The valley below was still shrouded in morning mist, though it carried the smell of scorched earth and the faint coppery tang of blood. Rui perched atop a low hill, the long staff resting across his shoulders as his eyes swept over the village ruins. The remnants of homes were splintered and charred, plumes of smoke rising in thin ribbons into the pale sky.
Even from this distance, he could sense it: the subtle, shifting aura of the demon beast responsible. It moved with intent, each step deliberate, leaving deep gouges in the soil. A single misstep, a moment of hesitation, and any mortal nearby would have been torn apart. Even cultivators far below his level would be hard-pressed to survive without discipline and foresight.
He inhaled, letting the morning air fill his lungs. There was no thrill in this—only the sober weight of responsibility. As one of the strongest among the younger generation of the Jin Clan, the eyes of the clan rested on him. To falter was to endanger not only the villagers but also the reputation of the clan, a delicate balance they had nurtured for generations: strength kept in check, noticed by none, but ready to strike when necessary.
Below, four figures emerged from the treeline. Wushuang led the group with the careful poise that belied his sixteen years. His gaze flicked from the ruined village to the hill, acknowledging Rui's presence with a subtle nod. Behind him came Jin Mei, thoughtful and precise, keeping her distance to observe rather than rush. Jin Liang's eager strides carried him a bit too close to Wushuang, his excitement barely tempered. Jin Haon bounced slightly with each step, a mischievous grin on his face, clearly amused by the tense scene. Jin Tao trailed a few paces behind, his brow furrowed in concentration, earning a quiet scolding from Wushuang before he straightened and matched the pace.
Rui allowed himself a faint smile beneath his serious expression. The younger generation—bright, talented, and, in some cases, brash—needed this lesson more than they realized. The demon beast wasn't just a threat to villagers; it was a mirror, reflecting the consequences of overconfidence, haste, and inattention.
"Stay alert," Rui's voice carried easily, firm but not harsh. "Observe its movements before acting. None of you step ahead without reason."
Wushuang's eyes flicked toward him, acknowledging the directive. Tao huffed, muttering under his breath about wanting to get closer. Wushuang's sharp gaze met his. Tao flinched, ducking slightly, before nodding and falling back in line. Haon snickered quietly but adjusted his stance, staff held loosely yet ready.
The demon beast had paused near the center of the village, sniffing the air, muscles coiled like springs beneath its dark, furred hide. Amber eyes glowed faintly through the mist. Even now, Rui could feel the raw power emanating from it. Early-stage, yes—but early-stage in a world where even a middle Body Refiner could barely survive its strength. It could crush houses, smash trees, and obliterate any unprotected mortal. Its claws dug deep furrows in the soil as it turned its head slowly, nostrils flaring.
Rui stepped down from the hill with measured grace, staff in hand. His boots pressed against the soft earth, and he moved without sound, each step deliberate, channeling his spiritual root through the staff. He wasn't rushing to fight; this was a teaching moment as much as it was a mission.
"You'll stay behind me," he said, glancing at Wushuang and the others. "Observe first. Notice the rhythm. The beast reacts instinctively, yes, but every movement leaves a pattern."
Mei's eyes widened as she nodded, fingers tightening around her staff. Liang bounced slightly on his heels, eager but alert, while Haon's grin turned into a serious expression for a brief moment. Tao, still trailing, adjusted his stance, staff held firm, trying not to let his excitement get the better of him.
The beast let out a low growl, and Rui felt it through the air before hearing it with his ears. Its presence was oppressive, primal. Muscles rippled under its fur as it crouched, ready to spring. Rui's heart tightened, a calm pressure settling in his chest. This was no game.
He moved first. His staff swung in a wide arc, tracing a pattern designed to measure the beast's reflexes. The air hummed as qi followed the motion, a faint pressure against the mist. The beast shifted its weight, claws scraping the dirt, narrowly avoiding the tip of the staff. Its amber eyes flared in recognition—not fear, but calculation.
Wushuang whispered to Mei, Liang, and Haon, gesturing with a tilt of his head. "Notice how it reacts. Don't move until it commits."
