Sun Jiao didn't let them celebrate the kill.
He didn't even let them rest properly.
"Knife," he said, and held out his hand.
Ma Qiao passed him a short skinning knife. The blade was chipped, but sharp enough to do ugly work.
Sun Jiao knelt by the horned boar and cut fast, practiced, working by habit rather than skill. He didn't take the tusks first. That was how boys got stabbed in the back. He opened the belly and pulled out the warm organs with quick motions, separating the gall bladder and a small lump of tough flesh near the heart.
"Bile," he muttered. "And heart meat. Not worth much, but worth something."
Tu Shun's eyes glittered. "Tusk is worth more," he said.
Sun Jiao didn't look up. "Tusk is worth a fight," he replied.
Qin Sui wiped her spear tip and said, "Fight is coming anyway."
The freckled boy still sat shaking by the stream, hands muddy, eyes fixed on Tu Shun with silent hatred.
Wuchen kept gathering herbs, but he listened as if the words were tracks in dirt.
Sun Jiao finished cutting and held up the bile sac. It was greenish and slick, tied off with thread.
He looked around. "We split," he said.
Tu Shun smiled. "Finally."
Sun Jiao's eyes stayed cold. "Not like thieves," he said. "Like a team that wants to return alive."
He pointed at Ma Qiao and Qin Sui. "You two get bile and heart meat," he said. "You pinned it. You risked being gored."
Ma Qiao didn't smile. He only nodded, accepting.
Qin Sui grunted. "Fair."
Sun Jiao then looked at the freckled boy. "You get nothing," he said.
The boy's mouth opened in shock. "Captain—"
Sun Jiao's tone stayed flat. "You stood up too fast and pulled the charge," he said. "Your mistake almost killed us."
The boy's face went white. Humiliation hit harder than the mud had.
Sun Jiao turned to Tu Shun. "You get less," he said. "Because you kicked a teammate to save your skin."
Tu Shun's smile didn't fade, but his eyes sharpened. "I saved the group," he said again.
Sun Jiao finally looked up, blade in hand. "You saved yourself," he said. "And you stole herbs while we were bleeding."
Tu Shun shrugged. "Scraps keep you alive."
Sun Jiao nodded slowly. "Yes," he said. "Scraps keep you alive. Greed gets you cut."
He turned his gaze to Wuchen.
Wuchen's fingers paused on a herb root.
Sun Jiao said, "You threw mud."
Wuchen lowered his head. "This one panicked."
Sun Jiao stared at him for a breath. "Your panic saved time," he said. "So you get a share."
Wuchen's throat tightened slightly. He didn't show it.
Sun Jiao reached for the boar's tusk now, gripped it with both hands, and twisted until bone cracked. The sound was thick and unpleasant.
He snapped one tusk free.
Then he snapped the second.
He held them up, one in each hand, and looked at the team like a man holding two knives.
"Tusk goes into a team pouch," Sun Jiao said. "We sell it at the sect. We split when we return. Anyone who tries to hide it gets his hands broken."
Tu Shun laughed softly. "And who holds the pouch?"
Sun Jiao's eyes narrowed. "Me," he said.
Tu Shun's smile sharpened. "So you can run off with it."
Sun Jiao didn't flinch. "If I run," he said, "you chase. If you chase, beasts eat you. If beasts eat you, no one gets tusk."
He dropped both tusks into his pack and tightened the knot. "So don't make me run," he said.
Silence settled.
Ma Qiao looked away. Qin Sui stayed expressionless. The freckled boy stared at the ground.
Tu Shun smiled like a man watching a slow fire.
Wuchen lowered his gaze and went back to gathering herbs.
Sun Jiao's split wasn't generous. It was control. Control was the only thing keeping the team from tearing itself apart before the mountain did it.
They moved after that, leaving the boar carcass behind after taking what mattered. Leaving carcasses behind was smart, but it also meant anyone following them could smell blood and track them easily.
Wuchen knew it. He didn't say it. Sun Jiao knew it too.
