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    Jin’s legs ached by noon. He’d been chasing Ryn for hours, her quick steps leaving him out of breath. The river still flowed beside them, winding through the hills, but the air felt heavy, like something big was near. His apple sack bumped his side, and the jade around his neck buzzed now and then, a nudge from Hyeon Seo’s words yesterday.


    Ryn didn’t talk much. She’d hum a tune sometimes, sharp and fast, but mostly she walked, eyes on the trees. A small bronze charm hung from her belt, glowing faint. Jin liked the quiet—it gave him time to think. That tiny energy in him, sparked by the jade, was still there. Weak, just a twitch, but it shifted more today, like water breaking through dirt.


    “You’re slow,” Ryn said, glancing back. Her red ribbon flicked as she turned. “Thought you’d fall over by now.”


    “I’m fine,” Jin said, wiping sweat off his face. It was a lie, but he kept up.


    She laughed short. “Fine for a nap, maybe?” Her grin came quick, then faded. Jin liked that—she teased but didn’t push.


    They went on until the river bent around a hill, and the trees opened up. A wobbly wooden bridge stretched over the water, just wide enough for one. An old man sat on a rock across it, legs crossed, fishing pole on his shoulder. His gray hair stuck out wild, and his robe was faded, maybe white or brown once. An empty basket sat next to him.


    Ryn stopped, hand near her charm. “Huh. Didn’t expect that.”


    Jin caught up, panting. “He’s just fishing,” he said. “Right?”


    The old man turned slow, like he just saw them. His eyes were small and bright, cutting through his wrinkled face. “Fishing?” he said, voice rough. “Maybe. What’re you kids doing by my river?”


    Ryn stepped up, chin high. “Passing through. Going west. Got a problem?”


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    He chuckled, low and dry. “West? The valley? Bold kids.” He set the pole down and stood, moving too smooth for someone so old. “Lots head that way. Not many come back.”


    Jin’s gut twisted. “Why?”


    “Trouble,” the old man said, shrugging. “Beasts. Thieves. Things that don’t like nosy kids.” He pointed at Ryn. “You’ve got power. Mist Stage, Level 3, I’d guess.”


    Ryn’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t argue. “Close enough. Who’re you?”


    “Old Tan,” he said, waving a hand. “Been here forever.” He looked at Jin. “You, though—nothing. Empty as a dry well. Why’re you here?”


    Jin’s face burned. “I’m not empty,” he said quiet. The jade buzzed, and Hyeon Seo’s voice whispered, “He’s testing you. Show him.”


    “Show what?” Jin thought, touching the jade under his shirt. “I don’t even know.”


    Old Tan raised an eyebrow. “Talking to yourself, kid? That’s bad out here.”


    Ryn grinned. “He’s weird, but he’s with me. Let us pass, old man.”


    “Not yet,” Old Tan said. He pulled a small black stone from his robe, blue lines running through it. “Want my bridge? Prove you’re worth it. Touch this. Show me.”


    Ryn sighed but took it. The stone flashed twice—blue, then red. Old Tan nodded. “Two roots—wind and fire. Rare, quick stuff. Go on.”


    She tossed it back and crossed the bridge, steps light. Jin froze. He’d heard about roots—how they showed who could cultivate. Most got a messy bunch; a few had less, better odds.


    “Your turn, empty kid,” Old Tan said, holding the stone.


    Jin swallowed and grabbed it. The jade buzzed hard, and Hyeon Seo said, “Relax. Let it out.”


    He closed his eyes, unsure. The stone stayed cold, and Old Tan started to laugh. Then it lit up—green, red, yellow, silver, blue—five weak colors, tangled and fading quick.


    Old Tan stopped laughing. “Five roots,” he said. “Wood, fire, earth, metal, water—all of them. The usual junk. Useless here without a trick.” He leaned in, eyes sharp. “What’s that on your neck?”


    Jin covered the jade fast. “Nothing,” he said too soon.


    The old man smirked. “Sure. Keep it. Cross if you want—just don’t die quick.” He waved them off and sat, grabbing his pole.


    Ryn waited across, arms crossed. “Five roots?” she said as Jin stumbled over. “That’s the weak junk. No wonder you’re nothing.”


    “Better than nothing,” Jin muttered, but it didn’t feel true. Five roots sounded heavy, worthless.


    “Barely,” Ryn said, walking off. “My two roots’ll leave you behind. Stick close, Five-Root—you’ll need me.”


    The bridge creaked as they moved, the river fading out. Jin held the jade, wondering if Hyeon Seo could turn his mess into something—or if he was chasing air.