As the days dragged on, the unease in the camp thickened like smoke, curling into every corner, settling in their bones. The attacks had grown more frequent. The wolves were learning, pushing, waiting. It wasn’t just hunting anymore. It was something else—something slow and relentless, like a blade pressed to the throat without yet drawing blood. And the villagers could feel it. That creeping certainty that time was running out.

  Fear made strange things of people. Where once there had been distance, there was now quiet conversation, shared firelight, hushed laughter that felt stolen from another life. They clung to these moments, scraps of comfort in the growing dark. And in the stillness between attacks, they began to notice something, Someone.

  “Aaryan’s different,” someone muttered, watching him from the shadows.

  “He talks more,” another murmured, eyes narrowing. “Smiling, even.”

  A scoff. “What, he thinks cracking jokes will make us forget what’s happening?”

  But beneath the derision, there was something else. Something uneasy.

  Guilt.

  “We gave him hell back in the village,” one admitted, voice barely above a whisper. His gaze stayed fixed on Aaryan, watching the way he moved, the way he spoke. “And yet…”

  He didn’t finish the thought. He didn’t have to. They were all thinking the same thing.

  Aaryan wasn’t the village fool anymore. He wasn’t someone to laugh at, to ignore, to dismiss. He had changed. And now, for the first time, they were forced to see it.

  ?? — ? — ??

  The sun had begun its slow descent behind the mountains when Aaryan and his group made their way back to camp. Another hunt. Another failure. No food. No progress. The tension was thick, hanging over them like a storm waiting to break.

  “I want to break their damned necks,” Nayan growled, fists clenching at his sides. “We’ve been out here for over twenty days, and what do we have to show for it? Meanwhile, those cowards in camp don’t even try.”

  Sharan, walking beside him, exhaled slowly. “They’re trying to survive,” he said. “To them, coming back alive is more of a victory than killing the wolves.”

  Aaryan barely heard them. His thoughts were elsewhere, eyes flicking to the treeline ahead. Something felt—

  A low, guttural growl slid through the air.

  The group froze.

  The sound was unmistakable.

  Then came the scream.

  It tore through the air, high and panicked.

  “AAAHHHH!”

  A shadow burst from the underbrush. There was a blur of movement, a sharp cry—and then silence.

  Someone had fallen.

  Aaryan’s heart pounded. His eyes locked onto the beast now standing just a few feet away.

  A wolf.

  Its dark fur was matted with blood, its movements calculated. It wasn’t lunging—not yet. It was watching, waiting. A hunter assessing its prey.

  A long gash ran down its back and hind legs, an old injury that had not yet healed. But it didn’t seem to slow the creature down. If anything, it only made it more dangerous.

  Aaryan exhaled, steadying himself. “It’s wounded,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “But it’s still fast.”

  Something shifted in the periphery of his vision. He turned slightly—and nearly rolled his eyes. The junior chiefs had already darted behind the rocks.

  Cowards.

  A flash of movement—

  Aaryan barely had time to move before the wolf lunged. He threw himself to the side, landing hard on the dirt as claws tore through the space he had just been standing in. He scrambled to his feet, heart hammering in his chest.

  His gaze flickered to the ground. A bag had fallen near him. Without thinking, he snatched it up.

  “Hey! That’s mine!” Sharan barked, but Aaryan had already emptied the contents onto the ground.

  A dagger tumbled out, along with other supplies.

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  Aaryan grabbed it. Dual weapons weren’t his usual style, but he had no choice. He took a steadying breath, adjusting his grip, eyes locked onto the wolf that was already preparing its next attack.

  Behind him, there was movement.

  “Junior chief, please—help us,” a voice called out, shaking.

  Aaryan’s gaze flickered to the side. Three villagers stood there—two men and a boy barely sixteen. Unarmed. Defenceless.

  His jaw tightened.

  “Get behind me,” one of the men ordered, voice firm, arm outstretched as if that alone could shield the boy.

  Aaryan exhaled sharply. The space was too tight, the path too narrow. If they ran, the wolf would cut them down one by one. And if he fought alone...…

  He swallowed hard.

  “I can’t run. There’s nowhere to go.”

  His mind raced. He needed an advantage. Anything. He scanned his surroundings. Trees on one side. A sheer mountain wall on the other. No clear escape. Limited ground. Limited time.

  Then, an idea hit him.

  A bad idea.

  A very bad idea.

  Reckless. Risky. And if it failed—

  His grip tightened around the daggers. No time for doubt.

  He turned to the others, voice low but steady. “We have to work together,” he said. “I have a plan.”

  Wide, uncertain eyes met his. He didn’t wait.

  “Follow my lead.”

  A flicker of hesitation. A shared look. But what other choice did they have? They gave tight, reluctant nods and stepped back. Aaryan turned to the wolf.

  Closer now. Watching. Waiting.

  Its breath was heavy. Its eyes locked onto his. A slow step forward, muscles tensed, teeth glinting in the fading light.

  Aaryan forced his own breathing steady. This wasn’t a standoff he could afford to lose.

  Behind him, one of the villagers shifted. A slight movement, barely noticeable. But the wolf noticed. Its ears twitched. It crouched lower, muscles flexing.

  Now or never.