The team climbed toward higher ground, away from the damp basin and toward a rocky shelf where wind kept scents moving. The terrain grew harsher: loose stones, thorn brush, patches of yellow moss that crumbled underfoot.
By late afternoon, they found their first herb patch worth arguing over.
A cluster of red-leafed plants growing between rocks, low to the ground, leaves shining like lacquer.
Ma Qiao crouched and said, "Redscale leaf."
Qin Sui's eyes narrowed. "Good for blood," she said. "Worth more than bitter moon grass."
Tu Shun's gaze sharpened. "How many?"
Ma Qiao counted quickly. "Twelve plants," he said.
Sun Jiao looked at the patch and said, "We take six and leave six."
Tu Shun snorted. "Leave for who?"
Sun Jiao's voice stayed flat. "For the mountain," he said. "If we strip it clean, beasts notice. If beasts notice, we fight."
Tu Shun's eyes glittered. "We fight anyway."
Sun Jiao turned slowly. "Do you want to fight now?" he asked.
Tu Shun smiled. "Not against you," he said. "Against beasts."
Sun Jiao nodded. "Then stop trying to start fights with people," he said.
Tu Shun's smile thinned. "People are easier than beasts."
Wuchen listened and kept his face dull.
Tu Shun was saying the truth out loud. That made him dangerous. Men who spoke truth didn't fear being hated. They feared only losing.
Sun Jiao divided the redscale leaves quickly, making each person hold their share openly so no one could pretend later. The freckled boy received one plant, the smallest, given like a bone to keep him from snapping.
The boy's eyes burned, but he took it.
They climbed again as the sun lowered.
Then they heard it.
A distant roar.
Not a boar. Not a wolf. A deep sound that rolled through the ravine and made small stones tremble.
Ma Qiao froze. Qin Sui's grip tightened on her spear. Sun Jiao's face hardened.
Tu Shun smiled, but it wasn't greedy now. It was nervous.
"What is that?" the freckled boy whispered.
Sun Jiao answered quietly. "That's not ours," he said.
He pointed toward the ridge line ahead. "We move," he said. "Now. We don't want to be near whatever made that sound."
Wuchen's eyes narrowed.
The roar had come from deeper in Blackridge Ravine.
Where the minor ruins were rumored to be.
Where teams would gather like flies to meat.
Sun Jiao moved them fast, not running, but not letting anyone lag. They reached a narrow shelf with a cliff wall on one side and a drop on the other.
Perfect ambush ground.
Wuchen didn't like it.
Sun Jiao stopped and listened again.
Below, footsteps.
Many.
Not beasts.
People.
Another team climbing up toward their shelf.
Sun Jiao's eyes narrowed. "Hide," he whispered.
Tu Shun scoffed. "Why?"
Sun Jiao's voice turned cold. "Because if they see our pack heavy," he said, "they'll ask what we have."
Tu Shun's eyes glittered. "Let them ask."
Sun Jiao stared at him. "And when they don't ask nicely?"
Tu Shun's smile widened. "Then we fight."
Wuchen lowered his head and slipped behind a rock outcrop with the others, letting his body flatten into shadow. He kept his breath shallow and listened to the approaching voices.
A man's voice, loud and arrogant. "Hurry," it said. "The roar came from the ruin mouth. If we're late, we get scraps."
Another voice laughed. "Scraps still feed."
Wuchen's jaw tightened slightly.
Scraps.
Everyone loved that word until it became their own blood.
Footsteps reached the shelf.
Sun Jiao held his team still, silent as stones.
The other team passed close enough that Wuchen smelled their sweat and cheap wine. Their leader wore a better robe trim and carried a spear with a polished head.
Inner disciple's favor, perhaps.
As they passed, one of them paused.
He sniffed the air.
Then he turned his head slightly toward the rock outcrop where Wuchen hid.
Wuchen's fingers tightened in the dirt.
The man smiled slowly.
"Someone's hiding," he said softly.
And on the shelf, in the last light of day, Team Twelve's first human fight arrived without warning.