Jiang led Han away from the main yard and the bustle of laughter and conversation, wandering almost aimlessly in search of a quiet place to talk. The noise faded quickly, replaced by the low murmur of the wind and the distant, mournful howl of a wolf – a sound that still made the hairs on Jiang's neck prickle despite knowing they weren't much of a threat any more.

He didn't know where exactly his feet were taking him, but Han seemed content enough to follow without question, so he didn't slow. Before long, they passed through the crude timber gate, slowing a little as they stepped outside the meagre shelter of the village wall.

The night was sharp and achingly clear. Stars glittered like scattered frost in the dark sweep of the sky, and the moon, a thin sliver, offered little in the way of light. Jiang pulled his cloak tighter, though the cold itself was more a distant pressure than a biting discomfort. Han, beside him, hunched his shoulders deeper into his own thick furs, rubbing his gloved hands together briskly, his breath pluming white in the still air.

It wasn't until Han spoke that Jiang realised he'd instinctively started angling towards the treeline, a familiar instinct to seek the muted quiet of the forest edge for a private conversation.

"Getting a bit dark out here, eh?" Han said, his voice a low rumble. He squinted into the gloom. "If we go much further, I'm going to need a lantern to see where I'm putting my feet. And in case you were hoping to take me someplace people can't hear my screams, I should warn you I'm very loud."

Jiang ignored the morbid attempt at humour as he paused, looking around. It was dark, certainly, but he could still make out the individual trunks of the nearest trees, the subtle dip and rise of the snow-covered ground. He hadn't realised until Han drew his attention to it how much his night vision had improved since becoming a cultivator, another small, almost unnoticed shift in the way he perceived the world.

Han, misinterpreting his silence, grunted. "Right then." He stopped a few paces from the nearest gnarled pine, the village wall a dark line behind them. He turned, his weathered face shadowed, and let out a long, slow sigh, the sound carrying a weight that hadn't been there moments before. "Going to be one of those conversations, is it, Jiang?"

The use of his name, rather than 'kid' or 'lad,' was a subtle shift, a concession of sorts that didn't escape Jiang's notice.

"I… I've been noticing a few things lately," Jiang began before switching tactics to something a little less confrontational. "Or rather, I was wondering about how normal caravans do things. From what my father told me when I was younger, your caravan… it's better guarded than it should be for carrying textiles and pottery. Eight men, good steel. And most of the drivers have crossbows - even I know that's expensive. Then there's you travelling this deep into winter. It's risky. Not much profit in it if you're just hauling regular goods."

Whoops. He'd slipped back into a confrontational tone. Oh, well.

"I also noticed you didn't seem too surprised to see Kaelen," he continued. In for a copper, in for a gold, as the saying went. "Not to mention that you knew him in the first place."

Han was silent for a long moment, the only sound the faint rustle of the wind through the bare branches above. Then, he scrubbed a hand over his beard. "There wasn't actually a question in there," the man pointed out before waving a hand to forestall a response. "Doesn't matter, I'spose. I know what you're getting at."

Han shifted his weight, the movement making the leather of his jerkin creak softly in the quiet. He blew out another plume of white breath, watching it dissipate into the frigid air before continuing. "You're a sharp lad, Jiang, I'll give you that. Sharper than most give you credit for, I reckon."

He paused, then seemed to come to a decision. "Alright. No, this ain't your typical run for me. The cargo… well, some of it's a bit more valuable than bolts of cloth or clay pots. We're hauling that stuff too, don't get me wrong, but that's more of a… disguise, really. The actual cargo I'm carrying is valuable enough that I figured it was worth having the extra steel on hand, and worth the risk of a winter passage when fewer eyes are on the roads." He gestured vaguely towards the dark shapes of the wagons behind them, within the village walls. "Crossbows ain't cheap, you're right. Neither are good men. But losing a shipment like this, or worse, your own hide, costs a damn sight more."

Jiang listened, saying nothing. It was an admission, of sorts, but still frustratingly vague. Valuable cargo. What kind? Why the secrecy?