  Then Aaryan moved.

  Gasps erupted behind him.

  “What’s he doing?!” someone hissed, half-hidden behind a boulder, fear clawing at their throat.

  Aaryan didn’t hear them. Didn’t care.

  His legs drove forward. Faster. Harder.

  The wolf hesitated, thrown by his charge. Just long enough.

  One moment.

  That was all he needed.

  With a sharp twist of his wrist, Aaryan flipped the dagger into a reverse grip. The weight was unfamiliar, but he adjusted, eyes locked on his target. He had to aim carefully—one mistake, and it was over.

  The beast lunged first. Its claws streaked through the air, teeth gleaming . Aaryan dropped low, rolling beneath the beast as its claws slashed through empty air. Dirt kicked up around him. He spun, blade flashing. The wolf twisted mid-air, landing with a snarl, fangs bared. Blood dripped from a shallow cut along its side. But not enough.

  Aaryan’s breath came quick, sharp. He tightened his grip.

  “Now!”

  The villagers screamed. Their voices shattered the air. The wolf flinched, its ears flattened as it recoiled. Aaryan took that opening. He was on it in a heartbeat, his body moving without thought, focused entirely on the kill. He jumped, daggers aimed at the wolf’s throat.

  A blur of fur and air. A sharp crack. Then pain.

  The wolf’s tail swung wide, slamming into Aaryan’s chest. The force of it sent him flying into a tree. His body slammed into the trunk, and everything went dark for a second. His breath left him in one brutal punch of pain. His ribs screamed. Blood pooled in his mouth. He fought to keep his vision clear.

  The wolf was staggering now, its head shaking violently. Blood dripped from its left eye. One of Aaryan’s daggers had struck deep. The beast let out a savage howl of agony.

  The villagers froze. Shock spread across their faces, their eyes wide with disbelief.

  'I actually hit it'… Aaryan’s mind was racing, but his body was slow. His heart pounded in his chest, though his body ached, each breath harder than the last.

  Then, the growl of another wolf, deeper, closer.

  Panic swept through the group. Aaryan, still half-dazed, tried to push himself to his feet, but his body refused to move. His fist clenched around the dagger, his arms stiff, frustration surging. The second wolf stepped forward, its gaze flicking between Aaryan and its injured partner.

  And then, in an unexpected turn, the wolves hesitated. The first, still in pain, backed away, its bloodied face turning toward the underbrush. The second followed. They didn’t advance. Instead, they retreated into the shadows.

  “They’re running!” someone shouted, the words ringing in disbelief.

  Sharan and Nayan cursed under their breath, their fury igniting in the air.

  Aaryan exhaled, the air thick in his lungs. He leaned against the tree, dizzy, worn out. His fingers gripped his remaining dagger. It’s not over, he thought, but he was too tired to feel any triumph.

  Then Nayan turned, his fury shifting focus.

  “How dare you touch our things?!” His voice was venom, harsh as it cut through the air, aimed directly at Aaryan.

  Aaryan barely managed a glare. His body was failing him. His breath ragged. But he wasn’t backing down.

  Before Nayan could move, a voice barked.

  “Don’t touch him!”

  Three villagers stepped forward, their bodies a solid wall between Aaryan and the fury of Nayan.

  “You may be leaders,” one of them said, his tone unyielding, “but you won’t treat him like that. He saved us.”

  Nayan’s face tightened, rage flaring behind his eyes. He was moments away from exploding. But before he could unleash, Aman’s voice cut through, calm and controlled.

  “Enough, Nayan. We’re done here. Get back to camp. We’ve got injured to tend to.”

  With a growl, Nayan turned, his body tense, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. He gestured to the others, and they followed. Sharan lingered, his eyes flicking between Aaryan and the villagers before he too turned to leave.

  The villagers moved in, their hands rough but gentle as they lifted Aaryan. He let them, too exhausted to protest, his legs too weak to hold him. His vision blurred. His mind spun. But he stayed awake. Just a little longer.

  ?? — ? — ??

  Back at the leader’s camp, the tension could be felt even before the first word was spoken.

  Nayan paced, a predator cornered. His fists clenched, jaw tight, voice low but seething. “I’ll kill him. He made a fool of us all. If we don’t handle this, it’s going to cost us more down the line.”

  Sharan, leaning back against a rough-hewn chair, watched him with a half-smirk. “Relax, Nayan. I’ve got a plan.”

  The others shifted, their attention sharpening.

  “We’ll use the violet mist spheres,” Sharan continued, his tone smooth, confident. “Lure the wolves into a confined space. Knock them out. Then we finish them.”

  Nayan frowned, his brow furrowing. “We only have three. And one’s broken. That won’t be enough.”

  Sharan’s smirk widened, cold and calculating. “True. But if someone can lure them in… We’ll have what we need.”

  Nayan’s eyes widened. “You mean—”

  “Yes,” Sharan said, leaning forward, voice dripping with malice. “And if he dies doing it? Well, that’s just bad luck for him.”

  The room went still. A heavy silence pressed down as the others chuckled darkly. A cold laugh slipped out. The air hung thick with the unspoken understanding of what came next.

  https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/108046/destiny-reckoninga-xianxia-cultivation-progression