Lin Tian moved swiftly through the rocky terrain, making his way down Malling Mountain toward the Lin clan compound. His wooden sword tucked into his tattered belt, he ran with a new lightness to his steps that surprised even him. Three months in the cave had changed him in ways he was still discovering.

  "The old man really did a number on me," he muttered, brushing berry stains from his lips. His stomach growled loudly—the handful of berries had merely awakened his hunger rather than satisfied it. "I need real food. Meat. Maybe an entire roasted pig."

  The afternoon sun beat down on his disheveled form as he took a shortcut through a narrow mountain pass. Dense foliage lined the path on both sides, creating shadows that danced with each gust of wind. Perfect ambush territory, Lin Tian realized, though he felt no particular concern. After surviving three months with the Patriarch and facing the Black Crane Mercenaries, he doubted anyone his clan sent would pose much threat.

  He paused for a moment, sensing a subtle shift in the air currents around him. The birds had gone silent. The forest held its breath.

  The attack came without warning.

  Five figures dropped from the trees above, landing in a semi-circle that blocked his forward path. Another four emerged from the undergrowth behind him, effectively boxing him in. Their faces were obscured by black masks that revealed only their eyes—eyes that glinted with killer intent.

  Their leader stepped forward—a tall, broad-shouldered man whose mask featured crimson details that resembled dragon scales. He carried himself with the unmistakable confidence of someone who had taken many lives.

  "Wait there, Lin Tian," the man called out, his voice surprisingly melodic for his intimidating presence. "We are the Great Black Dragon Guild, and we've been tasked with—"

  Before he could finish, Lin Tian's fist was already flying toward his face.

  "Sorry, I'm not in the mood for monologues," Lin Tian said quietly, putting his full weight behind the punch. "My stomach is doing enough talking for both of us."

  The leader blocked the blow with his forearm. The impact sent shockwaves through the air, but contrary to the leader's expectation, it was he who stumbled backward, landing in a defensive stance. His eyes widened slightly above his mask.

  "You're stronger than you look," the leader remarked, a new wariness in his tone.

  Lin Tian simply adjusted his stance, saying nothing. His eyes methodically scanned the nine assassins, categorizing their builds, stances, and the slight variations in their breathing that might reveal their skill levels.

  These assassins don't look like they were hired by the Lin Clan, he thought. They're on the same level as the Black Crane Mercenaries. Interesting. Someone's spent good money on this welcome party.

  The leader's eyes narrowed above his mask. "Kill him!" he commanded with a sharp gesture.

  Three assassins launched forward simultaneously, drawing curved daggers that gleamed with a faint purple sheen—poison, most likely. Lin Tian drew his wooden sword in one fluid motion, meeting the first attacker with a simple sidestep and counterstrike that sent him sprawling into the dirt.

  The second and third came at him from opposite directions. Lin Tian ducked under a slash aimed at his throat, swept his wooden sword in a low arc that caught one assassin at the ankles, then twisted to parry a downward strike from the other. The wooden sword connected with the assassin's wrist with a satisfying crack.

  "Is this really the best the 'Great' Black Dragon Guild can do?" Lin Tian remarked, jumping back to create distance.

  The fallen assassins scrambled to their feet, shock evident in their postures. They glanced at their leader, who made a frustrated gesture. All remaining assassins charged forward, weapons gleaming in the afternoon light.

  Lin Tian sighed, settling deeper into his stance. "I have places to be."

  His wooden sword began to glow with a clear blue qi as he moved through the assassins with surprising speed. Each stroke was precise, economical, and devastatingly effective. The blue energy trailing from his sword left faint afterimages in the air as he weaved between his attackers.

  "When did Lin Tian learn to channel external qi?" one assassin gasped just before Lin Tian's wooden sword caught him across the chest.

  Within moments, seven of the assassins lay groaning on the ground, their weapons scattered around them. Some clutched broken limbs, while others simply lay still, consciousness fled.

  The leader and one remaining assassin stared in disbelief.

