The first day had been a blur of hard travel, pushing through dense forest with Li Xuan setting a relentless pace. By the second day, however, things had slowed. Considerably.

  It was an aspect of being a cultivator Jiang hadn’t yet encountered – the fact that the more powerful you got, the further your senses could stretch. At his level, the difference was largely arbitrary, but Mistress Bai could apparently stretch her Qi senses over a distance measured in miles, and she was far from the most powerful in the province.

  Which meant that a group of cultivators such as themselves stood out, especially when they were moving fast. So while it was worth the risk to make some distance from Qinghe, at a certain point their speed would draw more attention than it avoided.

  Jiang found the shift almost relaxing, despite the circumstances. Things were far from ideal, certainly – the knowledge that he was so close to finally saving his family and yet was prevented from doing so was… irritating, to say the least – and yet overall his situation was looking up. Once this mess with Gao Leng was dealt with, he would have the power and influence of the Azure Sky Sect at his back, which meant retrieving his family should be as simple as walking up and demanding them back from whoever had purchased them.

  Sure, he would be stuck in the Azure Sky Sect from then on – forced to learn how to properly bow and pour tea or whatever – but in exchange, his family would live a comfortable life. A worthy trade.

  And it wasn’t like he disliked cultivating either.

  The most irritating part of Jiang’s life was currently the constant, low-level bickering between Mistress Bai and Li Xuan. They sniped at each other over everything – the pace, the route, the quality of the firewood when they made camp.

  He glanced over at Zhang, who was walking beside him with a look of profound, weary resignation. They shared a brief, commiserating glance. It seemed surviving a Nascent Soul cultivator’s last stand and fleeing for their lives wasn’t enough to break the ingrained habits of Sect politics.

  Zhang had stopped trying to mediate by the end of the first day.

  Jiang sympathised, but not enough to involve himself.

  At least the slower pace gave him time to observe and ask questions. He’d noticed Li Xuan retrieving things—a waterskin, a piece of dried meat—from seemingly nowhere, just a flicker of his hand near the plain silver ring he wore. During one of their brief rests, while Li Xuan was checking a map that had appeared in his hand just as mysteriously, Jiang finally asked.

  “How are you doing that?”

  Li Xuan glanced up. “Doing what?”

  “Just… making things appear out of nothing.”

  Li Xuan blinked, then seemed to realise what Jiang meant. “Ah. The ring.” He held up his hand, turning it slightly so the silver band caught the light. “It’s called a spatial ring. A type of storage treasure.”

  Jiang frowned. “Storage treasure? You mean like… a bag?”

  Li Xuan hesitated, clearly trying to decide how to explain it. “In principle, yes. Except instead of a physical space, it connects to a separate pocket of reality – an independent storage realm. You can store items inside it and retrieve them at will. As long as it remains bound to you.”

  “Bound?” Jiang repeated.

  “It’s linked to my Qi signature,” Li Xuan said. “No one else can use it unless I let them – or they kill me and use certain… unpleasant techniques to force it open. The contents don’t age, spoil, or decay. Perfect preservation.”

  Jiang stared. “So you’re saying food won’t go bad in there. If I put a cut of meat in that ring, it would last… forever?”

  Li Xuan gave a small shrug, as though it weren’t anything unusual. “Essentially. It’s a little different with spiritual herbs – some of the effects fade even if the herb itself is untouched. For mortal food? Sure.”

  Jiang rubbed his temples. “How much can it hold?”

  Li Xuan actually smirked at that, clearly amused by his reaction. “Mine? Roughly equivalent to a large room, perhaps.” He held out the ring. “Here, you can try it if you like. I’ve temporarily added your Qi signature.”

  Jiang hesitated, then reached out. Li Xuan guided his hand, showing him how to channel a tiny thread of Qi into the ring while focusing on an object – a random stone at his feet. Jiang focused, pushed his Qi, and felt a strange, pulling sensation, like a string tugging from inside the ring. The stone vanished. He stared at his empty hand, then back at the ring. He focused again, thinking of the stone, and felt the same tug. The stone reappeared in his palm, unchanged by its journey.

  “This has to be expensive,” Jiang guessed, letting the stone vanish and reappear again.

  “Extremely,” Zhang confirmed. “A good ring might fetch enough gold to buy a manor. But once you’ve reached a certain level, they’re considered essential. No one wants to haul their supplies on their back.”

  “That’s insane,” Jiang muttered.

  Privately, though, his mind was racing. A space where food never spoiled? Where you could carry everything you owned without weight? It was… perfect. It solved nearly every problem he’d ever faced living in the wilds. No more worrying about meat going bad on a long hunt. No more hauling heavy packs through dense forest. It was everything he could possibly want.

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  “Do you have one of these?” he asked, turning to Zhang.

  “A much smaller one, yes,” Zhang confirmed, raising his hand to show it. “This one only has about as much space as a large backpack – useful for essentials, but nothing else.”

  Jiang scowled faintly, an undeniable pang of jealousy shooting through him. “Is cost and size the only difference between rings? And are there any limits?” he asked, already planning on getting one for himself. Somehow, though, he doubted he could afford it.

  “Essentially, no,” Bai said without turning. “Some rings can store mountains – theoretically, anyway – the Qi required to stabilise such a space would kill you before you finished binding it. Not to mention rings larger than a certain size are only really useful to store bulk items. There’s simply no reason to drag around a mansion’s worth of stuff, especially because storing treasures or spiritual items in rings can get… dangerous.”

  Jiang could only shake his head at her lack of imagination. Clearly, she’d never lacked for anything – if nothing else, he could carry around a mansion’s worth of food and water and never have to worry about going hungry again. If nothing spoiled in the space, why not?

