“What do think you are doing Grisla!” Gihren screamed, “Making promises you can’t keep is not only foolhardy, but effectively pointless! Who do you think you are?”

Grisla had expected to hear this. In fact, he wondered what took him so long. They made it at the house, but then Gihren yanked his offspring to throw him into their backyard.

Picking himself up, “I will do this. There’s nothing you can to do stop me.” Grisla said.

“Nothing I can do?” Gihren was unable to permit himself to laugh or be infuriated, and instead crossed his behavior between the two, “Nothing I can do you say? Watch this.”

Gihren moved how no cripple could. At a blink, his father’s shadow trespassed on Grisla’s, highlighting a plain arm thrown for him. There was no avoiding it, Grisla could only move to defend himself before it made a dent in his chest. “First strike: Earth fears the master!” Gihren had sent his son to a hop off the ground with just a fist, had he not crossed his arms against the blow it would’ve ended it right there.

It was a struggle, unlike the practice field, the backyard’s snow pileup had never been cleared. While Grisla’s uncertain steps made for a shaky defense, Gihren’s figure moved through the snow as if he had given a command to it—they feared his power, and Grisla felt it on his arms. Who blamed him, screamed at him for this foolishness to end. Unfortunately, there were eight strikes in Earth shatters; Heaven quakes. Gihren performed it with one hand.

“Second strike: Dividing rivers on a whim!”

“Third strike: Heavens within my grasp!”

“Fourth strike: The Buddha submits!”

Grisla’s eyes widened.

What’s wrong with him? Exerting himself might make him flare up again!

Against Rei Han, if he dropped reinforcing himself with Juva it would be likely he’d go even in a best of three, take the lead in a best of five, and a best of ten? Winning would be his right. Against his father? Who stayed on his tail like an enraged lion? Gihren… despite it all, despite his debilitated status, there was no denying he’s an expert. How powerful was he at his prime?

This is only a taste of the power my father has. The aggression; his footwork: the subtle shifts in his momentum, always probing for a weakness before I can adjust to his next strike! I can’t even keep his silhouette within vision before he moves again! Yes! This is what a martial artist is capable of! I want it!

He couldn’t help from grinning behind his arms. Grisla was seriously risking his arms to be shattered should he try any harder, to prevent this, he gambled on his evasion. A mistake.

His father’s game was at an end. Gihren’s hand—a hawk’s claw, yanked Grisla’s hair and his head with it, then a fist made a balloon pop at Grisla’s nose, blood flying free. “This is the difference between us, the Northern Wilderness has creatures like myself or better! Going there to kill yourself is not something I had in mind for your future, stop putting on false bravado boy!”

Wiping his nose, Grisla said, “Father… you left Leimuth years ago to explore the world, why? The reasons you left, and the reasons I want to go share the same intentions. I understand now, it has always been there in front of me… to follow my Path means that I will suffer in comparison, I will endure and grit and hurt and cry and continue on this repetition until I die, in which case will be an exit from my suffering or—to become something, that I can’t define as of yet.”

Gihren’s eyes slowly, but surely, released something, “Is that… how you really feel, my Grisla?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to understand, that if you die…”

“Yes. I have a feeling what your next move will be.”

“Grisla,” A hand landed on his son’s head, “there’s no shame in wanting a normal life. You could drop training, take up a trade, I’m still close with Elder Yun. If you leave the martial world, the troubles will end.”

Grisla spoke through a split lip and a leaking faucet of a nose—both intermixed at the end of his chin to make droplets hang in the open air. “Some part of me agrees with you. It’s reasonable, and honest. Thank you. Still..."

“There’s no chance of you giving in.”

“Correct,” Grisla said. “I’m going to see if my destiny really does lie in mediocrity.”

They both thought, on that day, below a sun whose rays made the skin surface of the snow shine like diamond, that possibly the Orlith family was going to die out this year. An acceptance, an eerie calm was in place here. A nosy wind blew through their garments, hoping to explore whatever depths were hidden to light. Behind Gihren was their family’s home. Not Gihren’s, not Grisla’s but the Orlith’s—now an aged, decrepit thing. The home presiding over them stood for generations, a lineage of warriors from what they knew, stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the Ancestor’s Ancestor.

