Shen awoke with a dull ache spreading through his ribs, every breath a reminder of wounds still healing. His stomach twisted in hunger, but it was the lingering pull of a strange dream that held his attention. In that dream—half-fevered, half-real—he'd felt the presence of something vast and silent. No words had been spoken, but meaning had been made clear: save a dying spirit beast, and a reward would be granted.
The image of a fragile creature tangled in thorns had imprinted itself into his soul.
Now, morning light seeped through the twisted branches near the edge of his new land. Shen sat up on cracked, weed-infested soil. The place was dry, brittle, and heavy with decay.
Mudvale.
A parcel of cursed earth on the edge of Ashenreach, purchased for nearly nothing from the magistrate of Willowreach. Shen had taken the deal while fleeing from the sect on the other continent. He hadn't passed any village. He'd gone directly to his land under cover of night. Hungry, tired, and nursing injuries from his escape, he had collapsed and slept.
Last night's dream… had not been a dream.
His qi remained unstable. His bones ached. But hunger forced him up and toward the bordering forest. He needed food. Foraging, even in this brittle thicket, was the only choice.
He found mushrooms clinging to the roots of a fallen log. Not ideal, but not poisonous. He tucked them away in a ragged cloth. Just as he turned to head back, a faint sound reached him—an odd rustling.
He paused. Not wind. Something alive.
Cautiously, he pushed through a low bush. What he saw tightened his throat.
A small fox, silvery-white and shimmering faintly, was tangled deep in a thicket of bloodthorn vines. Only one tail. Its fur was matted with blood. The brambles had pierced deep into the creature's sides.
It was the same fox from his dream.
The creature snarled when it saw him, baring fangs, but its strength was gone. Its single tail twitched and fell limp.
Shen moved slowly, whispering, "I'm not here to hurt you."
He placed his water skin nearby, along with the last strip of dried meat he'd been saving. The fox watched but didn't move.
Shen drew a dull dagger—his only real tool. His hand trembled. He was starving, his strength nearly spent, and qi refused to flow properly. Every movement was effort.
He began cutting.
Thorn by thorn. Vine by vine. Blood from his fingers mixed with the fox's as he worked. The vines were stubborn, barbed and tough, resisting even the worn blade. More than once, he had to use his bare hands, snapping small twigs and pulling apart the brambles physically.
Pain bloomed across his palms. Sweat stung his eyes. His vision swam.
But still, he cut.
Minutes dragged like hours. The fox whimpered but never struck out. It simply watched him.
At last, the final thorn was removed. The fox slumped to the ground. It didn't run.
Shen fell back on his haunches, panting. He held out the meat again. This time, the fox sniffed, then took it in trembling jaws.
"Well," Shen said between gasps, "you're more stubborn than I am. That's saying something."
The fox gave a soft, offended snort.
They returned to the edge of Mudvale under the grey sky.
Shen had no shelter, only a patch of cleared dirt near the bone-dry field. He gathered sticks with shaking hands, built a small fire, and boiled a pot of water.
He added the mushrooms, watching them bubble. The fox curled up beside the warmth, clearly exhausted. Its single tail flicked weakly.
The soup was thin, but warm. Shen drank it slowly, then leaned against a tree. He was asleep before the bowl left his hands.
He dreamed again.
Not a place, not a voice—just sensation. A deep breath from the land. A stillness. And then:
[You have completed a task: "Rescue the Spirit in the Thorns"] Reward Granted: [Seed of Possibility]
His body remained asleep, but something warm and weighty nestled into his hand in that dream.
When Shen opened his eyes the next morning, birds were singing. Mist clung to the grass. The fox was still beside him, one tail curled protectively around itself.
In Shen's hand was a seed. Pale green. Warm to the touch.
He planted it at the edge of his barren field. The soil, usually stubborn, accepted the seed easily.
The fox padded beside him, watching. Its single tail brushed his arm.
Shen sighed. "No idea what that was… but I think we just planted something important."
He sat beside the fox. For the first time since leaving the sect, a faint sense of peace settled in his chest.
End of Chapter