Deep within a dense forest, scattered rays of sunlight shimmered through the foliage overhead, casting dancing motes of light across the leaf-strewn ground and painting an almost dreamlike atmosphere within the woodland interior. A piercing stillness blanketed the woods—until footsteps broke the silence, echoing as they drew closer from afar. Soon, silhouettes emerged, five figures trudging forward as a disunited party locked in heated squabbles. The sharp edge of their mutual vitriol rippled mockingly through the verdant space.
“Oh my, isn’t this quaint? A group leisurely quarrelling right in the middle of such times?”
Suddenly, a cool voice interlaced with faint mockery floated from the depths of the forest. At once, the marching quintet seized rigid as their heads jerked upward. Sitting aloft the tree branches in a somewhat staggered formation: six figures, young in years, but adorned with pendants shaped like tapering towers upon their chests. And as their mocking eyes looked down, their expressions mirrored felines sizing up cornered prey.
“You’ve come after the so-called ‘Fire Energy’ then?” One of the five—broad-shouldered and brimming with an undercurrent of power—spoke in dry amusement. Having ranked within the top fifty at the outer court of Jia Nan Academy, he wasn’t a feeble opponent, making him fairly indifferent toward these rivals who appeared barely of the same years.
“Bravo,” chimed the grinning youth bearing a serpentine facial scar as he produced the sharp report of a deftly-struck finger and thumb. With his tone thick in jest, he continued with lazy arrogance, “Seems you understand our motives—no need to drag this out further then. Hand over the ‘Fire Crystal Card’; let’s skip a painful ordeal. That sound agreeable—eh?”
“Screw you.” came the sharp dismissal from a gangly companion—scarcely had the words been spoken than space distorted and an opponent blurred in. Then—impact! Air cracked violently before erupting with brutal intent as one foot drove into that youth’s fragile midsection like thunder.
With thunderous recoil, he hurtled backward—splattering upon impact against the tree’s ancient trunk. Blood erupted from lips before his feeble efforts collapsed altogether in the dirt: unmoving amidst the forest moss, helpless before his humiliation.
With their ally felled, the large youth snarled, “Bloody hell, gang up on ’em!”
And just as his roar left his throat—the air howled again behind him.
Twisting sharply he beheld his other three companions—who had now tumbled across the scene in tangled fashion, sprawled in defeat as a trio of adversaries stood nearby with crossed arms exuding mockery as if they were artists over ruined brushstrokes.
A new voice slinked like velvet into the big youth’s consciousness, silken mockery in tone. “You’d do well to memorize this rule…regardless of who you once were upon the outer sanctum. Arriving at the inner circle means this: whether you are dragon, coil low; whether tiger—cower low. This was learned the hard way, through countless lashings, we elders pass down—for free—tonight.”
No more had he finished the words than from the shadows, a fist the size of a rice cooker descended like the heavens crashing into his face. His mouth split blood as he slammed down with little grace left upon moss-staked ruin.
“Don’t wish for worse of what’s been delivered,” the scar-crossed leader chimed offhandedly, “why not make the inevitable—voluntary and spare a pummeling?”
Five newbly arrived initiates stiffened—expressions flashing—yet gritted against rising pride and, with resignation typical of those who’ve chosen pragmatism over ego in the face of overwhelming odds, each slowly extended a thin slab of crystalline medium etched faintly with numerics.
In one swift motion, the five crystals collected with a single clinking noise within his palm—an expression shifting—hungrily seizing a single specimen before passionately kissing the crystal’s flat edge and swiftly transferring to allies three, keeping a new, soft blue slab for himself—an object gleamed under dim light revealing the engraved boldness of a number ’47.’
In the other hand, a deep black tablet—the twin to an ancient currency—flared briefly as both cards brushed with force against one another. Their surfaces flared violently and then…dimmed. Where once upon the deep blue slate the ’47’ had stood—only two digits remained where digits gleamed—‘50’. And its black counterpart? The numeral had changed from ‘5’ to—merely ‘2’.
“Tst, what trash the Academy calls a ‘newbie’s grace period,’ leaving even a scrap of fire energy behind.” The youth sneered at what lingered. Then he cast them away with disinterest, “Waste of precious crystals really… pity it all is.”
“Might as well move on then, Ling Ge.” another added, pocketing his new prize while tossing blackened crystal back toward his vanquished victim, nodding toward forest depths, “We’ve come far to secure entry into our own ‘Fire Energy Capture Hunt’ – and we’ll need at least ‘six days worth.’ Better we don’t miss time chasing shadows like today.”
