They didn’t bother to hide weapons as Hao approached. Spears and swords, even a few sabers mixed in, all clean silver. Not a drop of blood in sight.

  Hao could see the firelight rising above the camp from more than a hundred steps; it towered half the height of the mountain from the angle he approached. A warm beacon, whether it was welcoming or not, became a question.

  Hao stopped using Seven Colored Steps the moment he spotted orange flames framed against the night sky. He had little doubt they would take more kindly to another weary disciple walking to the mining camp over a gray-haired, tattered-robes madman dashing in amongst them.

  Others walked towards the camp. Disciples of all three factions in their different-colored robes nod to one another and laugh. A few rejoined the camp just ahead of Hao. The guards, if that was who they were supposed to be, gave a single nod to the people who entered without question.

  Hao got the same treatment. The steady men and women with weapons drawn just glanced at him, one nodding, a tall man with wide lips. A greeting, perhaps? Hao nodded back—the man was in a white-cloak. The woman next to him was in blue robes like his, her small nose pointed forward out towards the dark, but her charcoal eyes glared at him for a second longer than she needed to.

  Hao felt a sudden pulse, a splash from a thin wave of warm water. The sensation made his posture straighten. He kept his cool, his eyes drawing a circle around the giant fire in front of him. The people around the camp were just as varied as the guards that watched over them. His steps didn’t stop. The unease he felt was overwhelmed by the lingering effects of Seven Colored Step.

  “Hear any beasts on your way in? By the Lord of Water, spot any?”

  The voice came from Hao’s right ear. Deep as a drum, long as a bell. The man, wide-lipped, straight back, disciplined, would be the word Hao would conjure if an Island Elder asked him to describe himself.

  Hao turned his head to look back at the man, “Beasts?”

  Can I ask for specifics? The three men from Two Rivers Fortress he pulled information from early on, called Mo Bangcai, a beast. Whether it was a fair descriptor or just an insult was up to the individual’s interpretation. Hao thought he knew the man wouldn’t ask if he saw Mo Bangcai in that way. The woman right next to the male guard had the same robes as Hao.

  Can he tell I haven’t been to this camp before? Hao thought he was good at blending before, but it had been a long time since he had tried. He found he cared a little less, too—Not just for blending in, but about most things since escaping the trial.

  While Hao was in thought, the man continued, “Most people leaving their group camps for the first time don’t know—Beasts have been a lot more active. Since summer’s ended, and even more now. A few have been spotted peeking from the tree lines.”

  Hao shook his head, “No, I haven’t seen or heard anything other than people,” he pouted his lip slightly out for extra effect. His head spun, going to the woman he passed, who must have been the one who scanned him.

  It had been a good while since Hao had seen a beast; they often wandered into the cave he used for his secluded cultivation, but there was close to no chance he would have seen one with how fast he moved with Seven Colored Steps. He didn’t hear either. Though he certainly wouldn’t turn down more meat and chances of Demonic Beast Cores. If they were Feline, that would be quite a bonus for his ego.

  The woman pulled her eyes away. Her black hair drew a wide arch as she pulled her head away, her gestures far too quick to leave any doubt.

  Hao examined the sensation of cold water as it faded. He was curious how sensory techniques worked after discovering these talismans. And other ways to supplement his strength, too.

  “Well, just keep your ears sharp, Brother. Good luck with mining, if that’s what you came for.”

  Hao lifted his hand in a farewell. A rather strange gesture to make, if he had to say, but the way the man said brother was just as odd. The first time he heard such a thing from a Blue Moons Mountain disciple. The words were simple, but held a steady respect.

  Hao got a good sense of the camp here as he walked along the edge. Tension danced with calm. The mention of the Demonic Beast once Hao chased out his worries made him eager to keep his ears sharp as suggested. For more than just a beast, though. He was hoping to hear the words of Mo Bangcai. The quicker Hao could take his head, the less trouble in the future, it should be easier to hide murder in a viper’s nest.

  People returned from the mountain with their holding bags lifted in the air. One group of four people had an actual hemp bag. They shook to a tink sound as they smiled with mirth. Seven people, Hao counted those who returned. Only two went to the large fire; the rest went towards the people who had the same robes as they did.

