Six men. All armed. All wearing the black and red of the Iron Claw Gang.
The one in front was bigger than the others. A scar cut from his right ear to his chin. His forearms were wrapped in iron rings — a Body Tempering fighter who had incorporated iron weights into his daily training. Wen Dao could see the muscle distribution. Level Four, minimum.
'Wen Dao,' the man said. 'Yes?'
He knew the name. That was specific.
'What do you want?' Wen Dao said.
'You took something from a dying old man in the forest. The old man had something that belonged to us.' Scarface's eyes went to Wen Dao's chest. 'Give it over, walk away.'
'What was his, is his to give,' Wen Dao said. 'Not yours to take.'
'He's dead. The living make the rules now.'
'That is an interesting theory,' Wen Dao said. 'Do the dead agree?'
The man's eye twitched. He hadn't expected philosophy from a fourteen-year-old in torn clothes.
'Last chance,' Scarface said.
Wen Dao looked at the six men. He looked at the road behind him. He looked at Mei.
He could not fight six Iron Claw members. Level Four leading, the others probably Two and Three. He was Level Two.
He needed to think fast.
'Tell me something,' he said, taking a small step forward. 'Your boss — Bao Shen — does he know you're here?'
A flicker. One of the men in the back exchanged a quick glance with another.
Wen Dao saw it.
'He doesn't, does he,' Wen Dao said calmly. 'This is personal. Shao Wei hurt someone you know. You want the jade for yourself, not for the gang.'
Scarface's face went rigid.
'You talk too much,' he said, and moved.
Wen Dao had planned for this. He was already moving sideways before the man's first step landed. He grabbed Mei's wrist with one hand, shoved Kun at her with the other.
'Into the trees. Right. Now.'
He turned and ran left. Away from them. Loud. Making himself the obvious target.
Three of the six men chased him. The other three hesitated — Scarface was shouting at them to split. Confusion.
Wen Dao ran into the tree line. He was Level Two now. Faster. Not fast enough to outrun cultivators for long, but long enough.
He led them in a wide circle. Pushing through brush, doubling back, using the uneven terrain.
Then he stopped. Pressed against a tree. Let one of them run past him in the dark.
He hit the man from behind — both fists into the kidney area. The man went down with a strangled grunt.
The second man turned, confused. Where did the target go?
Wen Dao was already hitting him. Fast, low, going for the knees first.
The man grabbed him. Strong grip. Lifted.
Wen Dao head-butted him. It hurt both of them but surprised the man enough to loosen the grip. Wen Dao twisted free and ran.
The third chaser was ahead of him now — the circle had brought them around. Wen Dao went straight at him instead of stopping.
The man raised a knife.
Wen Dao hit the ground, slid under his arms on the loose forest floor, came up behind him, and kept running.
He broke out of the trees ahead onto the road north.
Mei and Kun were there. She had taken a route that circled wide. Smart girl.
'Run,' Wen Dao said without stopping.
They ran.
Behind them, shouting. But the three he had sent into the trees were occupied, and Scarface's other three had apparently not pursued — Scarface was clearly regrouping.
They didn't stop running for two miles.
Then Wen Dao stopped. He looked at his right hand.
On the inside of his wrist — where he had struck the first man — a faint marking had appeared in his skin. Like a brand, but blue-white. The shape of a flame.
Elder Shao's inheritance was doing something.
He pressed the jade pendant against the marking.
It flared. Warmth flooded up his arm, through his shoulder, into his chest.
And then he heard it — a voice. Faint. Old. Calm.
'The mark is the first test. You survived. When you next face true mortal danger, it will give you something more.'
Elder Shao's voice. A memory stored in the jade.
Wen Dao stared at his wrist for a long moment.
Then he put his sleeve down and kept walking.