“Ay,” Ling Ge nodded in agreement with amusement lingering around edges. He turned toward the battered lot with indulgent cruelty. “Miserable creatures, that shall do when teamwork isn’t practiced like it ought. A lesson well-received, I hope. One that grants you next year…to stand where we do. Perhaps you’ll one day hunt another poor fool such as now? But forget resentment—for it is an inner sanctum baptism… Ha ha, adieu, gentlemen.”
Laughing heartily Ling Ge motioned briskly—his band vanishing like phantoms leaping from branch onto winding deeper paths. Left in a clearing now silent but for rustling foliage were five crushed spirits, each face etched deeper into fathomless indignation.
Their vanquish lingering heavy in atmosphere.
But only some thirty paces into nearby foliage, another five hunkered under low branches hidden from plain sight—one observing keenly where those humbled newcomers had disappeared into distant forest trails. All this they’d borne witness without word.
“It seems clear enough this Fire Crystal Card must hold significance,” whispered Xiao Yan, inspecting in silent fascination the dark crystalline slab, its faint luminescence displaying proudly—a ‘5’ etched faintly. “Otherwise,” he trailed off slowly, “they wouldn’t have been desperate over scraps.”
Others of the party murmured in grim agreement. The target was unambiguous—Fire Energy, and fire crystals—no doubt precious, were the currency now.
“That’s enough, the lot scattered away. There’s no need delaying.” Baishan folded his arms, impatient lines crossing his face. “Hasn’t old Master Su warned: He Who Reaches First Gains the Richest Reward. Let us be underway,” his foot stepped ahead…
“Yet not so fast.”
Xiao Yan extended an arm—an intercept. The action halted Baishan instantly; irritation flashing at the interruption.
“Oh, you’ve another brilliant idea, then pray enlighten the class?”
Xiao Yan’s stare returned—undeterred. Eyes measured as calmly as tides shifting. “What quarrelling pasts we hold… that I don’t claim to cure. Yet, as members now united of but one singular unit; it’s imperative we learn, or at least attempt—to grasp that… there exists something called ‘Teamwork.’ Unless of course, you’d care for a demonstration by fate’s hand?” He trailed a finger briefly toward where recently defeated party had retreated moments previously—his implication unmasked.
Hug Jia’s companions—those that peered where Baishan and Xiao Yan stood locked—nodded gravely as well. That last elder team’s coordinated attack? Seamless, even poetic—no doubt forged from experience.
The enemy unit’s strength, by appearances—not far from their level. Solitary dueling held allure? Sure—but when unity and precision faced scattered dissonance?
Too often the underpinned win.
“I concur the notion,” Hug Jia murmured slowly after digesting words Xiao Yan had spun, “then, the only thing I see fit now remains one—captain. One must steer our course, lest the boat tip before sail.”
“Fine. Let’s say there’s consensus then upon hierarchy. Let’s name said hierarchy. And… who’s to command? Our captain?” The quietest, Wuhao, wrapped in crimson robes—a voice so rare, when it spoke at last—the question loomed as shadow cast midday.
His words fell upon silence momentarily. Then from the silence came a single step outward, and the silhouette stepped forth align beside Xiao Yan’s figure—her choice clear upon the forest’s dim floor, her steps final, decisive.
Xiao Yani’s silhouette shifted, but her action spoke louder than silence as the choice crystallized around them slowly. The others exchanged glances. Each a reflection carved from uncertainty and doubt.
“I’ll abide,” Hujia murmured with heavy, reluctant sigh—her decision followed as she walked slowly beside.
“I too concede,” rumbled a shadow beside XiaoYan, the voice dark and deep belonging to Wuhao—his decision echoing softly like gravel in wind as he approached to stand alongside.
Left at crossroads now was one last individual.
Burning eyes fixed onto trio standing side-by-side with Xiao Yan, expression shifting with uncertainty… until at last, the voice cracked free.
“I’ll walk,” said Baisan stiffly as he crossed forward. Yet not without caveat.
“Mark my words… I follow—for now—but if I sense foul play? I will strike the whip first,” the youth snapped.
“Each one of us—every hand must move as one—each thread woven into fabric strong as the other,” the Xiao Yan’s voice remained composed—but edged with clarity now as it swept over their gathered ranks, “I expect full loyalty and cooperation—else I must remind you again—what the consequence is when lines falter. Not for the first shall I make this threat.”
He turned sharply to gaze upon his assembled party.
They’d met once in violent clash. And he had left three bed-ridden for seven full days in the academy’s healer chamber—memories raw and stung fresh.
Now… this team had given in. Xiao Yan—their leader of choice in necessity.
What would emerge now, in deep jungle shadows beyond—would begin their true trials…
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