  The three sects avoided each other, not fully, but noticeably. A kind of pseudo-peace was created from three pressures pushed against each other.

  Hao was skeptical of the situation when he first saw it. Just like he was the first time he saw a camp like this back during the first weeks of the trial. It was easier to believe when he saw the two other groups’ disciples, Two Rivers and Blue Moon, were openly more uncomfortable, but not hostile, to the Drifting Stream disciples than to each other.

  The Drifting Stream disciples, however, were despondent.

  An aftereffect of Mo Bangcai’s open robbing and disrespect, if Hao had to guess.

  Not everyone was tense. Hardly half the people glanced over at Hao as he joined the Drifting Stream’s circle of shoddy tents. A fair bit of trading was happening between the Sects. There were still a few people enjoying the company of others, no matter the robes, laughing echoed in the medium-sized camp. Of course, there were the guards, who seemed close friends.

  Hao rested on the ground, not far inside the solemn Drifting Stream part of the camp, his neck bent back on the body of a small fallen log. He closed one eye. The other eye looked up at the sky, the clouds of the center zone couldn’t hide the blue glow of the moon during the last weeks of fall. He listened to the sounds spreading over the camp.

  The Drifting Stream camp was quieter, but far from some sort of prison, people could walk around and do as they pleased. Chatter about the new amethysts they found. Spots they wanted to visit inside the mountain, and how much longer they had until they could leave the Secret Realm.

  Hao rubbed his eye with his sleeve. No matter how long his eyes had this streaky effect, he couldn’t get used to it. He swapped which eye was open and closed the other eye, tracing the details of the first moon.

  Most of the conversations in the camp were similar. People shared their eagerness to leave the Secret Realm. To find whatever they missed outside, parents, lovers, some even mentioned children, others just wanted fresh food and wine from their favorite inn.

  One man with a cracked, dry voice got a laugh from at least half the camp. “Aye, a pretty serving girl that won’t pull a knife on me as she pours a drink… The young and mortal don’t understand that’s a luxury.”

  Hao turned his head and smiled. The everyday comforts of the mortal life of a land dweller seemed like heaven now, perhaps… I could just run away after getting out of the Secret Realm. A quiet life, cooking behind in an Inn—Perhaps not cooking, I haven’t gotten that good reception—Cleaning would be enough. A job cleaning, able to buy food, or grow it.

  The biggest worry was the bottom of the pot burning, overcooked rice, and fish being undercooked. Waking to a clean floor would be a good day; he could sigh on days when mud was tracked through the doorway.

  If he got married within the weeks he got on land, his wife would give birth to a child soon. A child… a son or a daughter.

  Hao lifted his head back to the sky, his eyes trailed the lightning streaking the sky. That damned Bell trial—He just started to understand. Understand the images the Bone-Shaking Trail showed him, the lives he could have had, and the deaths it taunted him with.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Not all discussions were as lighthearted as talks of favorite shops or pie filling. The later the night got, the more daunting conversations became.

  Hao listened to whatever caught his ear at the moment.

  Battles that had been fought during the initial rush for amethysts were the worst thing to hear about. Infighting, friends slaughtered for a common treasure—often by the person they let guard their backs. Mutters of revenge brought tension to the camp, but tears for crippled and fallen loved ones kept each person seated.

  The fight against those not part of your group, something entirely dependent on the color of your clothing, was much worse, or so it sounded, bloodier.

  Hao didn’t think so many people had entered the Mid-Summer cave Secret Realm, three sects’ volunteer Reclamation Realm disciples. More than he would have ever known if he stayed on the Island. At least twenty from the Drifting Stream, and that was the smallest group.

  Yet the way the people talked of the battles just months ago, when there were no moons in the sky, made Hao think there were piles of bodies stacked fifty high like warning pillars of war and death. He had seen something similar already. And in this place, in this Realm, in the shape of bone pillars rather than fresh corpses.

  Not a single person was spared. The prize didn’t console the victors, not after what they lost: enemies, acquaintances, friends, even lovers. Some were still feeling the shock of the battle. At least Hao thought so, not that he meant to eavesdrop on private tears, but it was hard not to hear the wailing of sorrow in the dead of night.

