The first light of dawn seeped through the wooden lattice windows, casting soft golden hues across the room. Zhao Ming stirred awake, his body already accustomed to the early hours. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, he sat up and reached for the small satchel beside his bed.


    He unraveled its contents, methodically checking each item. Spare clothes, a flint for fire, dried rations, a short dagger for self-defense, and a few taels of silver tucked away in a hidden pouch—everything was in order.


    His gaze shifted to the medicine pouch given by the enigmatic woman at the shop. Loosening the drawstrings, he examined the dried herbs inside. Some were familiar—ginseng, safflower, dried honeysuckle. But a few were completely unknown to him.


    He pinched a dark green leaf between his fingers, noting its faint medicinal scent. What was its purpose? Why had she included it?


    At that moment, Insight activated. A translucent notification flickered in his vision.


    <blockquote>[Insight Activated]


    Item Identified: Yánluò Leaf


    Effects: Neutralizes common poisons, aids in blood circulation.</blockquote>


    Zhao Ming’s fingers tightened around the leaf. Antidote?


    His thoughts drifted back to the woman’s knowing gaze. Had she foreseen something? Or was this merely a precaution?


    He curled his fingers around the pouch as he recalled her face—sharp yet calm, her expression unreadable. But it wasn’t her words nor her actions that unsettled him most. It was the crimson lotus birthmark just beneath her left eye.


    Zhao Ming exhaled slowly, tying the pouch shut.


    "Who exactly is she?"


    The question lingered in his mind as he fastened his belt and stood. There was no time for hesitation. The journey ahead awaited, and mysteries could always be unraveled in time.


    <hr>


    The courtyard of the Azure Dragon Sect bustled with activity as disciples honed their skills under the morning sun. The rhythmic clash of wooden swords and the sharp echoes of footwork filled the air.


    Murong Xue stood with her arms crossed, her sharp gaze scanning the training grounds before settling on Zhao Ming. “Before we set sail, you should test yourself against our disciples,” she said. “It will sharpen your reflexes.”


    Zhao Ming nodded. He had been training on his own, but a real fight was different. Facing skilled opponents would reveal his weaknesses.


    A senior disciple stepped forward. He was lean, his stance relaxed yet full of confidence. “I’ll be your opponent,” he said, twirling a wooden staff in his hands. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”


    The moment the match began, the disciple moved like the wind. Zhao Ming barely had time to react as the staff blurred toward him. He dodged, but the second strike followed almost instantly, forcing him back. The speed was overwhelming.


    He gritted his teeth. Focus. Watch his rhythm.


    The disciple struck again, but this time, Zhao Ming didn’t just evade—he observed. The way his opponent shifted his weight, the slight pause before each attack… there was a pattern.


    He adjusted his stance, waiting. The next strike came—a downward swing. Zhao Ming sidestepped at the last moment and countered, his palm striking the disciple’s wrist, throwing off his grip. In the next instant, he stepped in and landed a clean strike to the opponent’s chest.


    A hush fell over the watching disciples. Then, murmurs of approval spread among them.


    The senior disciple rubbed his chest, then grinned. “Not bad,” he admitted. “You learn fast.”


    Murong Xue, standing at the edge of the courtyard, smirked slightly. “At least you won’t embarrass yourself on the journey,” she teased.


    Zhao Ming exhaled, feeling a rush of satisfaction. He was improving—but this was only the beginning.


    <hr>


    With the preparations complete, Murong Xue allowed the disciples some free time before their departure. The bustling streets of the coastal city beckoned, filled with the scent of freshly baked pastries, sizzling skewers, and the rhythmic calls of merchants advertising their wares.


    Yet, instead of scattering, a group of female disciples lingered, exchanging knowing glances before turning to Murong Xue with barely contained amusement.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "Senior Sister," one of them grinned, "since we have time, why not take a stroll with Young Master Zhao?"


    Murong Xue arched a brow. "Why would I—"


    "Oh, don’t be shy!" Another disciple giggled. "You’ve been watching over him so diligently. A little walk won’t hurt."


    "We even heard there''s a teahouse with a beautiful sea view. Perfect for—"


    "Enough." Murong Xue sighed, rubbing her temples as the disciples snickered. She glanced at Zhao Ming, who remained unbothered by the commotion.


    "...Fine," she muttered. "Just a walk."


    Satisfied with their victory, the disciples beamed as they watched the two depart together.


    <hr>


    The high-class teahouse stood atop a small hill, overlooking the endless blue expanse of the Beihai Sea. Lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, and the faint sound of a guqin played softly in the background. Inside, wealthy merchants and scholars conversed over fine porcelain cups, their voices mingling with the aroma of premium tea leaves.


    Zhao Ming and Murong Xue were led to a private balcony. As the tea was poured, Murong Xue seemed at ease, gazing out at the horizon, the sunlight catching the faint golden embroidery on her robes.