  He resolved then and there that acquiring a spatial ring, even just a small one, would be his first priority after his family was safe.

  — — —

  They reached a decent-sized town just as the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. This wasn’t the first town they’d passed – even moving at a pace cultivators considered slow enough to not attract attention, they covered quite a lot of ground – but it was the first town Li Xuan and Mistress Bai both agreed was safe enough to stop at.

  It was larger than most they’d passed – a proper trading post, with cobbled streets and rows of tiled roofs that gleamed faintly in the fading light. The kind of place where news travelled fast, and rumours faster.

  Mistress Bai looked over the group as they entered the main street, her expression carefully neutral. “We need information,” she said. “If the sects are already sniffing around this far out, we’ll need to be cautious. If we’ve managed to outpace any rumours, we may even be able to sleep in what passes for civilisation around here.”

  Li Xuan nodded. “Agreed. We’ll split up. Mistress Bai and I will head to the tavern and see what’s being said. Gossip travels fastest over cheap ale. Jiang, Zhang – you handle supplies.”

  “Of course, Senior Brother,” Zhang nodded politely. “Anything specific?”

  “Food, mostly,” Li Xuan said, already glancing towards a side street. “Basic travel goods, nothing traceable. Here.” He reached into his sleeve and flicked something toward Jiang.

  Jiang caught it out of reflex – a gold coin, gleaming faintly in the dim light.

  He blinked down at it. “This is… a bit much.”

  Li Xuan was already turning away. “I trust your judgment.”

  Jiang looked at Zhang, who only shrugged, apparently unfazed. Mistress Bai didn’t so much as glance back.

  He pocketed the coin. Fine. If they didn’t notice, that was their problem. He could pay with his own silver and keep the gold. No sense wasting good fortune.

  The general store wasn’t hard to find – a squat wooden building tucked between a smithy and a weaver’s. The windows were clouded with years of smoke, and the faint smell of grain and oiled leather hung in the air. Inside, shelves lined with jars, dried herbs, and tools filled the cramped space.

  The shopkeeper, a balding man with quick eyes, looked up as they entered. “Evenin’. What can I get you, gentlemen?”

  Zhang took the lead. “Travel supplies. Food, mostly. Preserved if possible.”

  The man nodded and began bustling around, pulling bundles from the shelves. Jiang took the opportunity to browse, selecting a few extra things – arrows, cord, a new knife. He justified each in his head, but mostly, it just felt good to have something useful in his hands again.

  When the shopkeeper disappeared into the back to fetch something, Zhang turned to him, lowering his voice. “Can I ask you something?”

  Jiang raised an eyebrow. “You just did.”

  Zhang ignored the jab. “I understand that you have your secrets, but as I’m sure you can agree, matters have rather escalated. Is there anything you can share? I cannot help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

  Jiang hesitated. His first instinct was to deflect again – tell Zhang it didn’t matter, or that it wasn’t his business. He hadn’t missed how Zhang had waited until Mistress Bai and Li Xuan weren’t around to ask this – that way they couldn’t shut him down.

  But in truth, Jiang just didn’t see the point in keeping this particular secret from Zhang. As much as he hated to admit it, the uptight disciple actually wasn’t too bad, all things considered. The most egregious thing he’d done to Jiang was plant the rumours that had him leaving the Sect – but that had worked out in the end, and Jiang wasn’t usually one to hold a grudge. He preferred to either get even for something immediately or forget about it. Wasting energy on things you couldn’t change was a quick way to die.

  Or, at least, it had been back when his survival depended on his hunting abilities. Who knew, maybe he could afford a grudge here or there after all?

  In the end, the fact that his ‘secret’ wasn’t actually much of a secret anymore was what decided matters. Li Xuan knew. Mistress Bai knew. It was probably only a matter of time before Zhang found out anyway.

  “It’s called a Pact,” Jiang said quietly. “Something to do with… Patrons, which are like old spirit beasts. Or something like that, I’m not actually entirely sure what they are.”

  Zhang frowned, processing the unfamiliar terms. “A pact? Like a contract or bond or something? And you don’t know how it works? At all?”

  “Not really.” Jiang scratched the back of his neck. “Old Nan told me a bit, but not much. She said the Pact was something older than cultivation, something… deeper. A bond that runs both ways. I’m connected to the Raven, which means I get some of its understanding about how Qi works, which helps me pick things up quicker. In return…” He hesitated. “Well, I’m not sure what it gets in return.”

  “That doesn’t concern you?” Zhang asked, incredulous. “And that doesn’t explain why everyone is so interested in you. It’s not unorthodox or anything, is it?”

  “It’s not like I can do anything about it, so being concerned is a waste of time,” Jiang replied flatly. “By the time I learnt any of this, I’d already apparently agreed to the ‘terms’ anyway. And I think it’s technically unorthodox, but not the bad kind of unorthodox?” He shrugged. “I don’t really know. Either way, apparently I can help people break through their bottlenecks or something, which is why the Sects want me.”

  Zhang looked floored by his last statement before he frowned and realisation washed over his face. “That’s why I broke through so easily,” he said, mostly to himself.

  “Probably, yeah.”

  Zhang sighed. “You’re walking around with an unknown ancient spirit inside you, bound by a contract you don’t understand, pursued by sects that would kill for it. I don’t know if the Heavens favour you or hate you.”

  Jiang snorted, turning as the shopkeeper bustled out from the back again. “Can’t it be both?”

  It was an offhanded comment, but Zhang went silent, clearly deep in thought. Jiang left him to it – he might not dislike the disciple as much as he’d expected, but silence had been a rare thing ever since Mistress Bai and Li Xuan had started bickering, and he wasn’t about to waste the peaceful moment.

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