The morning sun, like the gentle fingers of creation, pierced through the dense canopy of leaves, scattering shimmering gold coins upon the damp, red earth. The Vạn Bảo Caravan had been traveling for over ten days, finally leaving the arid lands of the Lạc Diệp mine region and entering the fertile plains of Thanh Châu. The air no longer carried the acrid smell of iron ore; instead, it was filled with the sweet scent of young rice and fresh earth—a familiar, life-affirming aroma that eased Trần Kiên's heart.
He sat atop a supply wagon, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings. On either side of the road, lush green rice paddies stretched to the horizon like a vast jade carpet. Farmers in simple brown tunics and conical hats worked diligently, planting young rice shoots. In the distance, groves of bamboo rustled in the wind, encircling small, peaceful hamlets. This was a living landscape painting, a scene of tranquility he had never witnessed in the dust and stone of Falling Leaf Town.
Since his battle with the Black Wind Wolves, Trần Kiên's standing in the caravan had changed completely. The story of the skinny boy who had taken down the infamous demonic beast with his bare hands had spread like wildfire. He was now personally invited by Vạn Tam Thông to ride in the most spacious carriage, sitting directly across from the merchant leader. The other guards, who had once looked at him with disdain, now regarded him with a mixture of awe and respect. But Trần Kiên did not let it go to his head. He remained quiet and reserved, spending most of his time observing and thinking.
He watched how the guards arranged their formations, how they navigated by the sun, how they identified the tracks of demonic beasts. His innate intelligence, honed by years of finding fissures in solid rock, allowed him to learn with astonishing speed. He noticed that their defensive formations, while solid against beasts, were too rigid. Against a cunning enemy who used strategy, he feared they would be vulnerable.
Vạn Tam Thông sat opposite him, occasionally sipping from an ancient, crackle-glazed ceramic teapot. He watched the boy's contemplative expression with growing admiration. This child possessed not only strength and will, but also a thinking mind—a quality far more precious than innate cultivation talent.
"Trần Kiên," Vạn Tam Thông suddenly spoke, his voice warm and deep. "Do you notice anything strange about the road ahead?"
Kiên narrowed his eyes. The road stretched on, but the forest flanking it had become unnaturally gloomy. A thin, ash-gray fog drifted just above the ground, despite the bright sun. The air grew colder, and the trees within the fog were strangely withered, their leaves a sickly yellow instead of a vibrant green. A faint, sweet, yet cloying odor hung in the air.
He answered with certainty, "Fog in broad daylight, unnaturally withered trees, and a strange smell. This isn't a natural phenomenon. It's likely a miasma, or perhaps a simple formation."
Vạn Tam Thông nodded, his eyes showing clear satisfaction. "An excellent analysis. This is the Blue Sand Miasma, produced by the Blue Sand Grass. It isn't fatally toxic on its own, but prolonged exposure will leave an ordinary person weak and powerless. Even low-level cultivators will find their spiritual energy stagnating if they are unprepared. The mountain bandits in this region often use it against inexperienced caravans."
Just as he finished speaking, a guard from the front of the column ran back, his face pale and his voice trembling. "Master Vạn, it's bad! The scouts ahead suddenly felt their limbs go numb! They're dizzy and can't even lift their weapons! I think we've fallen into the bandits' trap!"
A wave of panic and confusion rippled through the caravan. Vạn Tam Thông remained calm, but his expression had turned grim. He looked at Trần Kiên, as if posing a test. "In your opinion, what should we do?"
Trần Kiên was not flustered. He knew the key was to neutralize the Blue Sand Miasma. He recalled the lessons his parents had taught him about the five elements—how they support and counter each other.
"Blue Sand Grass is yin and cold in nature; it thrives in dampness," Trần Kiên stated confidently. "Since its nature is yin and cold, it must fear yang energy—strong fire and pungent, stimulating scents. Master Vạn, have your men wrap cloth around torches, soak them in oil, and light them. At the same time, find any dried medicinal herbs in our cargo—realgar powder, mugwort, or even pomelo peels—and burn them to create a thick, acrid smoke. We will advance slowly, using the yang nature of the fire and smoke to dispel the yin-natured miasma."