    Zhao Ming, however, was more focused on the hushed conversation from the table nearby.


    "...A whole ship, wrecked just like that. No survivors."


    "Some say it was a sudden storm, but I tell you—" the sailor’s voice lowered, "—it wasn’t the weather."


    Another scoffed. "A storm? Hah! The truth is worse. Pirates attacked it."


    Zhao Ming subtly shifted in his seat, listening more intently.


    "The Sea Serpent Crew," the sailor continued in a grim tone. "They strike without warning, leaving nothing behind. Slaughtered the entire crew and looted everything."


    "Aren’t they just rumors?"


    "They were rumors until last month. Now, they say the bastards are still lurking in the Beihai Sea, waiting for their next prey."


    "Did they just want gold?"


    "Gold? No. They’re looking for something," the sailor muttered. "Something important. No one knows what it is, but whatever they don’t find, they burn. And whoever stands in their way—" He dragged a finger across his throat, mimicking a slow cut.


    Zhao Ming took a slow sip of tea, his mind sharpening.


    Pirates... and they’re after something.


    If this was true, their voyage might not just be a battle against the sea—but against men far more ruthless.


    <hr>


    After leaving the teahouse, Zhao Ming and Murong Xue made their way through the lively streets, weaving past vendors and townsfolk. Their destination was the medicine shop where Zhao Ming had received the mysterious pouch of herbs.


    Yet, as they arrived, they were met with an unsettling sight.


    The shop was closed.


    Not just closed—but completely abandoned. The wooden shutters were firmly shut, the door locked, and dust had begun to gather on the doorstep as if no one had entered in days.


    Murong Xue frowned. “Are you sure this is the place?”


    Zhao Ming nodded, his eyes scanning the faded signboard above. It was here. I’m certain.


    He stepped forward and knocked. No answer. He tried again—silence. There were no signs of life within.


    Murong Xue ran her fingers along the wooden frame. “This place… it looks like it hasn’t been opened for a long time.”


    That was impossible. He had been here just yesterday.


    His gaze drifted downward, and something caught his attention—an engraving on the doorframe. It was small and subtle, almost unnoticeable, yet deliberate.


    A lotus flower.


    His eyes narrowed. The symbol reminded him of the crimson lotus birthmark on the woman’s face. Was this her mark?


    Just as he was about to touch it, a raspy voice interrupted.


    “You two…”


    They turned to see an old beggar hunched nearby, his tattered robes barely clinging to his thin frame. His milky-white eyes flickered with something close to amusement.


    “That shop appears… and disappears.” The beggar chuckled. “You were lucky to meet her.”


    Zhao Ming and Murong Xue exchanged glances.


    Zhao Ming took a step forward. “You know the woman who owns this shop?”


    The beggar merely grinned, revealing a set of missing teeth. “Hah… who she is, what she is… does it matter?” He cackled before waving them off. “Forget it, young ones. Not everything in this world needs to be understood.”


    And with that, he turned and hobbled away, leaving Zhao Ming with more questions than answers.


    Murong Xue crossed her arms. “It seems we stumbled into something strange.”


    Zhao Ming’s fingers tightened around the medicine pouch at his waist.


    Strange, indeed.


    <hr>


    Still unsettled by the beggar’s cryptic words, Zhao Ming and Murong Xue walked through the city streets, letting the bustling atmosphere push away their lingering thoughts.


    The marketplace was still alive with activity. Merchants called out their wares, enticing customers with promises of the finest silk, rare spices, and fragrant teas. The scent of freshly grilled skewers filled the air, mingling with the aroma of sweet pastries.


    Murong Xue stopped by a stall selling sesame-stuffed rice cakes, her gaze lingering for a moment before she casually glanced at Zhao Ming.


    He sighed. “Just say you want one.”


    She scoffed but didn''t refuse when he handed over a few coins to the vendor. Taking a bite, she gave him a satisfied nod. “You have good taste.”


    Zhao Ming chuckled but said nothing, instead grabbing a skewer of grilled lamb for himself.


    For a while, they simply enjoyed the walk, taking in the sights and sounds of the city one last time before their departure.


    As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the streets, they finally made their way back to the inn.


    Inside, the air was quiet, the other disciples already resting in preparation for the long journey ahead.


    Zhao Ming set down his belongings and sat by the window, gazing at the darkening sky.


    Murong Xue leaned against the doorway. “You should rest. Tomorrow will be a long day.”


    He nodded. “You too.”


    Without another word, she left for her room.


    Zhao Ming lay back on the bed, the faint scent of ink and parchment in the air. Despite his exhaustion, his mind kept circling back to the medicine woman, the pirates, and the unknown dangers waiting beyond the Beihai Sea.


    His grip tightened around the medicine pouch at his waist.


    Whatever awaits… I will be ready.


    With that final thought, he closed his eyes and let sleep take him.