Han seemed to sense his unspoken questions. "And Kaelen…" He spat the name like it was something foul. "Aye, I know the bastard. Or, heh, knew him, I suppose. He's the sort of scum that surfaces when there's coin to be made from other people's misery. A hired blade, a message bearer for those who don't like to get their own hands dirty. The kind of man you hear whispers about in the shadier taverns in Qinghe or down in the river towns. Didn't expect to see him specifically, not out here. But trouble? Aye, I was braced for trouble. Just not quite his particular flavour of it."

He kicked at a loose clump of snow with the toe of his boot. "Truth is, Jiang, this road, any road… it's always a gamble. You weigh the risks, you make your preparations, you say a prayer to whatever gods you fancy, and you roll the dice. Sometimes, they come up in your favour; sometimes, they don't. This time, they came up snakes, and in this case, you were there to help kick 'em back into their hole. For that, I'm grateful, and so is every soul in that caravan."

"But you still didn't tell us," Jiang said, the quiet accusation hanging in the cold air. "You didn't tell your guards the full risk. You didn't tell me."

He knew they weren't close, exactly, but it still hurt a little. Han had been… helpful. Had talked him through his first stumbling interactions with the rest of the caravan, explained why it was important to do in the first place. He'd thought…

He didn't know what he'd thought.

Han met his gaze, his own eyes shadowed but steady. "And what would you have had me do, Jiang? Announce to every man, woman, and child in the caravan that we might be carrying something worth drawing serious attention? Spread fear before there was even a shadow on the road? Some things a caravan master keeps close to his chest, for the good of the venture and for the good of the people who trust him to get them where they're going."

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He sighed, the sound weary. "Maybe I was wrong not to be more open with you, especially after you accepted my offer to travel with us. You've proven yourself more than capable, and you've got a right to know what you're walking into, more so than most considering you'd be facing the lion's share of the danger." He paused. "But you've got to understand, Jiang, I've got my own burdens, my own reasons for the path I take. Same as you, I wager."

He looked at Jiang then, a searching sort of look. "You're a cultivator. You move in a world most of us only hear stories about. You're clearly heading north for reasons of your own, reasons you haven't seen fit to share with a jumped-up hauler like me, and that's your right. But if you expect folk to lay all their cards on the table for you, you might need to show a bit of your own hand first. Trust, like coin, is earned, and it usually flows both ways, eh?"

Han clapped a hand on Jiang's shoulder, his grip surprisingly firm. "You're a good lad, Jiang. Got a solid head on your shoulders, even if you're still figuring out how to use it around people. And you fight like a cornered badger when it counts. But you can't expect the world to arrange itself to your liking, or for everyone to fall in line with what you think is important, especially if you ain't telling them what that is. You need to decide what you want from the folks around you, and what you're willing to give in return. It ain't always a clean trade, but nothing worthwhile ever is."

Han let the words hang in the crisp night air for a moment, his gaze steady on Jiang. Then, he straightened up a bit, a more business-like glint entering his eyes, though the friendly weariness remained. "Truth be told, Jiang, I was hoping you might stick with me further than the gates of Qinghe, at least until I'm able to reach the drop-off point for the package. Having someone of your… capabilities… around is a comfort, especially with how keen certain people are to get a hold of it." He didn't elaborate on the cargo, and Jiang didn't ask; he was beginning to understand that some questions were best left unvoiced unless the answer was freely offered.

"I'm not just asking you this a favour, though," Han continued, shifting his weight. "You mentioned you were looking for some people up that way. Qinghe's a big city, full of shadows and whispers. Knowing where to start looking and who to ask… that's half the battle. I know a fellow there. An information broker of sorts. Deals in rumours, secrets, the kind of knowledge that doesn't often see the light of day. If anyone can point you in the right direction for finding who you're after, it'd be him. I could introduce you, smooth the way a bit. He owes me a favour or two."

Jiang processed that, the earlier discomfort about his social standing momentarily overshadowed by a flare of focused intensity. An information broker. That... was a more concrete lead than anything he'd managed to glean from the Sect or the scattered tavern gossip. A direct path.

The transactional nature of Han's offer wasn't lost on him. Jiang's presence offered a measure of security for Han's valuable, and clearly dangerous, cargo. In return, Han was offering a key that might unlock the next stage of Jiang's own desperate search. It was a trade, plain and simple. And while a part of Jiang still felt a vague sense of unease at this new, clearer definition of his relationship with the caravan master – the easy camaraderie now tinged with a more explicit understanding of mutual benefit – another, more practical part of him seized on the opportunity.

