The dawn arrived crisp and clear. Uncle Beng was already bustling about, opening his shop. His workers hurried to sweep the courtyard, preparing to receive the farmers laden with the bounty of their fields.

  Han Sen and Tek Liong lent a hand, lifting tables and scales. But once the work was done, they were dismissed. The space was too cramped for two young men unversed in the ways of commerce.

  Tek Liong led Han Sen to the quieter edge of Baihe Li, among the cool shade of bamboo groves and the edge of the forest. As they walked, they spoke, sharing tales of their separate lives. Han Sen knew only the rhythms of the soil, a world foreign to Tek Liong. Slowly, Han Sen began to speak of his journey, of the elusive master who had imparted the secrets of the Five Winds movement and the devastating power of the Five Thunders Palm. In return, Tek Liong spun yarns of his travels with his father, tales of distant markets and shrewd negotiations.

  They settled beside a murmuring stream that traced the edge of the woods. The morning air was sweet, a balm to Han Sen’s spirit, a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere within the Pagoda. The memory of its trials lingered like a shadow.

  It was not long before five youths, roughly their age, appeared. A sudden chill seemed to grip the air as they were seen. Tek Liong faces paled.

  “It is Kang Lok Kiam and his retinue!” said Tek Liong.

  “Kang Lok Kiam?” Han Sen inquired.

  “The son of Kang Seng Kok, the magistrate overseeing this region!”

  Han Sen recalled Tek Liong’s earlier mention of Kang Seng Kok and his son. He had been awaiting news from the magistrate regarding his mother's disappearance. A pang of uncertainty tightened his chest.

  “Hah! The merchant’s whelp dares to be here!” sneered one of the youths, the smallest and most effervescent of the group.

  “Tek Liong! The merchant’s son!” another echoed, his voice laced with disdain.

  “A merchant! The Grand Sage himself declared it the most ignominious profession!”

  “Young Master Lok Kiam, what shall we do with these lowborn curlings? Perhaps they are too ignorant to even comprehend their own wretchedness!” a boy standing close to Lok Kiam suggested, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

  Lok Kiam’s face twisted into a sneer. "How would such rabble understand the teachings of the Confucious? They know nothing of the order of the world: Shi, Nong, Gong, Shang! My father's work – Shi – is the most revered. His is Shang, the lowest of the low!"

  Tek Liong’s face flushed crimson, but he remained silent, a trapped mouse before a hungry cat. He felt the weight of the insult settle upon him, a physical burden.

  "Han Sen, do not provoke them,” Tek Liong whispered, his voice trembling with fear, his eyes pleading. “His father, Magistrate Kang Seng Kok, holds great power. We will suffer for your defiance.”

  The smallest of the youths, emboldened by Tek Liong’s timidity, kicked out at him, his foot connecting squarely with Tek Liong’s abdomen. The boy crumpled, writhing in pain on the damp earth.

  Han Sen’s heart burned with a quiet rage. He began to shift into a fighting stance, but Tek Liong’s desperate plea stopped him. "Brother Han Sen, please… do not."

  The second youth approached Han Sen and slapped his face with unexpected force. A bloom of red stained Han Sen’s cheek, but he did not stagger.

  No matter how strong a common youth might be, he could not deliver a blow that could truly harm Han Sen. The power cultivated within, the internal strength gained through his trials within the Pagoda of Nine Awareness, rendered him nearly invulnerable to common folks.

  “You should know your place! You are base, performing base work! It is far better to be a farmer, serving the nobility like my father!” Lok Kiam proclaimed, his voice dripping with arrogance.

  Han Sen stood motionless, his head bowed, offering no reply.

  “You ought to know you must prostrate yourselves before a young master! Kneel!” The youths shuffled closer, kicking at Han Sen’s legs and abdomen. They believed these petty attacks would bring him to his knees.

  But Han Sen merely circulated his Qi, deflecting the blows as if they were mere breezes. Seeing their efforts prove futile, the five youths pressed their assault, a swarm of angry insects.

  They knew nothing of martial arts, nothing of internal power. What could they possibly achieve against a man like Han Sen? For ten long minutes, they rained blows upon him, but managed only to redden his skin.

  "This boy's body is stinky! Why do we dirty our hands and feet?" one of the boys shouted.

  Finally, exhausted and frustrated, they cursed and retreated, leaving Han Sen and Tek Liong alone.