Without a moment's hesitation, Vạn Tam Thông gave the order. "Do as Young Brother Trần says! Quickly!"
The guards sprang into action. A dozen large torches were lit, their flickering flames chasing away the gloom. Realgar powder and dried herbs were tossed into the fire, releasing a plume of yellowish smoke with a sharp, pungent odor. The caravan reformed into a tight defensive circle and slowly advanced into the fog.
Just as Kiên predicted, the moment the torch smoke met the gray miasma, the fog began to dissipate like snow in a fire, clearing a safe path. The guards who had been affected, upon inhaling the medicated smoke, felt their minds clear and their strength gradually return.
"Hahaha, a brilliant plan! Truly brilliant! Using yang to conquer yin—so simple, yet so effective! Young Brother Trần, you are a true talent!" Vạn Tam Thông clapped his hands, unable to hide his delight and admiration.
But Trần Kiên's expression remained calm. He knew that breaking the miasma was only the first step. The bandits were still out there, hiding in the forest. He needed to strike at their morale. He leaned in and whispered a few sentences to Vạn Tam Thông. The merchant's eyes widened in surprise, looking at the boy as if he were a young monster.
Without hesitating, he nodded, then took a deep breath. Channeling his internal energy, he roared, his voice echoing through the valley like thunder. "The Vạn Bảo Caravan travels under the order of an Elder from the Azure Cloud Sect to deliver a shipment of precious herbs! You bandits of Blue Sand Valley, surrender now and receive the Azure Cloud Sect's mercy!"
At the same time, following Kiên's instructions, he signaled ten of his strongest guards. They lined up, holding large bronze shields, and began striking them rhythmically with their swords. The sharp, clanging sounds—Clang! Clang! Clang!—reverberated through the forest, mimicking the sound of a large-scale battle.
The powerful shout, combined with the clash of metal and the four words "Azure Cloud Sect Elder," had a devastating psychological effect.
Deep in the forest, the bandits were utterly terrified. Their plan had been foiled, and now they heard the name of the Azure Cloud Sect—and an Elder, no less. Their souls practically fled their bodies.
"Boss, it's bad! It's the Azure Cloud Sect! An Elder is with them! We have to run!"
"Dammit! How did we provoke such a disastrous star!"
A hundred bandits threw down their weapons and fled in a chaotic stampede, trampling over each other in their haste to escape deeper into the mountains.
The Vạn Bảo Caravan passed through the most dangerous part of their journey without losing a single man or shedding a single drop of blood. The guards now looked at Trần Kiên as if he were a deity.
After they had cleared the valley, Vạn Tam Thông turned to him, his eyes filled with a complex emotion. "How did you know they would fall for it without suspicion? And how did you know I had a banner of the Azure Cloud Sect, something I had almost forgotten myself?"
Trần Kiên calmly pointed to a hidden corner on one of the wagons. There, partially covered by a tarp, was a small, azure-colored flag embroidered with a white crane.
"They use a low-level trick like the Blue Sand Miasma, which shows they are not desperate fighters but cunning opportunists," Kiên explained. "People like that are cowards at heart; they fear the strong. I noticed that flag when I first boarded. Even if it's not an official banner, in a moment of panic, any connection to the Azure Cloud Sect is enough to terrify them. Adding the words 'Elder' and 'precious herbs' makes the story more believable, explaining why someone was able to break your miasma. It was just a small trick to avoid unnecessary bloodshed."
Vạn Tam Thông slapped Trần Kiên firmly on the shoulder and let out a booming laugh. "Good! Excellent! Not only a body of iron, but a mind sharper than most! Trần Kiên, your future does not lie with a small caravan like this. Thanh Châu City—that is a stage grand enough for you to truly shine!"
Kiên gazed into the distance where the sky met the earth. A powerful conviction rose within him. The road ahead was long, but he believed that with his own strength, intelligence, and will, he would reclaim the lost glory of the ancient Lạc Việt people and make it shine more brilliantly than ever before.