All the slights he had endured, all the injustices he had witnessed, the arrogance of Yao Zhen, the cruelty of Li Ren, the casual bullying of nameless disciples, all of it coalesced into a single point of cold, white-hot fury. This man, this parasite, was the embodiment of everything he despised: a weakling who preyed on the even weaker, a liar who used the illusion of power to feed his own pathetic appetites.

  He took a small, deliberate step forward. Then another. The scuffed leather of his boots made almost no sound on the packed earth.

  Clang.

  His crude ironwood sword fell from his grip, the sound sharp and final in the tense silence. He flexed his hands, rolling his shoulders as he continued his slow, inexorable advance.

  A series of sharp cracks echoed in the square as he popped the knuckles of both fists. His eyes, fixed on the charlatan, were bloodshot, promising a violence far more real than any parlor trick.

  Master Huo, his chest puffed out with his hollow victory over the elder, finally noticed the approaching boy. He sneered, his fat lips curling.

  "Hey, you want to get a beating too—"

  The world exploded in a flash of pain. Huo’s words were choked off as Bi Kan’s fist, moving with the speed and force of a hurled brick, slammed into his jaw.

  There was a sickening, wet crack of bone. The corpulent man was lifted from his feet, his body crashing heavily into the dust several feet away, a spray of blood and broken teeth marking his trajectory.

  "H-HE—"

  Huo tried to scream, to call upon the gods he didn't believe in, but a shadow fell over him.

  Bi Kan was already there, his knee pressing down on the man's chest, pinning him to the ground. Then, the beating began.

  It was not a fight. It was an execution. Bi Kan’s fist rose and fell, a relentless piston of righteous fury. The first blow shattered Huo’s nose. The second pulped his lips. The third silenced his gurgling cries.

  The villagers, who had cowered for so long, let out a hesitant shout. Then another. Soon, the entire village square was filled with a roaring cheer, a primal scream of liberation as they watched their tormentor being systematically dismantled.

  The cheering was a distant roar in Bi Kan's ears. The world narrowed to his fists, his target, and the thudding, wet impacts. He didn't stop.

  He couldn't stop. Inside the vast, silent ocean of his Soul Sea, the ancient wolf spirit observed, not with judgment, but with a detached, ancient calm, watching its vessel unleash a fury that was entirely his own. This was not the wolf's rage. This was the righteous anger of Bi Kan.

  Smash. Smash. Smash.

  The feeling of bone giving way, of soft tissue turning to paste beneath his knuckles, was a grim, satisfying percussion. He kept smashing, long after the man had stopped twitching, long after the cheers had quieted into a stunned, awed silence.

  Finally, the red haze began to recede from his vision. The roaring in his ears subsided. He slowly, deliberately, pulled his fist back one last time.

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  He looked down. His hands were coated in a thick, crimson glove of blood and gore. Below him was not a man, but a red ruin. A crater of flesh and shattered bone where a face used to be. Huo was no more. He was… gone.

  Bi Kan slowly rose to his feet, his chest heaving, his breathing ragged. He looked at his own bloody hands, then at the cheering, weeping villagers.

  There was no remorse in his heart. No horror at what he had done. There was only a cold, profound calm.

  Bi Kan stood over the red ruin that had been Master Huo, his chest heaving, his knuckles raw and caked in blood. The cheers of the villagers faded into a stunned, reverent silence as they stared at the boy who had, in a matter of moments, shattered their chains of fear.

  Bi Kan took a deep, cleansing breath, the cold fury receding, replaced by a calm, calculating clarity. He turned to the awestruck villagers, his face breaking into a disarmingly warm smile that was a stark, terrifying contrast to his blood-soaked hands.

  "I have heard that you people are great hunters,"

  he said, his voice even and inviting. "Follow me. You will have a richer, safer life within the walls of my sect."

  He was already thinking ahead. This wasn't just charity; it was an opportunity. More hunters meant a steady supply of high-quality beast meat for the sect's markets.

  Instead of relying on the shared, distant marketplace used by three competing sects, the Jade Pathways Sect could become self-sufficient.

  This was a tangible asset, and assets were rewarded with contribution points.

  The villagers, their eyes shining with a hope they hadn't felt in years, did not hesitate. They fell to their knees, calling him a savior, a warrior sent by benevolent spirits. Bi Kan allowed their gratitude to wash over him before gently urging them to their feet.

  As they began the preparations for their exodus, a small hand slipped into his. He looked down to see Lin, her face solemn but her eyes bright with adoration.

  "Next time," she declared with the unshakable conviction of a child,

  "this Lin will save big brother!"

  A genuine, unforced smile touched Bi Kan’s lips.

  "Then, I will be relying on little Lin from now on,"

  he replied, patting her head. He saw her potential, the quiet resilience forged in this harsh land.

  Perhaps, when she was older and had sensed the world's Qi, he could take her under his wing.

  By then, he had no doubt he would be an Inner Disciple, with a courtyard spacious enough for a small, axe-wielding girl.

  Before they left, Bi Kan excused himself, a sudden, panicked thought striking him. The mission! He sprinted back to the Whispering Creek, his movements swift and sure.

  He found the crushed nest, the dead vipers, and with a grunt of effort, heaved the massive boulder aside

  He carefully extracted three intact venom sacs, their jade-green surfaces still glistening, and with a delicate touch, plucked the shimmering Venom-Quenched Frostpetal from the tainted soil, tucking both treasures safely away.

  The journey back to the sect took three arduous days, but it was filled with a sense of purpose. Upon arriving at the gates, Bi Kan left the villagers in the care of a bewildered Outer Sect guard and went straight to the Mission Hall.

  He explained the situation to the Junior Elders, presenting the venom sacs to complete his mission and detailing his encounter with the village. The news of a dozen skilled mortals seeking refuge and offering their services was significant enough to draw the attention of a higher authority.

  An Elder, his robes embroidered with the subtle crest of the Mo family, arrived to assess the situation. He listened to Bi Kan’s report with a stoic expression, but his eyes held a keen, appreciative glint. "Hunters," Elder Mo murmured, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face.

  "A valuable resource. The sect will provide for them."

  With a nod, he assigned the villagers new households within the sect's mortal district, his pleasure evident. Skilled mortals were a boon to any sect's foundation.

  When Bi Kan returned to the counter to receive his reward, he found the numbers on his disciple token had changed dramatically. Ten points for the extermination mission, and a staggering seventy points for his "deed of recruitment." Eighty points. It was a fortune for an Outer Disciple, a buffer so immense it felt like a dream.

  A wave of profound relief washed over him, so potent it almost buckled his knees. He was safe. He finally had the freedom, the breathing room, to focus entirely on himself. He thought of the constant, grinding pressure to earn points, the fear of falling into debt and being cast out.

  Now, that pressure was gone. He could finally turn his attention to the next great mountain he had to climb: his own body, and the path to the Body Tempering Realm.