“A poisonous plant grows only where the soil allows it.
A great leader changes the soil itself.”
– Old saying of the Poison Tribe
The Trial of the Black Marsh had ended.
Nine children returned.
Three did not.
No one spoke their names.
The Poison Tribe honored the living by remembering the dead in silence.
…
That evening…
The tribe gathered around a great fire.
Grandmother Wu stood before the survivors.
“You have taken your first step.”
“But a single step does not complete a journey.”
One by one, she handed each child a black serpent token.
When Zhao Long accepted his…
He did not smile.
Instead, he looked toward the mountains beyond the village.
As if searching for something far away.
Grandmother Wu noticed.
“You are wondering what lies beyond our forests.”
He met her gaze.
“Yes.”
The other children laughed.
“What is there to wonder about?”
“Only fools leave the Black Marsh.”
“Our tribe has everything.”
Zhao Long remained silent.
Everything?
No.
His previous life had taught him that every kingdom believed it possessed everything…
Until someone stronger arrived.
…
The next morning…
Grandmother Wu summoned Zhao Long alone.
She led him to the tallest cliff overlooking the endless forest.
“What do you see?”
He answered without hesitation.
“Rivers.”
“Mist.”
She nodded.
“And beyond them?”
He closed his eyes.
“I don’t know.”
She smiled.
“Good.”
“The day a person believes he already knows everything…”
“He stops learning.”
…
Days passed.
Training became harder.
The children learned to identify hundreds of poisonous plants.
To brew antidotes.
To walk across swamps without leaving footprints.
To disappear among shadows.
Most memorized what they were taught.
Zhao Long asked questions.
“Why does this poison grow only here?”
“What causes that mushroom to glow?”
“Why do snakes avoid this flower?”
Some elders frowned.
“Too many questions.”
Grandmother Wu simply laughed.
“A child who asks today…”
“May answer the world tomorrow.”
…
One afternoon…
The hunters returned with alarming news.
They had found strangers.
Not merchants.
Not travelers.
Scouts.
“They wore iron armor.”
“They counted the mountain paths.”
The elders fell silent.
For generations…
No outsider had dared enter the Black Marsh.
One elder struck the ground with his staff.
“If they return, we will kill them.”
Many nodded.
Only Zhao Long spoke.
“If you kill scouts…”
“They will send soldiers.”
The hall became quiet.
An elder frowned.
“What would a child know of war?”
Zhao Long lowered his head respectfully.
“Enough to know that armies never walk without reason.”
The elders exchanged uneasy glances.
Grandmother Wu said nothing.
But for the first time…
She wondered whether Zhao Long’s knowledge came only from intelligence…
Or from something far older.
…
That night…
Zhao Long climbed onto the roof of his small house.
The moon shone over the endless forest.
Beyond those mountains…
There were kingdoms.
Cities.
Generals.
Emperors.
And wars that had not yet reached the Poison Tribe.
He clenched the black serpent token in his hand.
“If danger is coming…”
“I won’t wait for it.”
The wind stirred the trees below.
For just a moment…
It seemed as though the forest itself had heard the vow of a six-year-old child.
And far beyond the Black Marsh…
The first threads of destiny had already begun to move.