For Grisla, there would be no turning back. He couldn’t help but second guess it, though, was it the right decision? If he opens his mouth now, he could save himself. But…

I could have a shop somewhere on the village square… the clan despite its misgivings will always support their properties, regardless of who. Get some work going, build my own place, find a wife, have a family… and they could carry the dream on for me. Think I would want a daughter first, if it happens, if there’s another me I wouldn’t be able to handle the attitude.

Gihren nodded, dropping some weight that’d been holding him down for some time. “That heart of yours, no matter where it takes you will be your guide. Because of that, I think you are owed some explanation.”

“About what?”

“Regarding your mother,” Gihren said.

Grisla raided Gihren’s stash to fill up on necessities. He’d taken ten of a middle-grade Sealing Tailsman, two of Gihren’s own Soul Cleansing Pills, and a sword of his. His pack wasn’t large enough to fit that plus the additional things he included from his own storage. He racked his brain, searching possibilities and mishaps that may occur on his trip. And, in some strange grasp to remind himself of just what he was undertaking, he looked inside himself, checking out the brittle thing called his core.

It was useless to see that sad thing, a man would take it as a sign of his mind not at peace, that an insanity was winning the battle inside. Grisla? He made it his caution, his guide for whatever action he decided on inside the Northern Wilderness. A reminder to always consider an option in realistic consideration of what he can, and cannot, do. He did promise to return, and if he had to abandon the plan, then sure. The clan, the villagers may laugh at him, but Grisla always had something they did not—Jadewater Hands will be his primary support out there, should he trip.

Grisla picked out a fresh batch of robes for himself, because just one tussle with his father had already soiled a second favorite of his, so he had to let his heart bleed at the idea of wearing the first. Donned in the clan’s white, but with his style of blues overlapping. Gihren was the last face here, over his shoulder, just a little bit ahead of the backdropped mountains, sat the Northern Wilderness and all its danger.

“If you don’t come back within the week, I’ll be looking for you.”

“No need,” Grisla said.

“Cut the act please,” Gihren’s skin lined his forehead, “let me hope that my worry for you sways you out of this silliness, you have nothing to prove.”

Grisla shook his head, “You’ve proven yourself, long before I came around. Despite what they say, they won’t dare to test your strength openly. Who can say the same for myself? Who would be willing to do so and debase themselves?”

With Giren’s sword and sheathe strap hugging him, he made the first step outside of the clan. It was followed by another, with the boundary crossed, a mote of happiness couldn’t be helped from dancing inside him. His father had left the clan, too. Came back powerful, and then hailed for years. Wishful thinking of the same; a bystander would call it delusion. There was no transformation occurring for him, however, a step of confidence will do.

The road hugged and bent with the mountain pass’ demands. To Grisla’s right, off the edge, down the fall that would kill even someone of his fitness, sat a bed of trees whose tips were swords and the lake under their shadow had a softened brilliance, he knew their Pillmaker often made the trip here to restock on water for his supply. Water with less taint made for a higher efficacy, especially with more laborious pills. There was no need to visit it yet, his own stock would last three days. It should, it consumed the most space he had in the pack.

If nothing goes wrong, with his leave at the crack of dawn should have him home before three days ever come. His core, silent as ever, was topped with all the energy it could contain. And in his six months of tortuous training, it sat at the precipice to the second cycle. Six months. Children would pass it in three weeks. If his sense weren’t mistaken, Han was getting near to the seventh, probably could pass over at any time during this trip. Grisla never considered himself the type to slip into jealousy, but he knew of his ache whenever it came to comparing with his peers, or peers at one point.

