Two weeks had passed since they arrived in Huang Jin.
In that time, the forge fires burned a little longer, the coin pouch a little heavier. The stall Ziyan helped run had grown a modest reputation among traders and wandering swordsmen. Each day brought new customers, and each evening, Master Zhao — the gruff old blacksmith with soot-stained hands — shared more than just instructions. He shared stories.
Some were technical, like the way Southern steel folded better under winter fire. Others were less tangible: tales of swords that chose their wielder, of blades that sang with forgotten names.
One, in particular, had stayed with Ziyan.
"They say the Phoenix's Flame only reveals itself when the world is on the brink," Zhao had murmured one night, inspecting a flawed scabbard. "A blade not forged by man, but by the heavens. No one knows where it is now — maybe no one ever did. But if it exists, it won't show itself to a coward."
She had smiled then — not because she believed it, but because something deep in her did.
"Maybe, one day…"
Feiyan, meanwhile, had proven herself again and again. The townsfolk now called her Feiyan the Swift, though she shrugged at the title like a bothersome fly. She returned from her latest job with fifty silver coins and a smug look.
"And the client even gave me a free oilskin cloak," she boasted, sliding it over her shoulders. "Apparently, I 'move like thunder on a clear day.' Whatever that means."
That afternoon, the two sat under the paper lanterns of a local teahouse. The scent of plum wine and roasted chestnuts drifted through the air.
"So," Feiyan said between sips. "Where to next?"
Ziyan leaned back, letting the breeze comb through her hair.
"East. I want to see the ocean. Eat real seafood. Maybe sell blades near a harbor."
Feiyan grinned. "And get scammed by pirates?"
"Only if they're charming."
They both laughed.
A quiet moment passed before Feiyan spoke again, more thoughtful this time.
"What about the weapons boy? Ren Shuye. Are we taking him?"
Ziyan grew quiet. She tapped the side of her teacup.
"I want to. But Master Zhao… he gave us both more than we deserved. Shelter, work, trust. Taking his apprentice without a word would be dishonorable."
That evening, as the forge fires died down and stars bled into the sky, Master Zhao called them into the back courtyard.
He handed Ziyan a cloth-wrapped parcel. Inside was a slender dagger — not ornamental, but carefully made.
"For your journey," he said. "I figured you'd be off soon."
Ziyan bowed, touched.
"You've done too much for us, Master Zhao. We can't repay you—"
"Nonsense," he cut in, waving a hand. "You brought coin to my forge. Customers too. And that boy... Shuye. He's not the same fool I took in months ago. His hammer's steadier now. His eyes sharper. That's because of you."
He looked at both girls.
"You want to take him with you, don't you?"
Feiyan tensed. Ziyan stepped forward, hesitant.
"Only if it's not disrespectful. I—"
"If I kept him here, he'd spend the next ten years as an apprentice. Maybe end up like me — hammering shoes for donkeys and blades for farmers. But he's got something in him. You helped bring that out."
Ziyan looked up, surprised.
"You'll let him go?"
Zhao chuckled.
"I'll push him out, if that's what it takes. But before you go…"
He reached into his robe and pulled out a folded slip of parchment. A name had been inked in deep red calligraphy.
Duan Rulan. A name that rang through trade routes and merchant halls like a blade drawn from silk.
"You want to become serious appraisers and sellers of fine weapons? Seek her out in the Eastern Capital. She's not a smith — she's an empire all on her own. Built from nothing. She knows every sword ever sold for a hundred li. And every fool who tried to cheat her."
Ziyan blinked.
"She's a merchant?"
"Not just a merchant," Zhao said with a grin. "A storm wrapped in silk. If you don't know your steel from tin, she'll throw you out by your ear. But if she sees value in you… she'll make you more dangerous than a thousand swords."
Feiyan raised a brow.
"And she'll welcome us? Just like that?"
"No," Zhao smirked. "She'll test you until your pride crumbles. But if you pass... you'll never have to beg for coin again."
The next morning, Ren Shuye stood at the town gate with nothing but his forge apron, a travel pack, and eyes that flicked nervously between the two girls.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "I'm not… I mean, I'm not strong. Or fast. Or…"
Feiyan rolled her eyes.
"You talk too much."
Ziyan handed him the dagger Zhao had gifted her.
"Then learn to listen. This world doesn't wait for people to feel ready. But if you're willing to walk beside us — we'll teach you what we can."
He took the dagger and nodded, still unsure, but willing.
They didn't recruit him right away — not fully. Not yet. But they let him walk with them. Talk with them. Eat with them.
And in time, they began to trust him. One slow step at a time.
They lingered in town a few more weeks, gathering supplies, training, and final silver for the journey ahead.
And when they left for the Eastern Capital to meet Duan Rulan, they were no longer wanderers scraping coin from the roadside.
They were a team — small, untested, but real.
And the road east?
It would no longer be walked alone.