Wen Dao moved without thinking. He tucked the scroll inside his torn shirt and ran sideways through the trees, away from the voices.
He ran for ten minutes. Then he climbed. A wide tree, thick branches, dark leaves above. He pulled himself up with shaking arms and pressed flat against the trunk.
Two men passed below. Not armored — these wore dark leather and carried crossbows. Scouts.
They didn't look up.
He waited until silence returned. Then he climbed higher and settled into a wide fork between two branches.
He pulled out the scroll.
The Iron Body Scripture. He read by the pale moonlight that filtered through the canopy.
The text was old. Some characters were faded. But the meaning was clear enough.
The body has nine gates. Each gate, when opened, transforms the flesh. The first gate: the Skin Gate. Opened through sustained pain, pressure, and will. Once open, the skin becomes resistant to shallow cuts and bruising. Once all nine gates open, the body is a weapon that needs no sword.
Methods to open the first gate: Strike the forearms against hard surfaces one thousand times each day. Hold stone weights until the muscles fail, then hold them ten seconds more. Submerge in cold water until the skin turns numb, then stay ten minutes more.
Simple. Brutal. Clear.
Wen Dao looked at his pale forearms. He pressed one against the rough bark of the branch. Hard. Then harder. Pain flared immediately.
He pressed again.
Again.
He would not be helpless. Not in this world. Not in any world.
He trained until his arms were red and throbbing. Then exhaustion hit like a hammer and he slept in the tree.
He woke to dawn light and the sound of weeping.
He looked down.
The two children — Mei and Kun — sat at the base of his tree. Mei had her arms around the small boy, Kun. Both were filthy. Mei had a cut on her cheek.
'You followed me?' Wen Dao said from above.
Mei looked up. Her eyes were red but her jaw was set. 'You saved us. We have nowhere else to go.'
He climbed down.
He looked at them both. They were thin. Scared. But alive.
'Your family?' he asked Mei.
She looked at the direction of the village. Said nothing.
He understood.
'Your village is gone,' he said, not to be cruel but because they needed to hear it clearly. Pretending would only delay their grief and slow their survival.
Mei's eyes filled but she nodded.
'Then we move,' he said. 'Staying near a burned village is dangerous. The soldiers will sweep the area.'
'Where do we go?' Kun asked. His voice was tiny.
Wen Dao thought for a moment.
He had the body's memories. Faint. The boy Wen Dao had been an orphan himself, raised by an old village healer who had recently died. The nearest town was Iron Fang Town, two days southeast through Blackthorn Forest.
'East,' he said. 'Then south. Two days walking.'
He looked at their feet. No shoes on the small boy. He pulled off his own outer wrap and tore it into strips.
'Give me your feet,' he told Kun.
While he bound the boy's feet, Mei watched him quietly.
'You talk strange,' she said.
'Strange how?'
'Like you're thinking about something else while you talk.'
He looked at her. Sharp girl.
'I am,' he said simply.
He stood. He tested the scroll in his shirt. Secure.
They moved east.
By midday they had traveled three miles. Wen Dao had used every minute to train — striking his forearms against trees as they passed, carrying Kun on his back for an hour against the body's screaming protest.
Then a sound from ahead stopped him cold.
Low. Rhythmic. Breathing.
Not human.
Through the trees, a shape moved. Large. Black fur. Four legs. It turned its head and two yellow eyes locked onto them.
A Shadow Claw Bear. The body's memory supplied the name without being asked. Blackthorn Forest was full of them. They were fast. Territorial. They ate cultivators for sport.
It was fifty feet away. And it had already scented them.
It charged.