Rui countered with another strike, faster this time, testing the beast's patience. The beast leapt aside with astonishing speed, a cloud of dust and broken debris marking its movement. Liang yelped, stepping back instinctively, while Mei's eyes tracked every detail. Haon flinched but chuckled, muttering, "It's like it knows me personally."
"Focus," Rui said, voice calm but firm. "Observation first. Then action."
The demon beast charged suddenly, claws raking a nearby cart into splinters. Rui spun, staff following the motion, deflecting its strike and sending the creature off balance. He could see the tension in its limbs, the calculated hesitation between each leap, the instinctual pattern it could not break.
"Now," Rui said, "watch and learn." He shifted his weight, moving with a fluidity that only years of disciplined cultivation could grant. Each strike of his staff forced the beast back slightly, guiding it, testing it, drawing out its movements.
Wushuang leaned forward, eyes sharp, pointing at the openings Rui created. "Tao, Mei, Haon—step in when I signal. Notice the breathing of its movements. Timing, not strength."
Tao hesitated, glancing at Rui, who gave a small nod. Encouraged, Tao stepped forward, swinging cautiously to distract the beast, and quickly retreated under Wushuang's careful supervision. Mei moved with precision, striking at the beast's flank to test reactions. Haon, finally letting go of his nerves, managed a sloppy but effective feint that forced the creature to shift.
Rui adjusted the rhythm, controlling the flow of the fight. He felt every misstep, every hesitation, every burst of strength from the beast. His heart pounded, not with fear, but with absolute focus. He was not merely fighting to kill—it was a lesson in strategy, patience, and discipline, and the younger ones had to see it.
The beast lunged, claws snapping dangerously close to Liang. Rui intercepted with a pivot, the staff a blur, knocking the creature off balance. Liang stumbled back, wide-eyed, and Wushuang caught him, whispering sharply, "Control your feet, control your qi. You're not reckless."
The creature roared, spinning, and Rui felt the raw force against his chest as his qi flared to meet it. Even an Early Stage Demon Beast's raw strength could crush stone or tear through a lightly fortified hut. One careless step from any of the younger ones would have been fatal.
Rui seized the opening he had deliberately created, twisting his staff in a long, arcing strike that knocked the beast off its feet. The creature crashed into the dirt, groaning, finally subdued.
Silence fell. The air hummed faintly, the tension lingering. The younger ones exhaled together, muscles trembling from adrenaline. Mei's eyes sparkled with awe. Liang looked simultaneously exhilarated and terrified. Haon wiped dust from his face, still grinning despite a few bruises. Tao straightened, trying to look unshaken, though Rui could see the respect in his gaze.
"Observe how it reacted," Rui said quietly, walking past them to survey the subdued beast. "Power without thought is meaningless. Strength alone cannot protect you or those you care for."
Wushuang stepped beside him, staff at the ready, eyes sharp. "It's impressive, but predictable once you read the signs." He gave a small smile to the younger ones. "Remember this moment. Life is fragile. Every step, every strike matters."
Rui nodded, watching the younger generation recover. They joked quietly, teasing one another, but he could see the lessons sinking in. Discipline, observation, patience. Strength used carelessly was just as dangerous to its wielder as to its target.
As they began their trek back to the manor, Rui allowed a rare flicker of pride to surface. This was why he bore the weight of expectations: not for glory, not for reputation—but to guide those who would one day walk the path he had chosen. Even Wushuang, sharp and clever, still had lessons to learn. The others had a long way ahead, and each step mattered.
The ruined village receded behind them, but Rui's mind lingered on the destruction. The world was not forgiving. A middle Body Refiner could have died here. Mortals could not have survived for more than seconds. Even an Early Stage Demon Beast required caution, respect, and strategy.
And yet, amidst the destruction, he could see the spark of future greatness in the eyes of the younger generation. Mei, Liang, Haon, Tao—and Wushuang—each carried the potential to surpass their current limits, but only if they respected the lessons, the discipline, and the weight of responsibility that came with strength.
Rui adjusted his staff and glanced back at them, the group laughing quietly as they walked. Even in a world of danger, there could be moments of light.
But he knew the valley, the mist, and the forest beyond held more threats, more tests, waiting for the day when the young ones would have to face them on their own. And when that day came, he would be ready to guide them once more, as he had been taught, as the Jin Clan demanded, and as his dao required.