He touched the Sage’s Ornament, he did bring it with him, for good fortune or imagined. It didn’t matter, he needed everything he could get. On a clan map handed over to him from his father, the clan’s hunting grounds were a two hour’s walk ahead. To start over at the Northern Wilderness, Southern Forest meant it would be populated by One-star to Three-star Shade Beasts, he frowned.

Shade Beasts: irregularities in our world. Creatures who hail from a realm nobody’s seen or named. They feed on the abundant Juva that our world has, possess the life in our world, and with their ravenous feast their power grows, the longer they live the greater danger they pose to our kind. Mortal or Cultivator. There’s one unanimous enemy of all intelligent kind, and we’ve failed to exterminate them for unknown millennia.

Despite the direct danger posed to all life’s existence, the severity of the Shade Beast problem varies from region to region, as the weak of their kind, rather than being taken in solemn consideration, are better used as grindstones for the raising of martial talent. Shade Beasts have imitated the cultivation of humanity, and with that, possess a core like humanity as well. The likeness stops there, for these aberrant things to grow, they require to take from others.

“The Juva’s getting intense here,” Grisla said, he adjusted his pack, for seemingly no reason as he stared at the forest ahead. He was off the mountain path now and looked ahead to a land with sparse grass around, the ruling trees wouldn’t allow any unpermitted life below its domain. A camp would be best to start with, and because of safety concerns it would be necessary to have something up before dark.

His senses told him it would be in wise reason to turn back from where he came. He and it were both in agreement, however, stupid bravery would be taking the reins from then on, and there wouldn’t be a stopping to it until he’s retrieved what he came for. There was… a wrongness here, a pervasive feeling of something was not what it’s meant to be. The frontier was untamed, grossly unexplored—and he had the brilliance to come here.

After setting up camp, Grisla got to work. Script written in “clean” dirt, traps inside and out of it, and topping it off was the most important element of the camp’s defense, barrier talismans hung on the tree canopy above.

There were some wee hours left in the day. It would be pushing his luck to try a venture, but he just couldn’t help himself. Finding them wasn’t anything impressive to most, however Grisla had taken it up as a great chance at adventure, for someone of his level.

Liferoot, Springflower, Tree’s tears. The first grows at the base of trees, specifically to bodies of spiritually inclined water. Which would be the lake I saw before, but that’s… quite a ways over. Won’t be able to make it today, that’s for sure. Springflower? The details are vague, but it grows as a sibling to some roses, so I’ll check for that. Tree’s tears?

Grisla’s finger, enhanced with Juva, stabbed into the bark of a tree just beside him. With a twist and pull, the space left behind was filled by a clear sap.

Easy. I’ll check out how far I can get, then—

That wrongness, multiplied. It wafted over his skin like mist, and he felt like he was inhaling gel. Grisla’s body faced the north, where the shadows deepen by night’s emergence. At the last reaches of where his vision could distinguish, silhouettes were there. Now were they standing in place or moving? He planned for the worse, hands directing Juva. There was no helping that disgusting feeling, it seemed like an ambiance that couldn’t be removed, short of wiping the whole forest off the map. Which wasn’t a terrible idea.

He saw it, he saw them. Moving, their shoulders bobbing up and down as the muscle worked. A pack of wolves, whose fur didn’t fit the environment they were raised in. Instead of a glacier white, or a coal black their fur was steeped in a mixture of whatever sorts they decided on; with one similar pattern of a comma marked on their forehead or fur. This pack dashed straight for him.

Grisla didn’t need his eyes to tell him of the fervor they ran with.

Shade Beasts, so soon? The moon hasn’t even fully risen yet!

Shade Beasts can appear anywhere in these wild lands, but it would be much harder to stay hidden from cultivators seeking to slay them in the day, so with the intelligence they scrounged up it directed them for a better path for survival, to feed, to grow. The danger of sitting out here alone doubled by night’s reign.

His senses washed over them, probing their strength: two One-stars, one Two-star, and… one Three-star. Grisla could kill the One-stars in confidence—if he pulled out all the stops. But…

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’ll die here so soon!” Grisla’s Juva flared, clapping his hands together.