  "Brother Han Sen, are you unharmed? I owe you a debt for bearing that for my family," Tek Liong said, his voice filled with genuine gratitude.

  “But… those words they spoke,” Han Sen murmured. “They claimed Confucius taught Shi, Nong, Gong, Shang. I thought… perhaps the Sage did not fully understand the complexities of the world.”

  "Hush," Tek Liong whispered, his voice tight with fear. "Do not speak such words! To criticize the teachings of the Sage is to invite misfortune.”

  "The Way (Shi) is for scholars and officials. Agriculture (Nong) is for the farmers. Craftsmanship (Gong) is for the artisans. Commerce (Shang) is for the merchants."

  "The Way should be wise.

  Agriculture should yield sustenance.

  Craftsmanship should transform the earth into value.

  Commerce should make all necessities available to all."

  "Indeed, merchants do not create, nor do they craft. The ancient Sage Confucius spoke truth in saying merchants do not make tangible goods. But commerce is the trade of services. Merchants bring the bounty of a village like Baihe Li to distant cities like Luoyang," Han Sen remarked, his voice echoing with a quiet conviction.

  Tek Liong narrowed his eyes, a flicker of amusement in their depths.

  “Sen-er brother, you speak now as a scholar!

  But words are fleeting. It is the perception of the people that matters. In truth, the work of a merchant is often considered dishonorable.”

  "My father desires that I not follow the path of commerce. He deems it a lowly profession. He wishes me to be a scholar. Perhaps, even a government official!"

  Han Sen’s gaze pierced through Tek Liong’s. "If I may be so bold, brother Tek Liong, I hold your father in great esteem. With all his wisdom and understanding, he is demonstrably more virtuous than many a so-called official whose own offspring behave with such lack of principle."

  Tek Liong’s face broke into a wide smile. Despite his youthful rebelliousness, he remained a dutiful son and was pleased to hear his father praised. They returned to the shop, observing the farmers arriving with their harvest, ready to be purchased by Uncle Beng.

  The shophands diligently gathered the bounty, piling it high upon wooden carts with massive wooden wheels.

  After midday, the flow of farmers ceased. Uncle Beng and his men secured the goods upon the carts, harnessing a sturdy horse to pull the load toward the city of Chuzhou, a journey of approximately two hours.

  Just as they were about to depart, the tranquil stillness of Baihe Li was shattered by the frantic cries of a young boy, sprinting towards the village hall. He was one of those who had earlier confronted Han Sen.

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  “Help! Help! Young Master Lok Kiam has been attacked by a giant lizard! Please, help!”

  A throng of villagers quickly gathered, their faces etched with concern. Han Sen and Tek Liong were amongst them.

  “This is the fault of those two! They were near the riverbank, Young Master Lok Kiam insisted on venturing deeper into the forest. That’s where we were ambushed!” the boy pointed accusingly at Han Sen and Tek Liong.

  They exchanged a knowing glance. How had the blame suddenly fallen upon them?

  The eyes of the villagers turned towards Tek Liong and Han Sen, filled with suspicion. Tek Liong stammered, "W-we... we know nothing of this!"

  "Then where is Young Master Lok Kiam now?" inquired a government official.

  “He's still in the forest! Still in the forest! Please, hurry and save him!” the boy cried, his voice trembling with panic.

  “Come, all of you, to the forest!” the official declared, his voice resonant with authority. It was said that Lok Kiam’s father, Kang Seng Kok, was currently absent from Baihe Li, rumored to be indulging in the pleasures of Chuzhou’s renowned pleasure quarters. But no villager would dare voice such a sentiment openly.

  The adult men of the village surged into the forest, a wave of anxious determination. Uncle Beng held back Tek Liong and Han Sen, insisting they remain within the house and await further news. The day’s trading journey was postponed.

  After all had departed, Tek Liong collapsed onto a bed, exasperated by the day’s events. He drifted into a restless sleep. Observing his friend’s troubled slumber, Han Sen silently slipped from the house. Utilizing his skill in the Five Winds Movement, he propelled himself upwards, a fleeting shadow against the sky, and swiftly headed towards the shadowed embrace of the forest.

  As he ran, Han Sen clenched his fists, channeling his qi and uttering, "I am Xiaoshile." Then, in a blink, he vanished from sight. Only the rustling leaves and swaying branches hinted at his passage through the dense forest.

