Han Li stood by the door of the quiet courtyard, clutching a small cloth bundle in both hands.
His clothes had been freshly washed, though still patched in places. His uncle had combed his hair, given him an extra bowl of rice, and even slipped him a dried fruit sweet from the tavern's stores. But none of that made his heart beat any slower.
Just moments ago, that strange man with the sharp eyes had spoken to Uncle in hushed tones. His voice was cold and commanding, the kind of voice that didn't ask, only told.
Now, a servant had come with a simple message:
"The Protector says it's time."
Han Li followed his uncle out the back entrance of the Spring Fragrance Tavern. The sun had dipped low in the sky, painting the streets of Qingniu Town in long shadows and golden light. Most of the tavern's customers had left, the sounds of clinking cups replaced by cicadas.
Parked by the roadside was the same pitch-black carriage that had arrived earlier. The small black flag with the character "Xuan" fluttered faintly in the breeze.
Two horses pawed at the dirt restlessly, sensing the tension in the air.
Han Li's uncle gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
"Don't talk too much," he murmured, his voice unusually soft. "Just listen. You don't have to understand everything right away. When you reach the mountain, do as the elders say, and keep your head down."
Han Li nodded.
Then, to his surprise, his uncle reached into his sleeve and pulled out a tiny cloth pouch. He pressed it into Han Li's palm.
"Dried meat, some roasted peanuts, and two red sugarberries. Save them."
Han Li didn't say anything. He just clenched the pouch tightly and gave a quiet bow.
At that moment, Protector Wang stepped out from behind the carriage.
"Get in."
The man's tone was clipped, impatient. He didn't spare another glance at Fatty Han, who only gave a quick bow in return.
Han Li climbed into the back of the carriage.
It wasn't luxurious, no soft cushions or embroidered curtains. Just a wooden bench and the faint smell of dried herbs. Another boy sat on the opposite side, slightly older than Han Li, with pale skin and a nervous expression.
He didn't speak, and neither did Han Li.
The door shut behind them with a final clunk. Then the horses neighed, the wheels groaned, and the carriage began to move.
Through the small cracks in the wooden slats, Han Li caught his last glimpse of Qingniu Town as it faded behind him. The tavern, the dusty road, the setting sun. All of it shrank and vanished.
He didn't cry.
But a part of him curled inward, folding over the weight of everything he was leaving behind.
The ride grew quiet, save for the steady clatter of wheels and the creaking of old wood. Time blurred.
Han Li didn't know how long they traveled. Hours passed. Maybe more.
Eventually, the road grew steeper, rockier. The air turned cooler. Through the cracks, he glimpsed tall trees and mountain ridges. Distant peaks loomed ahead like slumbering beasts.
Suddenly, the carriage stopped.
The door opened.
"Out," came Protector Wang's voice.
The two boys stepped out onto a narrow mountain path. Night had nearly fallen. Mist clung to the trees, and the moon hung low, pale and watchful.
In front of them stood a stone staircase carved into the side of the mountain, winding upward through thick forest and ancient rock.
Protector Wang gave them a long look.
"This is where you start."
The other boy looked terrified. Han Li, quiet as always, said nothing.
The man pointed to the stone steps.
"Climb. Someone will be waiting for you at the top."
Then, without another word, he turned and vanished into the woods, his footsteps silent despite the gravel and leaves.
Han Li stared up at the long, winding staircase.
It looked endless.
Beside him, the other boy hesitated.
Han Li took the first step.
One step.
Then another.
He didn't look back.