  Hao stood and walked near the guards. The guards paid him no mind, as he paced the edge of the camp, it seemed that what he was doing wasn’t uncommon. He sat, and the damp grass soaked his robes.

  “Most people don’t hear the sniffling when they sit around the big fire. The crackle of wood drowns it out, not so lucky, huh? Or have you just not tried yet?”

  A middle-aged man with dark circles around his eyes that were easy to spot in the night rocked back and forth as he spoke. He turned his head to Hao, then away, and repeated.

  Hao didn’t have a chance to speak. The man stopped his movement as he spoke again, “Fair enough, but just em food and they’ll start favoring you. Give’em wine and they’ll call you brother, a simple truth, free of charge, free.”

  The man pulled his yellow robes flat. A clear mark he was from Two-Rivers Fort, though he had no saber on his back, not a strand of overblown muscle that spoke of his physical training. He pulled close to his chest and curled himself up. His head pressed down against his legs, and his arms wrapped around his shins.

  The guard that stood in front of Hao turned and looked back at the man as he began muttering.

  “Not everyone is bothered by the sound, anyway. Either they are remorseless, or they didn’t kill anyone to begin with, not anyone they would feel bad about killing, maybe…” His muttering became muffled. He rocked again, this time with a shiver. “If only the number of Amethysts dwindled soon, if they were weak and useless. If I didn’t come here…”

  Hao pulled his head away, glancing at the guard, and the guard at him as they let the man be. He muttered for a while longer.

  Hao had already heard similar words from the camp’s discussions, a truce called most of the bloodshed to an end. Not all the conflict. To some, the fact bodies now decayed was enough to make the battle feel like it was still alive.

  Once the muttering of the man died down, the guard, another disciple of Two Rivers. Also, not the most muscular man, with long black wavy hair and short stubble that had gray patches standing out in the firelight, turned back to look at Hao again.

  Hao lowered his head from the sky to look back. Half expecting the man to say something, an apology, or a question. Instead, the man gave Hao the most awkward nod, which was the last thing he expected. The weird feeling permeating between the two of them might have faded if the man looked away. Instead, of course, he had to pick the most awkward option. A glance over to his tear-stained martial brother, then back to Hao with a grin that could have been copied from a nervous horse.

  Hao tried to escape the awkward situation, “Neither of you uses a saber? Even though you are from Two Rivers Fort, you must be part of the cannon division…”

  The man lifted a hand to his face, scratching his stubbled beard. “Ahaha, yep…”

  Hao hoped that the pause was just the fellow gathering his breath. That hope was lost when the man pulled his eyes away for just a blink, then moved them back. Why are you glancing around? Hao reached up and touched his hair to ensure it was still disguised.

  He continued after a moment, thankfully, “One of my Seniors once said, some of us were born to build, others born to shatter… It's like, the cannon division we are part of are builders, and the saber division—or fort, some people call them forts, not division—and they are born to shatter.”

  Hao tried not to glare as he nodded, “Yeah, I got that.” The man had more cuts in his robe than the man crying to Hao’s left, his knuckle covered in worn scars and ashen calluses.

  The yellow-robed guard turned back, his head tilted back and forth before it turned. Side to side, the orange forest on his right, the blue on his left, the mountain behind directly at his back. A call from the forest made him worse. Beastly roars and cracks of tree branches in the distance made him wince. His feet went from shifting to shuffling.

  His awkward movements must have caught the attention of the other guards nearby, who wandered over. A disciple in a white cloak.

  Hao profiled the guard the moment he saw the man turn this way. Late twenties, shorter than average, swordsman, steady footsteps… He stopped himself when he realized what he was doing, yet he didn’t stop his ears or let go of the tension. Even if he relaxed into the soft grass, his fingers twitched… Is this what Lang felt like… he managed, enjoying the cool of the night air.

  “Something wrong, you look jumpy? Tell you what, I’ll keep you company if you tell me a bit more about that big demonic beast you found.” The white-cloaked disciple turned to Hao, his face well hidden in the shadow of his raised hood. “If that brother over there knows of any Demonic Beast sightings similar, jump in.”

  Hao listened to them talk as the moons fell from high and began sinking out of the sky on the other side of the mountain. Midnight passed, but a cool, cloudy night continued.

