawned. "Knock it off, Dong. I don't want those village elders complaining again about how we 'disrespected their villagers.'"
"Fine. Let the weasel in." Wu Dong waved. "Go on, before your bruised ego starts whining too."
But Liu didn't move. He leaned in. "Hey, did a young guy pass through earlier? He was wearing a black robe and was about this tall. He walks with a limp. Right leg."
The second guard raised an eyebrow. "You just described half the laborers in town. Be more specific."
Liu added quickly, "No, this one's got a sharp face and long hair but he tied them. He keeps to himself. I was tailing him, but—"
"No one like that's passed," the guard said flatly.
The three men exchanged glances.
"Do you think he was faking the limp?" one of Liu's companions asked.
"No chance," Liu replied. "Chen Yi broke that leg clean. Not even a first rate martial artist could walk normally within a week."
"Unless..." The third man narrowed his eyes. "He guessed we'd say he was limping, so he forced himself to look fine. Clever bastard."
Liu frowned. "Let's go. We'll sweep the streets. He wouldn't leave town without supplies."
They disappeared into the crowd.
A few moments later, Wuji stepped up to the gate.
The guards looked at him with little interest.
"What's your name? Is this your first time in town? State your business and pay three coppers."
"Yin Li," Wuji replied. "I'm not a first-timer. I work at the Eastern Escort Agency."
"Doing what?" Wu Dong asked.
Wuji tilted his head. "Why the interrogation? Are you looking to hire me?"
The second guard chuckled. "Just answer."
"Wagon repair. Sometimes I shovel horse shit when they forget to pay the stable boy."
Wu Dong snorted. "You had the 'mysterious wanderer' look for half a second. You should've kept your mouth shut."
He opened a book and began to flip through its pages. When he saw the name Yin Li, he read it closely.
After confirming that Wuji's words matched those in the book, he said, "Go on, mighty Dung Craftsman."
Wuji smiled faintly and walked through, but his smile disappeared replaced by a cold expression as soon as he entered the town.