The Crippled Disciple Who Broke Heaven

The Hunter's Trail

The hunter's trail was a goat path cut into the ravine wall, narrow enough that one wrong step meant a fall into the dark.

Ryker went first because his leg was bleeding and he didn't want Tobin to see how badly. Talia came last, walking backward, blade drawn, watching the torches below.

"They're not following," she said. "Lucien's spreading his men along the ravine floor."

"He wants to cut off the main route," Ryker said. "He thinks we'll run for the boundary."

"Then he doesn't know the Wilds." Talia turned forward. "The north fork loops around to a spirit spring. Cold water, no beasts. It'll hide our scent and buy us an hour."

Tobin made a sound. "A spirit spring. That's valuable, right?"

"Very. Which is why nobody talks about it." She glanced at Ryker. "You're bleeding onto the trail."

"I know."

"Leave it. The blood will pull the beasts off our scent for a while. They'll fight over it instead of us."

Ryker looked back at the red drops behind him. "You're cold."

"I'm practical. There's a difference, and you'll learn it before the challenge." She met his eyes. "If you survive."

---

The spirit spring sat in a bowl of pale stone, and the water was so cold it hurt.

Ryker waded in to his waist and let the cold do its work. The bleeding slowed. The pain in his ribs dulled to something he could carry. Tobin sat on the bank with his boots off, staring at the water like it had personally insulted him.

"It's freezing," he said.

"It's a spirit spring," Talia said. "It's supposed to be cold. The qi in the water heals surface wounds." She crouched at the edge and filled a clay flask. "You should drink some. Both of you."

Ryker drank. The water hit his stomach like a shard of ice, and then warmth spread outward—thin, weak, but real. His body strain ticked down.

[Recovery in progress. Body strain: 88% → 79%.]

[Absorption still suspended. Estimated recovery to safe threshold: fourteen hours.]

Fourteen hours. The challenge was in less than thirty.

"We need to talk about the ruin," Ryker said.

Talia capped the flask. "The seal."

"You know what it is?"

"I know what the sect says it is. A collapsed ruin from before the Azure Heaven Sect was founded. Forbidden, cursed, don't go near it." She looked at him. "I don't believe the sect. I never have."

"The thing under it is feeding," Ryker said. "Voss is routing corrupted disciples into it. That's what the experiments are for. Not weapons. Food."

Tobin's head came up. "Food for what?"

"I don't know. But it's old, and it's waking up." Ryker pulled the iron needles from his belt and laid them on the stone. "This is proof. Cassian wants it. If we bring it to him, we get the challenge moved, maybe cancelled—"

"No," Talia said.

"You just said—"

"I said I want someone in the east hall. Not someone who hands evidence to an overseer and hopes for mercy." She stood. "Cassian doesn't want the ruin stopped. He wants the ruin's power for himself. Look at what he asked you to do. Sign a paper. Become his informant. He didn't ask you to save anyone. He asked you to spy."

Ryker was quiet.

"You already knew that," Talia said. "You're not stupid. So stop pretending the system will save you. The sect won't. Cassian won't. The only thing that saves you is being stronger than the man they send to kill you."

Tobin spoke up. "That's what I've been saying. Only with less sword."

Talia almost smiled. Then she looked at Ryker. "You're not at the first stage yet. Am I right?"

"No."

"How far?"

"Fifty-two percent."

She frowned. "Fifty-two percent of what?"

"Of the first stage."

Talia was silent for a moment. Then she laughed—short, sharp, disbelieving. "You've been absorbing for eight days and you're already halfway to the first stage with no meridians. Do you know what that means?"

"Tell me."

"Normal disciples take two years to reach the first stage. The Heaven-Blessed Physique took Lucien eight months." She pointed at him. "You're doing it in weeks. That's why Cassian wants you. That's why Voss's men are watching. You're not a cripple. You're a weapon that hasn't been pointed yet."

The water lapped at the stone. Somewhere in the trees, something howled and was answered.

Ryker looked at the needles on the stone. Then at his own hands.

"Can you teach me?" he said.

Talia's brow rose. "To fight Lucien? In two days? I'm good, but I'm not a miracle worker."

"Not to beat him. To survive him." Ryker stepped out of the spring. "I don't need to win. I need to not die. There's a difference, and you said you'd teach me."

Talia studied him for a long moment. Then she drew her curved blade and laid the flat of it against his shoulder.

"Fine," she said. "Lesson one. Lucien fights like a man who's never been hit. He'll open with a big technique, because he's always won with a big technique. He'll expect you to flinch. If you don't flinch, you get one clean strike." She pressed the blade down. "After that, he'll adapt, and you'll lose. So your whole fight is that one strike. Make it count."

"And if I can't kill him in one strike?"

"Then you don't kill him. You hurt him enough that he stops thinking you're trash." Talia sheathed the blade. "That's the best I can give you in two days."

Tobin had been quiet, staring at his own hands. Now he said, "What about me?"

Talia looked at him. "What about you?"

"I'm not going to sit in the trees while Ryker fights." His voice was steady. "I've been useless my whole life. I'm not going to be useless now."

Ryker looked at him—at the thin qi, the latent capacity the System had shown him, the rusted hinge still tucked in his belt.

"You won't be," he said. "But first you need to learn to use what you've got. And we've got two days."

Tobin nodded slowly. "Then teach me too."

Talia looked between them, and something in her face shifted—respect, maybe, or the first flicker of interest.

"Two days," she said. "Then we'll see what you're made of."

She turned toward the trail. "We should move before dawn. Lucien will have men on the boundary by first light."

Ryker picked up the needles and followed. Behind him, Tobin fell into step, and for the first time since the pens, nobody was shaking.

Then the howl came again—closer, and not alone.

Talia stopped dead. Her hand went to her blade.

"That's not a beast," she said quietly. "That's a hunting call. Lucien's men have hounds."

And down the ravine, the torchlight began to move.