  "Impossible," the leader hissed. "You're just the trash of the Lin clan!"

  "I've been working out," Lin Tian replied with a shrug, then launched himself forward with blinding speed.

  The remaining assassin barely had time to raise his weapon before Lin Tian's wooden sword knocked him unconscious with a swift blow to the temple. The leader managed to block Lin Tian's first strike, the impact sending vibrations up both their arms. His second strike caught the leader in the ribs with a sickening crack, and the third—a precise thrust to a pressure point on his shoulder—sent him collapsing to the ground, his arm hanging limp at his side.

  Lin Tian stood over the fallen leader, wooden sword pointed at his throat. "Who sent you?"

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The leader remained defiantly silent, though fear now mingled with the hatred in his eyes.

  Lin Tian studied the man for a moment, considering whether it was worth pressing further. His stomach growled loudly, reminding him of more urgent matters.

  "You might want to hire better assassins next time," Lin Tian suggested, then brought the hilt of his sword down on the man's temple, rendering him unconscious.

  He surveyed the battlefield—nine assassins, all defeated within minutes. Not a single one had managed to land a blow on him. Three months ago, this encounter would have ended very differently.

  "I should thank the Patriarch," Lin Tian muttered as he wiped his wooden sword on the grass. "But I won't. He'd just make training harder."

  His stomach growled again, more insistently this time. The handful of berries from earlier had only awakened his appetite rather than satisfying it.

  "Gods, I'm starving," he complained to the unconscious assassins. "I need real food. Maybe some spirit boar stew. Or a whole roasted chicken. Hell, I'd settle for some decent chicken broth at this point." He kicked a small stone, watching it bounce down the path ahead of him. "Why is the food in this world so damn good? Three months of bitter herbs and cultivation pills really gives you a new appreciation for flavor."

  He cast one final glance at the unconscious assassins. No doubt the Black Dragon Guild would send more skilled assassins once these failed to return. But that was a problem for another day. Right now, his growling stomach demanded attention.

  Lin Tian continued down the mountain path, his wooden sword returned to his belt. As he walked, he pondered the assassins' presence. The Great Black Dragon Guild wasn't cheap to hire—their services usually required at least a few thousand spirit stones. Someone wanted him dead badly enough to make a significant investment.

  "All this attention, and I've only been gone three months," he mused aloud. "I wonder what rumors have been spreading while I was away."

  The Lin compound came into view as the afternoon sun began its descent toward the horizon. The familiar walls and curved rooftops with their jade-green tiles brought an unexpected sense of relief to Lin Tian. After three months in a cave, even this place—where he had been known as nothing but trash—felt welcomingly like home.

  As he approached the main gate, the guards straightened at his approach, recognition dawning on their faces followed quickly by poorly concealed shock.

  "Young Master Lin!" one of them exclaimed. "You've returned!"

  Lin Tian nodded, suppressing a smile at their reactions. He knew what they were seeing—the transformation that three months of hellish training had wrought. Where once stood a soft, pampered young master with dull eyes and slumped shoulders, now stood a lean, muscled cultivator with alert eyes and a confident posture. He was no longer the useless third son they remembered.

  "Open the gate," he commanded, his voice carrying a new authority that seemed to surprise even the guards.

  The guards scrambled to obey, and Lin Tian strode through the courtyard, ignoring the stares of servants and clan members alike. His steps were purposeful, his gaze fixed ahead, though he noted with amusement the whispers that followed in his wake.

  "Is that really Young Master Lin?"

  "He looks... different."

  "Did you see his eyes? There's qi circulation there!"

  "Impossible. He was only in the second stage of Qi Condensation just three months ago."

  "Can you sense his Qi, He's atleast Peak!"

  Lin Tian smiled to himself. Let them talk. Their opinions meant nothing to him now—not after what he'd been through with the Patriarch. His destination was clear—his own quarters, where he hoped to find both food and a bath, preferably in that order.

  As he reached the doorway to his personal courtyard, a familiar figure stepped out to greet him.

