<div>


    The hills got steep as Jin and Ryn walked on, the river’s sound long gone. The sun burned high, sweat soaking Jin’s shirt. His sandals were shot—one strap missing, the other clinging on. His apple sack hung light after he ate another sour one to quiet his gut.


    <div>


    Ryn moved easy, like the heat didn’t touch her. Her red ribbon flicked in the wind. She carried a small bronze charm on her belt—not a staff—just a trinket, but it hummed faintly. She had two roots—wind and fire—rare, one in a thousand. Old Tan said it made her sharp, and Jin saw it: steady, Mist Stage Level 3 already.


    <div>


    Jin’s five roots were a tangle—wood, fire, earth, metal, water. Old Tan called it trash—most folks here had messy roots like that, stuck low where qi was weak. Single roots rose fast; five roots barely moved. The jade on his neck buzzed soft, warm against his skin. Maybe it’d shift things.


    <div>


    “You’re quiet,” Ryn said, not looking back. “Scared you’re done for?”


    <div>


    Jin kicked a rock. “Just wondering how far this valley is. Lights, vanishings—what’s that mean?”


    <div>


    “Talk,” Ryn said, shrugging. “Glowing mist, odd shadows. Some say it’s a hidden realm—treasures or beasts inside. Some say it’s bad luck. I don’t care. Sounds worth a look.”


    <div>


    “Worth it?” Jin muttered. “You’re nuts.”


    <div>


    “Says the guy with five roots and no qi,” she said, grinning. “You’re a mystery, Five-Root. Old Tan’s right—you need a big push to not die out here.”


    <div>


    The jade pulsed, and Hyeon Seo’s voice slid in, calm. “She’s not wrong. You’ve got me, though. The valley’s near—keep going.”


    <div>


    Jin didn’t answer her—Ryn’d think he was off. He held the jade under his shirt and followed. The trees grew thick, blocking the sun. The air got cool, heavy, with a hum that made his skin itch.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    <div>


    Ryn slowed, eyes sharp. “Feel that?” she said low.


    <div>


    “Yeah,” Jin said, looking around. “What’s it?”


    <div>


    “Qi, maybe. Strong stuff.” She frowned. “Valley’s close. Watch yourself.”


    <div>


    They pushed on, the ground dipping into a wide valley. It spread out—green, rocky, with mist glowing faint in the day. It felt off. The hum shook Jin’s bones, and the jade throbbed like a heartbeat.


    <div>


    A rustle hit the quiet—something big in the trees to their left. Ryn tensed, hand on her charm. “Stay back,” she said.


    <div>


    Jin stepped away, heart thumping. The rustling got close. A shadow moved—long, lean, with yellow eyes. A growl rolled out, rough.


    <div>


    “Beast,” Ryn said, steady. “Mist Stage, Level 1 or 2. Don’t mess it up.”


    <div>


    Jin’s throat locked. He’d never seen a qi beast—wild, not some stray. It stepped out—a wolf, twisted. Black streaks in its fur, jaws too wide, teeth like spikes. Mist drifted off it, curling around its paws.


    <div>


    Ryn moved. She flicked her charm, and wind kicked up—her wind root, fast and thin. A blade of air sliced out, cutting the beast’s side. It snarled, dodging. She flicked again, fire sparking from the charm, a hot streak that burned its flank. The wolf backed off, growling.


    <div>


    Jin stood there, stuck. Ryn’s roots worked smooth—wind and fire through her treasure. She’d end it fast. Then the jade flared hot, and Hyeon Seo snapped, “Move!”


    <div>


    Jin jumped left as a second shadow lunged—a smaller wolf, quick, aiming for him. It missed, claws hitting dirt. He stumbled, banging his arm on a rock, but got up fast.


    <div>


    “Two!” Ryn yelled, turning. She sent wind at the first, pushing it back. The second faced Jin, eyes glowing.


    <div>


    He froze. No qi, no skill—five roots, all junk. The wolf leapt. The jade flashed green, a jolt ripping through him—chest, arms, legs. It was weak, messy, but real. He dodged right, the wolf’s teeth snapping close.


    <div>


    “Push it!” Hyeon Seo said.


    <div>


    Jin didn’t know how. He grabbed the jade, willing that jolt out. A faint green thread shot from his hand—not strong, but it hit the wolf’s face. The beast flinched, confused. Ryn darted in, her charm flashing fire, and a hot burst cooked its side. It dropped, dead.


    <div>


    The first wolf howled and ran off. Ryn stood, breathing hard. “You’re alive,” she said, eyeing Jin. “What was that?”


    <div>


    Jin shook, the jade cooling. That thread—qi? Five roots, moving at last. “Dunno,” he said. “Luck.”


    <div>


    Ryn smirked, wiping her face. “Valley’s got teeth. Let’s move—more might come.”


    <div>


    Jin nodded, picking up his sack. The hum pulled harder, deeper into the valley. Whatever the jade started, it wasn’t stopping.