  A band of roughly thirty men, armed with nothing but staves, had reached a distance of about two li from the forest’s edge. Suddenly, from within the dark thicket, a horde of colossal lizards erupted, each easily exceeding a zhang (approximately ten and a half feet) in length. These monstrous reptiles attacked the men, who were woefully unprepared.

  The men were caught utterly by surprise. Before they could react, a lizard seized one man’s leg, severing it with a single bite. A torrent of blood gushed forth, his scream echoing through the trees. The lizards, emboldened, relentlessly attacked, tearing into the man’s upper body and silencing him instantly. Panic seized the remaining men, their desperate attempts to wield their staves proving futile against the monstrous onslaught.

  They turned and fled, their cries swallowed by the forest’s depths, scrambling to escape the carnage.

  Just then, Han Sen arrived, witnessing the chaotic retreat. He saw the ferocious lizards pursuing and mauling the fleeing men.

  Without hesitation, he snatched a fallen staff, then unleashed a devastating series of Five Thunder strikes, channeling his qi into the wood. He targeted a lizard poised to bite the leg of an overweight man struggling to keep pace.

  CRAAASHHH! The staff, shimmering with potent qi and the crackle of thunder, shattered the lizard’s skull. The creature collapsed, lifeless. These beasts, despite their size, possessed fragile heads. With swift precision, Han Sen dispatched another, and then another, each impact a decisive blow.

  Within fifteen minutes, the last of the lizards lay shattered, their heads crushed. As Han Sen prepared to examine the fallen carcasses, a strange phenomenon occurred.

  The remains of the lizards crumbled to dust, dissipating into nothingness, leaving behind no trace. Han Sen surveyed the forest floor. Not a single lizard carcass remained. Only the grim remains of the men, torn and ravaged by the beasts, lay scattered amongst the trees.

  "What sorcery is this?" Han Sen questioned inwardly, a furrow forming on his brow.

  He pressed deeper into the forest, moving towards the point of origin from which the lizards had emerged. A li further, deep within the woods, he discovered a vertical vortex shimmering with a crimson hue, rising a zhang from the ground, nestled between two ancient, towering trees.

  Seen from the side, it appeared unremarkable. From the front, it resembled the surface of a pool, rippled and disturbed. Yet, shifting perspective, what appeared as a reflective surface revealed itself as a sheer, upright plane suspended above the earth.

  "What lies beyond this crimson veil?" Han Sen mused, his hand instinctively resting upon the stick he held.

  He stepped forward. With an uncanny shift, he found himself standing upon a field of tall, waving grasses. Turning back, he saw the crimson vortex still pulsing with an eerie light. The sky above was a breathtaking shade of lavender, unlike the familiar expanse of Baihe Plain.

  The verdant expanse of the field of tall grasses hummed with an unnatural energy, a sense of foreboding clinging to the air like morning mist. Soon enough, a fresh wave of gargantuan lizards erupted from the undergrowth, their scales shimmering like obsidian in the filtered sunlight. Han Sen halted his circulating Qi, drawing himself back into the view, his senses sharp and focused. He moved with a newfound freedom, his staff whistling through the air, shattering the skulls of the fallen beasts.

  The carcasses dissolved into shimmering dust, leaving behind them not empty space, but verdant gemstones nestled within the earth. They were a strange anomaly; there were none scattered across the forest floor as one might expect, but were presented in this isolated patch of land.

  Han Sen gathered the cool, emerald gems, his movements economical. He entertained no thoughts of their value, merely depositing them within the folds of his trousers. He pressed onward, delving deeper into the bewildering beauty of the plain, his mind alight with a quiet curiosity.

  Taking the crimson swirl of energy as his guide, Han Sen sprinted forward, his Five Winds movement allowing him to navigate the uneven terrain with effortless grace. After a distance of roughly ten li, a rocky cave mouth appeared atop a gentle rise. It was guarded by a veritable pack of twenty lizards, their eyes glinting with predatory intent. They surged forward, a tide of scales and teeth.

  With a fluid grace, Han Sen met their onslaught, each strike of his staff precise and devastating. The lizards fell, their forms collapsing into swirling ash that the wind promptly carried away. Each dissipation left behind another gleaming gem.