  "Young Master!" Lin Feng called out, bowing deeply. "You've returned at last!"

  Lin Tian couldn't help but smile at the sight of his loyal attendant. "Lin Feng. It's good to see you."

  Lin Feng straightened, his eyes widening as he took in Lin Tian's appearance. "Young Master, you look... different."

  "Three months with the Patriarch will do that," Lin Tian replied dryly.

  "The honored Patriarch is known for his... unique training methods," Lin Feng agreed diplomatically.

  Lin Tian nodded. "First thing I need is a shower. Can you prepare it quickly, Lin Feng?"

  "Of course, Young Master!" Lin Feng said, hurrying ahead to make the necessary arrangements. Despite his deference, Lin Tian caught the subtle assessing look in Lin Feng's eyes—a look that suggested Lin Feng was noticing far more than just Lin Tian's improved physique.

  Lin Tian followed Lin Feng into the courtyard, relishing the familiar scents of blossoming plum trees and the sound of water trickling in the small ornamental pond. His stomach growled loudly, prompting a knowing look from Lin Feng.

  "And food, Lin Feng," he called after his attendant. "Lots of it. I'm starving."

  "It will be prepared immediately, Young Master!" Lin Feng's voice floated back from inside the building.

  An hour later, Lin Tian sat on a low stool in his bathing chamber, a towel wrapped around his waist, his long hair dripping water onto the stone floor. The hot bath had washed away days of grime and sweat, and his stomach was pleasantly full from the feast Lin Feng had arranged with impressive speed—roasted duck with sweet plum sauce, steamed fish with ginger, fragrant rice, and a variety of vegetable dishes that Lin Tian had devoured as if they might disappear at any moment.

  Lin Feng moved around him, gathering the discarded, filthy training clothes that Lin Tian had worn for the past three months.

  "These should probably be burned," Lin Feng commented, holding the rags at arm's length.

  "Agreed," Lin Tian said with a chuckle. He ran a hand through his tangled hair, grimacing at the length. "Lin Feng, after my bath, would it be possible for you to perhaps give me a haircut? I can't bear this mess any longer."

  Lin Feng froze, a look of horror crossing his face. "But Young Master! Long hair is the pride of a cultivator! It shows your manliness and—"

  "Okay, okay," Lin Tian cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Can you at least tie it back then?"

  Lin Feng's expression immediately brightened. "Absolutely, Young Master! I can arrange it in the traditional style of the Lin clan. It will look most dignified!"

  Lin Tian nodded, then paused, rubbing at his scruffy jawline. "Also, do you happen to have a razor?"

  Lin Feng's horror returned. "Young Master wishes to shave his face? But the beginnings of a beard are most auspicious for a young cultivator! It signifies—"

  "Lin Feng," Lin Tian interrupted again, more firmly this time. "The beard itches. I want it gone."

  Lin Feng sighed dramatically but bowed in acquiescence. "As Young Master wishes. I will fetch a razor and prepare to arrange your hair."

  As Lin Feng turned to leave, Lin Tian called after him. "Oh, and Lin Feng? Thank you. It's good to be back."

  Lin Feng paused at the doorway, turning back with a smile that seemed to hold more knowledge than it should. "It is good to have you back, Young Master. You seem... changed."

  "The Patriarch's training was effective," Lin Tian replied simply.

  "Indeed," Lin Feng murmured, his eyes lingering on Lin Tian with that same assessing look. "Most effective. The clan will certainly be... interested... in your progress."

  As Lin Feng left to fetch the grooming supplies, Lin Tian found himself wondering, not for the first time, exactly how much his seemingly simple attendant actually knew. Lin Feng had always been more than he appeared, and Lin Tian suspected that the Supreme Peak cultivator who served as his attendant had secrets of his own.

  But those were questions for another time. For now, Lin Tian was content to enjoy the simple pleasures of being clean, well-fed, and back in civilization after three months in a cave with a sadistic old man.

  He ran a hand through his tangled hair again. "Maybe I should have insisted on the haircut after all."