The air was heavy with the scent of wet earth.
A thin mist clung to the fields, curling around the rows of sprouting herbs like pale, ghostly fingers.
Han Li crouched low behind a patch of wild bamboo, eyes narrowed.
He'd noticed the disturbance an hour ago — a ripple in the quiet rhythm of the village, the faint crunch of boots on leaf litter where no farmer tread this early.
His instincts had sharpened since awakening the Heavenly Root Dao System, and this… this was no wandering hunter.
The figure moved with the controlled weight of someone who knew how to kill quietly.
Han Li's mind clicked into the old habits of his past life — military caution blended with the patience of a predator.
He adjusted his grip on the hoe in his hand. A simple farming tool, but in the right hands? A spear, a trap trigger, even a skull-breaker.
He inched closer, bare feet silent on the damp soil.
The man was dressed in dark, travel-worn robes, the fabric patched in places yet reinforced at the shoulders.
A blade, short but thick, hung at his hip.
His face was narrow, fox-like, with eyes that scanned the tree line as if weighing every shadow.
Han Li slowed his breathing and slipped closer, just enough to hear the faint murmur of words.
"…rich yin resources… untouched by sect eyes…"
The man's voice was low, conspiratorial, and full of greed.
Han Li's heart tightened.
Yin resources.
He'd seen the term in the Heavenly Root beginner glossary — it didn't just mean medicinal herbs or minerals.
It meant women with high yin energy — rare physiques, spiritual constitutions, or simply youthful vitality in abundance.
The man continued, "A village like this… ripe for harvesting. Just need to pick the flowers before the weeds notice."
Han Li's knuckles whitened around the hoe's handle.
This wasn't idle talk. The way the rogue cultivator's gaze drifted toward the village proper made it clear — this was scouting before a raid.
Han Li leaned forward to get a better angle—
—then froze.
The man had stopped moving. His fox-like eyes narrowed, head turning just slightly… sniffing the air like a hound.
Han Li slid a step back into cover, every muscle coiled.
But then the man's attention shifted — not toward Han Li, but toward the gentle sound of fabric rustling.
From between two rows of tall herbs, Mianhua stepped into view.
She wore a simple linen dress, damp from the morning dew, her sleeves rolled up as she plucked leaves from the tallest stalks.
The sunlight caught in her hair, and even from a distance Han Li could see the faint shimmer of sweat along her collarbone.
The rogue's lips curved in a thin, hungry smile.
Han Li's mind raced.
The man was too close — thirty paces at most.
If he called out, he'd alert Mianhua but also startle the stranger into acting rashly.
No… better to get between them.
The stranger began to move toward her, steps slow and deliberate.
Han Li mirrored him from the side, using the rows of bamboo for cover.
The System pulsed faintly in the back of his mind — a subtle notification:
> [Dangerous Intent Detected. Emotional Resonance Opportunity: High.]
The words stoked his resolve.
If he failed here, it wouldn't just be Mianhua in danger — the whole village could be marked as prey.
He timed his movement to the breeze, stepping when the leaves rustled, halting when they stilled.
He was just two rows away when the stranger finally spoke, his voice oily-smooth:
"Good morning, miss. Quite the garden you have here… I'm surprised a small village like this can grow such… rare blossoms."
Mianhua froze mid-pluck, her eyes narrowing at the tone. "Who are you? You're no trader."
The man chuckled. "Let's just say… I'm a collector. And I've just found something worth adding to my—"
Han Li stepped out from the bamboo, hoe slung casually over his shoulder.
His voice was calm, almost bored:
"She's busy. Best you be on your way."
The man blinked, then smiled — but there was no warmth in it.
"And who are you? Her husband?"
Han Li shrugged. "You could say I look after the field."
The man's hand brushed the hilt of his blade. "Then perhaps you should tend to your row and leave me to mine."
Mianhua's eyes darted between them, catching the tension in the air.
"Han Li…" she whispered.
He tilted his head toward her just slightly. "Go inside. Now."
The tone in his voice left no room for argument.
She hesitated, then slowly backed toward the path leading to the village, never taking her eyes off the stranger.
The rogue's gaze followed her retreat, and Han Li saw the calculation there — the weighing of risk versus reward.
"You're no ordinary farmer," the man finally said.
"And you're no ordinary guest," Han Li replied evenly. "Which means this talk ends here."
For a moment, silence stretched between them, taut as a bowstring.
Then the man's smile widened again, slow and mocking.
"We'll see each other again, 'field keeper.' Villages like this… they can't hide their treasures for long."
He stepped back into the mist, his form blurring as he melted into the trees.
Han Li stayed perfectly still until the faint sound of retreating steps faded completely.
Only then did the System chime in again:
> [Warning: External Cultivator Presence Logged.]
[Side Quest Unlocked: "Defend the Village's Yin Resources"]
Reward: +1 Combat Instinct Skill / Failure Penalty: Yin Resource Loss]
Han Li exhaled slowly, the tension easing just enough for the dull ache in his forearms to set in.
That man hadn't drawn his weapon, but Han Li could feel it — the intent to harm, coiled just beneath the surface.
And worse… he'd gotten a good look at Mianhua.
He started back toward the village, mind already working through possible defenses, traps, and ways to mask yin energy signatures.
But beneath the tactical calculations was something far sharper, far more personal.
The Heavenly Root Dao might thrive on emotional resonance… but some emotions didn't come from desire.
Some came from the simple, primal need to protect what was his.
When he reached the herb garden, Mianhua was waiting just inside the fence, arms crossed tightly.
Her voice was quiet, but the tremor in it betrayed her.
"Who was that man?"
"Trouble," Han Li said simply. "The kind that doesn't knock before entering."
She stepped closer, her eyes searching his face. "And you'll… stop him?"
He met her gaze, letting her see the certainty there. "I will."
For a heartbeat, neither moved.
Then Mianhua's lips curved faintly, relief softening her features.
She reached out, fingers brushing his wrist.
"Good. Because I don't want him — or anyone — near me."
Han Li felt the faint pulse of the System again, like a cat purring in satisfaction:
> [Emotional Resonance +1: Protective Bond Strengthened.]
He didn't tell her about the "yin resources" remark.
No point in worrying her more than necessary.
Instead, he nodded toward the village path. "Go on ahead. I'll finish checking the fields."
As she walked away, her figure swallowed by the mist, Han Li stayed still — listening.
Somewhere, deep in the trees, a crow called.
And Han Li knew without a doubt—the stranger would return.
His eyes scanned the treeline, muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap.
The mist curled around the gnarled willow branches, thick and heavy, twisting like smoke in the cold morning air. For a fleeting moment, a sharp, fox-like grin flickered between the shadows—a cruel promise before vanishing into the forest's depths.
Han Li's breath tightened. The silent threat hung in the air, a chill deeper than the dawn's frost.