Han seemed to read the internal debate on his face. "Look, we'll be leaving before dawn tomorrow. Should make Qinghe in a couple of days if the weather holds and no more bastards like Kaelen decide to try their luck." He clapped Jiang on the shoulder again, a gesture that felt more like a friendly seal on a business arrangement than the earlier, more casual camaraderie. "You let me know before we get into the city if you're interested in that introduction, or if you'd rather split off on your own once we're closer. No hard feelings either way, Jiang. Every man walks his own path."

With that, Han turned and ambled back towards the low wall of the village, leaving Jiang standing alone at the edge of the silent, snow-dusted forest.

The wind whispered through the pine needles, cold and clean. Jiang watched Han's retreating figure, a strange sense of being unmoored settling over him. Han was right. He needed to decide what he wanted from people and what he was willing to give in turn. The thought was… complicated. Exhausting, even. He'd spent so much of his life focused on the straightforward necessities of survival – hunting, providing, protecting – that navigating the shifting currents of human relationships felt like trying to track a deer through a blizzard by scent alone.

But the offer of an introduction to an information broker… that was a solid, tangible thing. A step he could take. A direction.

Jiang took a deep breath, the icy air a welcome sharpness in his lungs. He could feel the familiar urge to push aside the uncomfortable, messy feelings about social interactions to focus instead on the concrete, the actionable. He was good at that. He'd always been practical.

The complexities of trust, of give and take, of how others perceived him – he could deal with all that later. Right now, he had a goal. He had a lead. And for the first time in a long while, the path ahead, while still shrouded in shadow, felt a little less like stumbling in the dark.

— — —

Zhang Shuren surveyed the churned snow and bloodstains with a dispassionate air. The aftermath of a messy, desperate skirmish. The bodies of several wolves lay strewn about the edges of the path where they'd been tossed to ensure nothing blocked the roads. A flurry of carrion birds had risen into the air as he drew close, the irritating cawing of ravens exacerbating the low-level headache he'd had for the last few days.

This journey was, Zhang reflected with a familiar tightening in his jaw, an entirely irritating expenditure of his time. Elder Yan's directive had been clear, if unspoken: retrieve the errant disciple, make an example, and remind everyone of the consequences of embarrassing the Sect – and, by extension, Elder Yan himself, by reminding the other Elders and disciples of Gao Leng's own flight from the Sect, years ago.

Zhang acknowledged the irony that his own subtle machinations, designed to expose Jiang's unsuitability, had likely precipitated the boy's foolish flight in the first place. A neat, if irritating, circle.

Jiang was likely still a few days ahead, even with Zhang's superior pace. But he would be caught. It was inevitable. Ultimately, he anticipated a swift, clean retrieval – the differences in their cultivation would allow nothing else. Dragging Jiang Tian back to the Sect wouldn't be pleasant, for either of them, but Zhang was rather looking forward to working out some of the lingering frustration from weeks of tedious Sect politics and the galling necessity of having to hold himself back. The boy needed a lesson in consequence, and Zhang was more than willing to be the instructor.

He was about to move on, to pick up the trail once more, when a sudden pressure slammed into his senses. Zhang froze, head snapping up, his irritation vanishing like smoke in a gale, replaced by sharp, predatory alertness. Miles away, deep within the northern wilderness, a ripple of power flared – raw, untamed, and potent. A spirit beast, and a significant one. Far more significant than anything this provincial backwater should host - how it had avoided the Sect's attention, he had no idea.

A slow, genuine smile spread across Zhang Shuren's lips, the first he'd felt in weeks. The tedious pursuit of a runaway outer disciple could wait. This… this was an opportunity. A chance to truly stretch his abilities, to cut loose in a way the stifling confines of Sect etiquette rarely allowed.

The air around him shimmered for a heartbeat. Then, with a sound like tearing silk, Zhang Shuren vanished. The only sign he'd ever stood on that bloodied patch of snow was a spiderweb of fine cracks spreading from the imprints where his boots had been, the ground itself fractured by the force of his departure.

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