The forest seemed to close in around Lian Yue as he stepped beyond the sect's gates. The mist that hovered over Yīnméng Forest thickened, swallowing the sunlight and twisting familiar paths into a maze of shadows. The forest had always been beautiful in its own strange way, but now, with the weight of exile pressing on him, it felt suffocating—like the very world had turned against him.
His legs ached, his stomach growled, and yet every instinct screamed at him to keep moving. Every step he took was a reminder of the elders' words, the scornful eyes of his peers, and the unyielding perfection of his twin sister, Lian Rong. Pride, shame, fear—they tangled within him like a storm.
He stumbled over a gnarled root, nearly losing his balance. Moonfang, now perched silently on his shoulder, pressed a comforting weight against him. The creature's presence was reassuring, but also a reminder: he could not rely on anyone else. Survival would depend entirely on his own wits and Shadow Qi.
"I can do this," he muttered, voice barely audible over the whispers of the forest. "I have to."
The first test came almost immediately. From the dense underbrush, a faint rustling grew louder, deliberate and calculated. Lian Yue froze, every sense straining. Moonfang's tail twitched nervously, ears perked. Two glowing orbs appeared in the mist—small, human-shaped, yet their energy reeked of corruption. Bandits.
Lian Yue's heart pounded, but he had little time to panic. The Shadow Lotus Dagger at his waist felt reassuring against his hip, but he knew it alone would not be enough. He needed strategy, cunning, and a little luck.
One of the bandits stepped forward, grinning. "You there, little boy," he called. "Lost, are we? Or running from your masters? Hand over your possessions, and maybe we'll let you go."
Lian Yue's stomach twisted. He had nothing to give. His heart raced as he weighed his options. Fight or flight? The Shadow Qi within him pulsed, shadows quivering along the forest floor, ready to obey.
"Leave now," he said, voice steadier than he felt. "Or you'll regret it."
The bandits laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed unnaturally through the mist. "I like this one," the tallest said. "Spirited, even when he's defenseless. Let's see how long that lasts."
Instinct took over. Lian Yue's Shadow Qi flared, tendrils snaking across the forest floor. He created a rough clone of himself—unfinished, jagged, unstable—but it drew the first bandit's attention. The clone's sudden appearance startled the man long enough for Lian Yue to slip behind a tree, dagger raised.
The battle was chaotic. The forest itself became a weapon, with Lian Yue moving through the shadows, vanishing and reappearing in a blur. Moonfang leapt and darted like a shadow brought to life, teeth flashing, claws slashing. Each bandit struck, missed, and stumbled against the unpredictable terrain, giving Lian Yue the edge he barely knew he had.
By the time the last bandit scrambled away into the mist, Lian Yue was exhausted, bleeding from shallow cuts, and shaking from adrenaline. He sank to his knees, the forest pressing around him like a living, breathing entity.
"You… survived," Moonfang purred softly, brushing against his arm.
Lian Yue allowed himself a small, bitter smile. "Barely."
Night began to fall, and the fog thickened. Every shadow seemed alive, twisting with secrets, whispering of dangers and wonders alike. Hunger gnawed at him, but more pressing was the realization that he had nowhere to go. The sect was gone behind him, and beyond that, the forest was vast and unknown.
Then he saw it: a faint glimmer in the moonlight. A shallow pool of water reflecting silver and green, perfectly still. A Spirit Pool.
Kneeling beside it, Lian Yue gazed into its depths, fatigue and fear reflected back at him. The pool shimmered strangely, and he thought he saw movement beneath the surface. Moonfang growled low, ears pinned, tail lashing with anticipation.
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the mist at the pool's edge. Sleek, silent, and graceful, it was a beast unlike any he had seen—fur of silver and black, eyes reflecting the moonlight like molten gold. It crouched, watching him with quiet intelligence.
A Spirit Beast.
Lian Yue's heart skipped a beat. These creatures were rare, powerful, and capable of forming bonds that lasted a lifetime. He took a cautious step forward, letting his Shadow Qi ripple gently over his arm. The creature tilted its head, assessing, calculating. Then, in one fluid motion, it leapt forward—not to attack, but to press against his chest, acknowledging him.
"Moonfang," Lian Yue whispered instinctively, the name settling in his mind as if it had always belonged there. The bond was fragile, but present, and it filled him with a warmth he hadn't felt since leaving the sect.
His moment of solace shattered almost instantly. Movement in the fog, deliberate and sinister—figures clad in dark robes, faces obscured. The Forsaken Covenant. Lian Yue froze. He had faced nothing like them before; their presence radiated malice and corruption, even from this distance.
The lead figure stepped forward, voice low and venomous. "A fledgling of the Shadow Lotus… wandering alone. How convenient."
Moonfang crouched, growling, shadow tendrils lashing around Lian Yue like protective serpents. He gritted his teeth, heart racing, and reached for the Shadow Lotus Dagger.
This was it—his first real test. Alone, with Moonfang at his side, facing enemies far stronger and more cunning than bandits. Fear surged, but it was tempered by something else: resolve.
The first strike came like a storm. Shadows flared, tendrils whipping toward the scouts, Moonfang lunging with teeth bared. Lian Yue moved instinctively, ducking under a swing, countering with his dagger, and launching rough shadow clones to distract. Every movement was chaotic, but survival honed precision sharper than any training in the sect ever could.
By the end, the scouts had retreated, leaving only whispers of the Forsaken Covenant's greater plans behind. Lian Yue was bruised, bleeding, but alive. Moonfang curled at his side, tail wrapped protectively around him.
He sank to the ground, gazing up at the canopy above. Exiled. Alone. Weak. But alive.
For the first time, exile did not feel like punishment—it felt like a beginning.
"I'll grow stronger," he whispered, voice hoarse but filled with determination. "I'll survive. I'll rise. And I'll make them all remember my name."
The forest was silent once more, but in the shifting shadows, Lian Yue felt the promise of trials yet to come—and the first sparks of the path that would carry him from a boy scorned to a force the world could not ignore.