The journey back to Ashwood Village was quieter than usual.
The afternoon sun filtered through the towering pines, painting shifting patches of light across the narrow forest trail.
Birds had begun singing again, and the forest, which had moments ago been the stage for my first true battle, now seemed almost peaceful.
I walked beside Hunter Milo, my practice spear resting across my shoulder.
Every step reminded me of the fight.
Not because of pain.
Because of the mistakes I had made.
I had won.
But only barely.
If the Emerald Fang Wolf had chosen to continue fighting instead of retreating…
I wasn’t sure I would be standing here.
“You’ve been thinking too much.”
Milo’s voice broke the silence.
I looked over at him.
“Is it that obvious?”
He laughed.
“After every first battle, young hunters wear the same expression.”
“What expression?”
“The one that says, ‘I survived…
but I could have done better.'”
I smiled.
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”
He nodded approvingly.
“Good.”
“A person who believes they’ve already mastered something stops improving.”
The group stopped beside a small stream to refill their water flasks.
Hunter Ellis crouched near the water’s edge and pointed toward several fresh tracks pressed into the soft mud.
“What do you see?”
I stepped closer.
There were hoofprints.
Small.
Neatly spaced.
“Moon Deer?”
Ellis smiled.
“Correct.”
He pointed a little farther downstream.
“And those?”
I frowned.
The second set of tracks looked almost identical.
But there was one important difference.
The ground around them was disturbed.
Broken twigs.
Scattered leaves.
“They were running.”
Ellis nodded.
“Why?”
I looked around the forest.
Then my eyes widened.
“Something was chasing them.”
“Exactly.”
Hunter Daren smiled faintly.
“The forest tells stories.”
“You simply have to learn how to read them.”
I looked at the tracks again.
Until today…
I would have walked right past them.
By the time the hunters reached Ashwood’s gates, the sky had begun turning orange.
Several children rushed forward to greet them.
“Did you catch anything?”
Hunter Bran lifted two rabbits with a proud grin.
“Enough for dinner.”
Cheers erupted immediately.
Watching the children laugh made me realize something.
For them…
The hunters weren’t heroes because they killed monsters.
They were heroes because they always came home.
Grandma Mira was waiting outside the cottage.
The moment she saw me, relief washed over her face.
“So?”
She folded her arms.
“How did your first hunt go?”
Hunter Milo answered before I could.
“He fought an Emerald Fang Wolf.”
Her eyes immediately widened.
“What?”
She turned toward me.
“Are you hurt?”
I quickly shook my head.
“I’m fine.”
Milo chuckled.
“He’ll have a few bruises tomorrow.”
“But nothing serious.”
Grandma Mira let out a long sigh.
“I suppose that’s better than the alternative.”
She gently flicked my forehead.
“Next time…”
“Try fighting something smaller.”
Even I couldn’t hold mine back.
That evening, Ashwood gathered for another shared meal near the central square.
Large iron pots simmered over open fires while villagers shared bread, roasted vegetables, and fresh game brought back by the hunters.
The atmosphere felt lighter than it had in days.
Children laughed as they chased each other around the monument.
Older villagers exchanged stories about past winters.
For the first time since the beast tide…
Hope had returned.
I sat beside Grandma Mira, quietly eating my stew.
As I looked around the gathering, a thought crossed my mind.
These people weren’t powerful cultivators.
They didn’t possess legendary techniques or mystical treasures.
Yet together…
They had created a home worth protecting.
Maybe strength wasn’t measured only by cultivation.
Maybe…
It was also measured by the people who stood beside you.
Just as the sun disappeared beyond the mountains, Elder Rowan rose from his seat.
The cheerful conversations gradually faded.
“I have something to announce.”
The entire square became quiet.
Rowan looked at every familiar face before continuing.
“Three days from now…”
“The annual Autumn Caravan will pass near Ashwood.”
A murmur spread through the villagers.
Merchants.
Medicine.
Tools.
News from the outside world.
The caravan only visited this region once each year.
“For many of you,” Rowan continued, “it will simply be a chance to trade.”
Then his eyes settled on me.
“But for Kael…”
“It may become the first step toward leaving Ashwood.”
My heart skipped a beat.
The village had survived.
My training had begun.
Now…
The outside world was finally coming to me.
The announcement lingered in everyone’s mind long after Elder Rowan sat back down.
The Autumn Caravan.
For the older villagers, it meant fresh tools, warm cloth, medicine, and supplies that Ashwood could not produce on its own.
For the younger children, it meant colorful toys, sweet honey cakes, and stories from distant cities.
For me…
It meant my first glimpse of the world beyond Ashwood.
