The cold came before the light.
Dawn had not yet broken, but a silver haze crept along the peaks of Broken Soul Mountain, casting the snow in dull gray. A biting wind whistled between the sect buildings, sharp as blades, rattling prayer chimes and scraping frost across stone.
Fang Xi rose before the first bell.
Chen Zhi was still snoring on the wooden pallet beside him, drooling into his blanket.
Fang Xi moved silently — dressed, adjusted the worn leather belt at his waist, tied his boots, and checked the simple dagger he'd honed the night before. Crude iron. Not even spirit-forged. But sharp enough to bleed flesh.
"It will do."
He tucked two stolen cracked root capsules into a hidden cloth pouch. His body still ached from cultivation — a reminder that strength had not yet returned. But within his dantian, three weak threads of Qi now stirred.
Progress.
Outside, thin ice crackled beneath his steps. By the time the morning gong rang once across the mountain, a small crowd had gathered at the southern gate of the sect grounds.
Twelve outer disciples, wrapped in heavy robes, stood around a storage cart filled with rope, wooden poles, oil lanterns, and crude weapons.
Among them, Fang Xi recognized a few:
Chen Zhi, of course — big, simple, enthusiastic.
Zhou Yiren, dressed plainly, arms crossed, sword sheathed at her back. Eyes sharp, face unreadable.
Zhao Min, flanked by two of his usual sycophants, puffing up his chest and sneering like a rooster.
Three disciples wore Azure Cloud Sect robes — sky-blue trim, stiffer posture, condescending glances. One of them had a long curved blade and the air of a noble brat used to being obeyed.
They'd sent a joint team, then.
Fang Xi stepped quietly into place beside Chen Zhi.
"Ready?" Chen Zhi whispered, adjusting the strap on his crude axe.
"Always," Fang Xi said.
"Especially when no one else is."
A moment later, the task overseer arrived.
Elder Gan, a squat man with a crooked nose and tired eyes, stepped into the clearing carrying a long walking staff. His robes were fur-lined, and a jade token of the Ironwood Sect hung from his belt.
"Listen up," he barked. "This week's Beast Duty is a joint patrol with Azure Cloud. You'll move as one team."
A few mutters of protest began. Elder Gan raised his staff and slammed it against a frozen stone. The sound rang like iron striking bone.
"Silence."
He cast a cold glance around the gathered disciples.
"You're not here to impress your sect. You're here to survive and learn. If you embarrass yourselves, your elders won't come running."
His eyes paused briefly on Fang Xi. Then Zhao Min. Then Zhou Yiren.
"The rules are simple."
He held up three fingers.
"One: Do not engage any Spirit Beasts above first tier unless absolutely necessary. You'll know them by their glow — if the eyes shimmer, you run."
"Two: Stay within your assigned patrol zones. If you stray without a valid reason, you'll be punished."
"Three: You will return by sunset. If you are not back… we will assume you are dead."
Silence settled like a sheet of snow.
Fang Xi remained still, memorizing each word.
"Punishment for disobedience. No rescue if we disappear. Weak beasts only — which means they expect someone to be hurt anyway."
"A bloodletting wrapped in a lesson."
Elder Gan nodded toward the supply cart. "One set of tools per pair. Lanterns, ropes, fire talismans. Make it last. You leave in ten minutes."
With that, he turned and walked to the nearby outpost tower, vanishing behind a thick wooden door.
Fang Xi moved to the cart, grabbed a lantern and coil of rope, and waited.
Zhou Yiren approached him.
"I'd ask to pair up, but that might be too obvious," she said, voice low.
"Then don't," Fang Xi replied, not looking at her.
She gave the faintest smile. "Good. I prefer independence anyway."
Chen Zhi joined him a moment later. "We're set, yeah?"
Fang Xi nodded. "Northwest patrol. Zone B."
Zhao Min laughed loudly nearby. "Let's see who comes back with more kills, eh? Don't trip over a squirrel, Fang Xi!"
Fang Xi met his gaze — calm, cold, empty.
Zhao Min faltered for a split second.
"Bait."
"Loud, impulsive. He'll try to act tough. Might even attack a bigger beast to show off."
"Let him."
By the time the sun crested the eastern ridge, the disciples had formed a line and began marching down the snow-covered trail beyond the southern gate.
The forest loomed ahead — dark, thick, ancient. Cracked branches jutted out like claws. Fog curled between roots. Somewhere deeper inside, beasts moved. Watching. Waiting.
And the wind carried the faint scent of blood.
Fang Xi's steps were steady.
The hunt had not begun.
But it was close.