  The awkward yellow robe guard described a beast, a dangerous one, with white fur, big teeth, and scythe-like claws. “The rest of the beasts I’ve spotted in the realm weren’t dangerous, but that one. There was nothing worse.” He flinched at every foot shuffle and fire crack. “I had to run—run fast, it was like a monstrous tiger with white fur. I felt so cold near it.”

  The words made Hao lean forward. Salvia nearly coated his lips; it filled his tongue, and he gulped. The Feline Demonic beast didn’t even taste good, but this one he described could be a higher rank; it could have another core. It gave him a little consolation.

  Hao kept calm outside. “Do you know its rank?” Hao asked; he had to.

  “No, it wasn’t a low or mid rank, though, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone told me it was ninth rank…”

  Hao got his feet underneath him and stood; an eagerness took him. Each of his movements, however, was slow, steady. “Is Blue Moons Mountain willing to face off with such a beast?” Hao asked with a kind of mirthful, friendly smile on his lips.

  “Hmmm, any beast with white fur is a treasure to Blue Moons Mountain, if it has cold properties like I think it does from this Brother’s stories, there aren’t many people from my Sect who would give up the chance.”

  Hao could see an arrogant smile through the shadows of his hood. “I guess it gets to it first, then? There are other big groups in the woods, aren’t there?” His question was half-baited; a few words about Mo Bangcai would only make the news of this demonic beast better.

  The white-cloaked guard didn’t answer at first; he just laughed. “Only one or two groups would face such a beast, I think. And those groups number close to ten.”

  Hao nodded in agreement. In truth, he didn’t agree with that at all, no matter the beast; unless it could think through its actions, a beast was a beast. A human could be a beast in that manner. Beasts were always weaker than their rank suggested, unless they had something more than tooth and claw to show off. The green-horned bull he found on the side of the Drifting Stream Sect’s mountain slopes came to mind.

  The White cloaked guard tapped the yellow robe guard on the shoulder, “Well, you can retire for the night if you want, start guarding in the morning when the thoughts of the beast won’t bother you as much. Ah,” He turned to Hao again, “You’d best find a good tent to stay in if it’s your first time here. Weather patterns are still odd in this central zone.” He said, pointing up at gathering clouds and streaking lightning.

  “There is a tent that takes people, a young girl from your sect.” He pointed over towards the coalesced group of small tents that belonged to the Drifting Stream.

  Hao nodded to the man. An odd and awkward good night was said amongst the three men of different factions. The yellow-robed man helped his teary-eyed martial brother up and into the camp. The white-cloaked disciples took post, standing tall as a guard, watching the grassy land ahead of them.

  Hao went to the area the man pointed out, touching his hair again. The last thing he needed now was the rain to wash his disguise; it wasn’t just the Drifting Stream that had a prejudice against Islanders.

  Hao wasn’t sure how to approach the tent he was told would take people in. He tapped on the side. There was no answer, though he knew there were people inside; he could hear a light chatter going around between at least three people. He crouched, pulled the flap aside, and poked his head in, “Um…”

  Inside, there was a circle of women. They all turned their heads sharply to him as he made noise. There were a variety of features, except for hair, all black, and robes from Drifting Stream, all of them.

  The smell of flowers hit Hao in the face—Though how they managed that escaped him. He had no chance to think about it either, as the last person he saw in the circle, he recognized. Based on her face, she recognized him despite the disguise of his hair.

  “Senior?” she said, just as Hao pulled his head from the tent.

  The girl crawled out before Hao could get away. “I didn’t get a chance to thank the senior for saving me back then. At least your name…” She came out on hands and knees, rising as she spoke, “Please, call me Fa—”

  As soon as she was on her feet, Hao placed a hand over her mouth. He moved to gesture silence to the girl he carried when he was running from Meng Hongyu. Hao called Hongyu Swordface back then. And before that, Hongyu slayed the man the girl traveled with. She he was an islander by his hair.

  She looked a little more than surprised, but panic didn’t touch her eyes.

  Hao took a deep breath, “Hao…” he said his name with a nod before going into questions. This might be my chance. “Where is Mo Bangcai?” He had a lot to ask her, but that question was enough for now.