The night pressed down like a suffocating blanket, its silence broken only by the occasional rustling of leaves and the soft crunch of snow underfoot. Hui Jian moved swiftly and quietly through the dense trees, blending into the wilderness. His sharp eyes scanned the path ahead and his ears caught every small sound. He knew they were closing in on him—the mercenaries from the Hidden Thorn, hunters who had been trailing him for hours.
While their pursuit was dogged, Hui Jian's mind remained calm. He wasn't worried about their skills, only their persistence. They were just rank 1 Gu Masters after all—resourceful, yes, but hardly capable of catching someone like him if he chose to fight. But fighting wasn't always about brute force. Hui Jian thrived on strategy, on precision.
He could sense the presence of the mercenaries, moving closer, spreading out through the trees, thinking they had him trapped. How foolish, Hui Jian thought. The fools were walking into his trap.
The first of the mercenaries was just ahead. A man with a crude spear, holding a Firefly Gu that cast a faint light around him. Hui Jian slipped behind a large tree, watching as the man's steps faltered. The Firefly Gu, though small, revealed the uncertainty in the mercenary's steps. He was searching for Hui Jian, but fear was written across his face. The mercenaries had likely heard rumors of what he could do. It was in their cautious movements, the way they seemed to tiptoe through the woods like prey themselves.
Hui Jian waited, letting the mercenary come closer. He could see the sweat on the man's brow, his breath fogging in the cold air. The Firefly Gu was a double-edged sword—its light helped the man see, but it also made him an easy target.
When the man was within arm's reach, Hui Jian moved like a coiled snake. His hand shot out, lightning-fast, wrapping around the mercenary's neck in a vice grip. The man gasped in surprise, the spear falling uselessly from his hand. His Firefly Gu flickered in panic, but Hui Jian didn't give him time to react. He twisted the man's neck with a brutal snap, the sound swallowed by the cold night air. The mercenary's body slumped, lifeless.
The Firefly Gu fluttered weakly in the man's palm. Hui Jian took it without hesitation, pocketing the small light source. He knelt, searching the man's body for anything useful. A pouch of primeval stones—meager, but enough to add to his stash.
Hui Jian dragged the body behind the thick underbrush. No need to leave any trace for the others.
He heard the soft crunch of footsteps approaching. Two more mercenaries were coming, moving cautiously through the trees. The faint glow of the Firefly Gu had disappeared, and they were growing anxious.
As the Hidden Thorn mercenaries roamed the area, Hui Jian observed them from the shadows. His instincts told him that these men weren't here by chance. Whether they were hunting for him or simply opportunists looking for an easy mark, they represented a complication. But complications, Hui Jian had learned, could be turned into opportunities.
Rather than signaling or revealing himself, he remained still, calculating. The wind carried the faint sounds of their conversation—fragments of their frustration and crude jokes, and most importantly, their impatience. They were rank 1 Gu Masters, barely a threat to someone of Hui Jian's caliber. Still, they outnumbered him. A frontal confrontation wasn't in his best interest—unless it was on his terms.
Hui Jian's mind raced. If they were hunting him, it meant they had some way of tracking him or the materials he carried. He couldn't risk running blindly, but neither could he allow them to corner him.
A plan began to form.
Carefully, Hui Jian moved further into the rocky landscape, leaving faint traces—a broken twig here, disturbed snow there—subtle enough to catch their attention but not obvious. He led them through the narrow crevices between boulders, his pace measured. He needed them to follow just far enough, to feel confident they were closing in.
After a short time, the voices of the mercenaries grew louder as they closed the gap, muttering about the signs they'd picked up. One of them, a younger man, boasted about his tracking Gu. That was Hui Jian's cue.
He positioned himself behind a larger rock, taking care not to disturb the environment further. His grip tightened on his dagger, and his mind sharpened by the pulse of his Beast Strength Gu. He waited, breath steady.
The first mercenary rounded the corner, following the false trail. His eyes were focused on the ground, oblivious to the shadow lurking just behind him. Hui Jian struck swiftly—a single, precise blow to the man's throat, silencing him before he could react. His body crumpled to the ground.
The others didn't notice the absence immediately, and by the time they realized something was wrong, it was too late. Hui Jian had already flanked them, picking them off one by one with ruthless efficiency. His rank 2 strength, combined with his element of surprise, made short work of the remaining mercenaries.
As the last of the group fell, Hui Jian wiped the blood from his blade and crouched to inspect their bodies. They were low-ranking, desperate men, but even they carried a few useful Gu worms and primeval stones. He rifled through their belongings, pocketing what he could salvage.
Hui Jian thought about a passage from the Legends of Ren Zu:
In the earliest days, when Ren Zu walked the world, he was a man without Gu, without power, and without wisdom. He was pure and free, but also weak. His second child, Desolate Ancient Moon, had left him, wandering far away, and in her absence, Ren Zu found himself alone once again.
As Ren Zu journeyed, he came upon a vast mountain, shimmering with treasures. At the mountain's peak stood a figure, cloaked in shadows. This being had no name, for it was not born of love or creation but from the hunger of the world itself. It was Greed Gu, the silent watcher of all desires.
Greed Gu spoke in a voice like the rustling of coins and whispered promises into Ren Zu's ears. "Look at the mountain before you," it said. "All that glitters within is wealth beyond imagining. But to claim it, you must climb, and each step will reveal something more precious than the last."
Ren Zu, with his heart heavy from loss, felt a stirring within him. He gazed at the mountain and saw golden fruits hanging from its trees, sparkling gems embedded in the cliffs, and Gu worms of rare power crawling through the soil.
Greed smiled, for it knew the hearts of men. "Climb, Ren Zu, and you shall never be alone again. These treasures will be yours, and with them, all the power you desire."
And so, Ren Zu climbed. At first, the ascent was easy. He plucked the golden fruits and feasted on them, their taste filling him with strength. He pocketed the gems he found, each one shining brighter than the last. But as he climbed higher, the treasures became more elusive, hidden deeper within the rock, guarded by fierce beasts and deadly traps.
Ren Zu's hands bled as he dug for precious stones, and his back ached from carrying the weight of his spoils. Yet still, Greed whispered to him. "Just a little higher, and you shall have enough. Just a little more, and you will never need again."
But no matter how high Ren Zu climbed, the mountain's peak seemed ever distant, and the treasures he found, though vast, never satisfied the hunger growing within him. The more he took, the more he desired, for Greed had taken root in his heart.
Finally, exhausted and burdened by the weight of his treasures, Ren Zu reached a plateau near the mountain's peak. There, he found a small, clear pond. In its reflection, he saw not the man he once was, but a creature twisted and hunched, eyes glinting with avarice, hands clutching at the treasures that clung to him like chains.
Ren Zu wept, for he realized that though he had gained much, he had lost something far greater—his freedom.
Greed Gu, still cloaked in shadows, laughed softly at his tears. "You have climbed high, Ren Zu, but you will never reach the peak. For the mountain of greed has no summit. It stretches into the heavens, beyond the reach of any man."
With this revelation, Ren Zu cast aside the treasures he had gathered, letting them fall back down the mountain. And as the weight lifted from his back, he felt a deep emptiness within him, for the hunger Greed had planted remained.
Ren Zu descended the mountain, not as a free man, but as one forever bound by desire. And though he vowed to never climb again, the memory of the treasures would haunt him, for once touched by Greed, the heart can never truly forget.
"Greed," Hui Jian muttered under his breath, as he tucked the spoils into his bag. "It always leads to death."
He checked his surroundings one last time before slipping back into the wilderness, his prize secured and his path clear—for now.