  He found the cave mouth unguarded, the beasts having met their swift end. Curiosity, a constant companion, urged him onward. He stepped across the threshold of the cave, feeling a subtle shift in the air, a parting of an invisible veil. Two steps further, and the entrance abruptly sealed itself with a kind of magic, the wall of stone appeared into it's place. The sunlight vanished, replaced by a soft, emerald luminescence emanating from the cave walls.

  The passage twisted and turned, smelling not of damp earth, but of something ancient and faintly metallic. Finally, it opened into a cavern of immense scale, the ceiling lost in the shadows above. And there, dominating the space, stood a colossal lizard, easily three times the size of any he had faced before. Its scales were the color of midnight, punctuated by streaks of crimson like fiery veins.

  The beast moved with a speed that belied its size, far surpassing the agility of its brethren. Han Sen danced away from its snapping jaws and sweeping tail, the Five Winds guiding his every step. The tail, he realized with a surge of apprehension, pulsed with an internal force, a reservoir of Qi unlike anything he had encountered.

  When its tail struck the cavern wall, a resounding boom echoed through the chamber, shaking the very foundations of the earth.

  The giant lizard roared, its movements even faster than Han Sen had initially judged. It pursued him relentlessly, its gaping maw filled with rows of razor-sharp teeth, its tail lashing out like a monstrous whip, imbued with a terrifying power. Han Sen recognized the need for speed, employing the Five Winds to evade its attacks, a whirlwind of motion. The tail carved a path through the air, the rush of displaced air a tangible force. He used its momentum, circling the behemoth, deliberately blurring its perception.

  He needed more than evasion. He needed to find its weakness, to strike a decisive blow. He scrutinized its movements, searching for a flaw in its brute strength. The beast relied on raw power, but Han Sen sensed a rigidity in its movements—a lack of the subtle flexibility he had learned from the Dragon’s breath.

  He slowed his own rhythm, no longer fighting the cavern’s pulse.

  When the lizard inhaled, he exhaled—lungs emptying as the beast's chest expanded. When it exhaled, he inhaled—filling as its ribs contracted.

  Not to merge, but to observe.

  In the mirroring, the Dragon’s ancient teaching returned—not as force, but as clarity.

  Every breath revealed the beast's pattern: the slight delay after exhalation when its guard lowered, the tremor in its tail before the strike, the vulnerable scale just beneath the jaw where qi flowed weakest.

  Han Sen waited.

  The lizard lunged again, jaws wide.

  He stepped inside the arc—not with thunder, but with perfect timing.

  The staff—simple wood, yet guided by breath-aligned qi—struck once, precise as a needle through silk.

  The blow landed accurately upon its head, qi surging along the vulnerable channel.

  The lizard froze.

  A shudder passed through its massive frame.

  Then it collapsed—not in dissolution, but in stillness—body crumpling like a mountain after an earthquake, scales dull, eyes dimming to empty glass.

  Han Sen lowered the staff, breathing steadily.

  He had not overpowered the guardian.

  He had seen its rhythm and struck where the rhythm broke.

  From the fallen beast rose no light, no infusion—only quiet.

  Yet in the silence, Han Sen felt the gift: breath no longer a technique, but second nature. Movement without strain. Perception without effort. The Dragon’s legacy, refined through this lesser guardian.

  Where the lizard lay, three objects remained: a bronze amulet etched with coiling clouds, a small dagger of shadowed jade, and a single emerald gem, deep as forest pools.

  Han Sen knelt, palms together in thanks.

  The cavern breathed once more—gentle, approving.

  He rose, treasures tucked away, and stepped back through the fading veil.

  The forest greeted him with ordinary birdsong.

  But Han Sen walked with the quiet certainty of one whose breath now carried the memory of dragons—not as conquest, but as understanding.

  The boy who had entered the hidden realm emerged carrying not mere treasures, but the patience to see what others could not.

  As he held the three objects, a blinding, white light engulfed him, so intense it obliterated his vision.

  When the light receded, Han Sen found himself standing in the open forest, back at the location of the crimson swirl. The swirl was gone, leaving no trace of its existence.

  He carefully stowed his newfound treasures, then turned and fled back towards Baihe Li, his mind reeling from the events he had just witnessed.

  Could it be... he wondered, his thoughts troubled, is my mother’s disappearance connected to the appearance of these monsters?

  He moved swiftly, while the village of Baihe Li buzzed with an inexplicable fear. None of them knew of the battles fought, the secrets unearthed, within the depths of the hidden cave.

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