“The hunter who watches only his prey will never notice another hunter watching him.”
— Saying of the Poison Tribe
The Black Marsh was peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Even the insects sang more softly than before.
Grandmother Wu stood beside the ancient watchtree.
Its twisted roots had guarded the tribe for generations.
She closed her eyes.
“The forest is restless…”
…
Far beyond the poisoned mountains…
Three riders emerged from the mist.
Their armor bore no crest.
Their cloaks hid their faces.
Yet every movement spoke of experience.
The oldest among them knelt and scooped a handful of dark soil.
“So this is the Black Marsh.”
The youngest frowned.
“I heard no army has ever crossed it.”
The old man smiled.
“Then perhaps we should ask why.”
…
Back in the village…
The children trained beneath the morning sun.
Some practiced with knives.
Others with bows.
Zhao Long stood alone.
In his hands was a simple wooden spear.
It was crooked.
Too short.
Hardly fit for combat.
The other children laughed.
“That stick again?”
“Why don’t you use a real spear?”
Instead…
He thrust.
Again.
And again.
Not quickly.
Perfectly.
Each movement was identical to the last.
Grandmother Wu watched from a distance.
“He does not chase speed…”
“He chases perfection.”
…
Hours later…
She walked toward him.
“Why a spear?”
The boy stopped.
“Because it reaches farther than a sword.”
“It protects those behind me.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“And if it breaks?”
He looked down at the worn wooden shaft.
“Then…”
“I’ll make it stronger.”
The old woman smiled.
“A weapon reflects its owner.”
“Remember that.”
…
As evening fell…
The tribe’s hunters returned.
One was wounded.
An arrow protruded from his shoulder.
“It wasn’t bandits.”
“They carried military bows.”
“They asked strange questions.” Visit g.com for the full chapter.
“What questions?”
“How many people live here?”
“How many paths leave the marsh?”
“Who leads the tribe?”
Silence spread through the council.
Grandmother Wu slowly removed the arrow.
She examined its iron head.
“This was not made by hunters.”
“It was made for war.”
…
That night…
Zhao Long sat outside his home.
The stars stretched endlessly above him.
He remembered another life.
Another sky.
Another world.
“So…”
“It begins.”
The wind carried the distant howl of wolves.
For the first time since his rebirth…
He felt something he had almost forgotten.
Not fear.
Expectation.
Somewhere beyond the mountains…
The wheel of history had begun to turn.
And though Zhao Long did not yet know their names…
The people who would one day become his allies…
His enemies…
His teachers…
And the ones who would betray him…
Were already walking toward the Black Marsh.