As the evening meal ended, groups of villagers began discussing what they hoped to trade.
“We’ll need more iron nails this year.”
“I heard merchants from Riverstone City make stronger bows.”
“I just hope someone brings good medicine.”
Their conversations carried a quiet excitement.
Despite its isolation, Ashwood was still connected to the outside world—if only for a few days each year.
The next morning, Elder Rowan called me to his house.
His home was simple but sturdy, built from thick oak logs.
Hunting trophies decorated the walls, while shelves were filled with old maps, journals, and carefully maintained weapons.
He motioned for me to sit.
“I’ve been expecting this day for a long time.”
I looked at him curiously.
“What do you mean?”
Rowan unrolled an old map across the wooden table.
It showed the surrounding region far beyond Ashwood.
“This caravan follows the King’s Road.”
His finger traced a winding route through forests and mountains.
“After leaving here, it travels to Riverstone City, then eventually toward the Azure Sword Pavilion.”
I leaned closer.
“So if I leave with them…”
“You’ll have the safest route available.”
He nodded.
“But don’t mistake ‘safe’ for ‘easy.'”
His finger stopped at a narrow mountain pass.
“This place is called Wolf’s Pass.”
“Bandits have attacked caravans there for decades.”
He pointed farther north.
“And these ruins…”
“No traveler willingly enters them after sunset.”
Every location on the map seemed to hold another danger.
The world outside Ashwood was far larger—and harsher—than I had imagined.
Rowan carefully rolled the map back up.
“I’m not telling you this to frighten you.”
“I’m telling you because preparation saves more lives than courage.”
I silently committed every word to memory.
Later that afternoon, Hunter Milo resumed my training.
This time, however, there were no spears waiting for me.
Instead, he handed me a heavy backpack filled with stones.
“Wear it.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“We’re not practicing today?”
“We are.”
He grinned.
“Strength isn’t only about swinging a weapon.”
For the next two hours, we climbed the hills surrounding Ashwood.
Up rocky paths.
Across fallen logs.
Through shallow streams.
By the end, my legs felt like they were made of lead.
When I finally dropped the backpack, I collapsed onto the grass.
Milo laughed loudly.
“Tired already?”
“Barely…”
“I can…”
“…still breathe.”
“That’s good.”
“Tomorrow I’ll add more stones.”
I groaned dramatically.
The hunters burst into laughter.
As the sun began to set, I walked toward the small hill overlooking the village.
The same hill where I often came to think.
Ashwood stretched peacefully below.
Smoke rose from chimneys.
Children played near the repaired gate.
Grandma Mira watered the small garden beside her cottage.
I realized something.
Every day that passed…
Leaving became harder.
Not because I feared the outside world.
But because I had found a place that finally felt like home.
A warm pulse spread through my chest.
The Origin Core appeared.
Daily Progress Report
Synchronization: 26%
First Origin Meridian: Stable
Body Tempering Progress: Increasing
Current Assessment:
Host has established a solid foundation.
Recommendation:
Continue physical training.
Avoid rushing cultivation.
I smiled.
“For once…”
“We agree.”
Closing the window, I looked toward the distant mountains.
There was no need to hurry.
Every lesson.
Every conversation.
Every day in Ashwood…
Was preparing me for the road ahead.
Just as darkness settled over the forest, Origin Sense reacted.
A faint spiritual aura approached the village from the eastern road.
Not hostile.
Not familiar.
I stood.
Several moments later, the distant sound of wagon wheels echoed through the evening air.
Creak…
Creak…
The guards at the village gate exchanged surprised looks.
Hunter Daren narrowed his eyes.
“The caravan…”
“It’s early.”
Torches slowly appeared between the trees.
One.
Then three.
Then ten.
A line of merchant wagons emerged from the forest, each protected by armed guards wearing dark green cloaks.
At the front rode a middle-aged merchant with streaks of silver in his beard.
He smiled warmly as the gates opened.
“Greetings, Ashwood!”
“I am Garrick of the Golden Road Trading Company.”
“We seek shelter for the night.”
Elder Rowan stepped forward to welcome the unexpected guests.
But as the merchant’s caravan entered the village…
A young woman riding near the last wagon suddenly turned her head.
Her sharp amber eyes met mine from across the square.
For a brief moment…
Neither of us looked away.
Then she frowned ever so slightly.
Almost as if she had sensed something unusual about me.
The Origin Core pulsed once.
Unknown Cultivator Detected.
Cultivation Level:
Higher than Host.
Threat Assessment:
Undetermined.
The young woman gave one final glance in my direction before following the caravan deeper into the village.
Somehow…
I had a feeling our meeting was no coincidence.
And that this unexpected visitor would change the course of my journey.