Two whole days passed quietly.
Fu Yang remained within his room, doing nothing but resting, eating, and meditating in silence. The strain on his body from the last breakthrough had been immense—his tendons still throbbed faintly with each breath, and the dull ache beneath his skin reminded him of the limits he had pushed past.
Master Wan had already sent a servant to bring food and clean the room. The man came and went quietly, careful not to disturb the young cultivator. Outside, the winter wind sighed against the window lattices, carrying the faint scent of frost and ash.
---
On the third morning, Fu Yang finally rose.
He bathed, dressed in his usual black robe, and stepped outside. His breath curled into the cold air as he stretched his limbs, preparing to begin light exercises to loosen his body after long meditation.
But as his gaze swept over the courtyard, a strange stillness greeted him.
Not a single disciple was present.
The training field—usually alive with the sound of swords clashing and shouts echoing—was eerily silent. The snow, thin and crystalline, lay unbroken on the paving stones.
Fu Yang frowned slightly and looked around again. It was impossible. At this hour, disciples of every rank would usually be out refining their forms or meditating in the open air.
He stopped a passing servant and asked,
"Where are all the disciples? Why is the courtyard empty?"
The servant, an older man with gray hair tied loosely behind his head, bowed.
"This humble one does not know, young master. Since morning, they have all been gone. Only Master Wan remained in the inner courtyard."
Fu Yang's eyes narrowed. "Gone?"
Something felt off. Without another word, he turned and walked swiftly toward the courtyard where Master Wan usually resided.
---
The courtyard was warm, lit by the soft crackle of a fire pit. Master Wan sat before it, rubbing his hands together, his aged face relaxed and eyes half-closed as though savoring the heat.
When he noticed Fu Yang's approach, he smiled and waved for him to come closer.
"Ah, Fu Yang," he said warmly. "You're here at last. Sit, sit."
Fu Yang bowed lightly and sat near him. The warmth of the flames spread across his hands, driving away the morning chill.
Master Wan studied him for a moment and asked,
"How are you feeling now? Any discomfort? Speak freely."
Fu Yang replied, his tone calm and respectful.
"Thank you for your concern, Master. My condition is stable now—no major issues remain."
"Good, good." Master Wan nodded approvingly. "You should rest more often. Cultivation must be steady, not rushed. But tell me, what brings you here this early? I told you to rest as much as you want."
Fu Yang hesitated briefly before speaking.
"I came because I noticed something strange. The courtyard is empty. None of the disciples are outside. May I ask where they have gone?"
At that, Master Wan chuckled softly.
"Ah, that." He leaned back slightly, his gaze turning toward the fire. "They've all been sent on a mission to the Beast Forest. Headmaster Xiang himself gave the order."
Fu Yang's eyes sharpened.
"A mission? What kind of mission requires all external disciples to leave?"
Master Wan's expression turned thoughtful.
"That, even I cannot say in detail. Only those participating in the mission are told the specifics. However…" He paused, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. "I hear there are generous rewards to be earned. Why not join them? The Inner Disciples will depart tomorrow. You could accompany them—perhaps make a few friends, broaden your experience."
Fu Yang's gaze lowered slightly.
A mission to the Beast Forest, sudden and secret—there was only one thing that could drive the Academy to act like this.
He already understood.
The frogs.
Those spiritual frogs that had gone missing not long ago, whose value was equal to a fortune for the elders.
Fu Yang's mind moved quickly. They must believe the thief is from the village.
It was a reasonable conclusion. The villagers were simple folk; none could leave easily, for the surrounding lands were filled with danger—beasts, poisonous fogs, and the occasional deadly plants.
Also, if someone had stolen the frogs, they wouldn't dare to hide them in the village for long. The only logical place to hide them was the forest, until a chance to escape appeared.
So the elders had ordered the disciples to search.
But reality was far crueler than their assumption.
Because the one who had stolen the frogs was not some rogue villager, nor a desperate elder.
It was Fu Yang himself.
---
A faint smirk touched the corner of his lips, so brief that it went unnoticed by Master Wan.
(They suspect each other, I suppose…) he thought to himself.
Fu Yang then lowered his head politely.
"I will consider it."
"Good," Master Wan said with a chuckle, stroking his white beard. "The disciples depart at dawn. Rest well tonight."
Fu Yang rose and bowed once more before turning to leave.
---
Meanwhile, in the Beast Forest.
Snow blanketed the ground in uneven mounds, muffling every step the disciples took. Their breaths came out in pale mist, vanishing almost instantly into the frigid air.
At the foot of the Nian Mountain, near a half-buried cave mouth, several disciples worked tirelessly. Their robes were soaked from melted snow, their hands blistered from gripping the cold iron tools they used to dig. Every strike of the shovel against the frozen ground echoed faintly across the forest, swallowed soon after by the whispering wind.
"Careful!" one of them shouted as the edge of a spade struck a buried rock and sent sparks skittering. "If there's anything here, we can't afford to destroy it!"
The others slowed, breathing heavily. The snow had hardened into ice, and digging through it was like cutting through stone. Even so, none dared to complain. The order had come directly from Headmaster Xiang, and disobedience was not something any of them could afford.
A few paces away, other groups of disciples moved cautiously among the trees. They searched beneath old roots and hollow logs, using lanterns to illuminate the dark spaces where shadows gathered. The forest was unnaturally silent—no birds, no beasts, only the distant groan of the wind through the pines.
One of the younger disciples, trembling slightly from both cold and fear, glanced around.
"Senior Brother," he whispered, "why are we even searching here? Do you really think the thief would come this deep into the forest?"
The older disciple beside him kept his eyes on the snow-covered ground.
"Quiet. It's not for us to question. If Headmaster Xiang says the traces lead here, then here is where we dig."
But though his voice was steady, doubt lingered behind his eyes. Even for a cultivator, surviving alone in the Beast Forest was no simple task. The air was laced with poison in some places, and beasts no one wished to encounter.
---
At a distance, two figures stood upon a rocky rise overlooking the cave—Master Xiang, his posture upright and stern, and Master Shen, his cloak whipping in the wind. The firelight of the disciples' torches below cast a dull orange glow across their faces.
Master Xiang's sharp eyes scanned the digging site before him.
"They have been at it since dawn," he said slowly. "Yet nothing. No sign, no trace. Tell me, Shen, do you still believe the frogs are within the mountain?"
Master Shen didn't answer at once. He looked toward the mouth of the cave—half revealed, half swallowed by ice. The darkness within seemed endless, like an open maw waiting to consume anyone foolish enough to enter.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low but firm.
"Yes."
Master Xiang's brows furrowed slightly.
"You are certain?"
"Absolutely," Master Shen replied. "You and I both know what lurks beyond this mountain range. Even we would struggle to cross those cursed valleys alive. The miasma alone could rot flesh from bone within days. Whoever stole those frogs… if he tried to flee, the beasts would have already devoured him."
Master Xiang exhaled softly, the mist from his breath curling in the cold air.
"Then what do you propose?"
Shen's eyes remained fixed on the cave.
"We continue. The thief is clever. Perhaps he hid the frogs deep underground or used some concealment technique to mask their aura."
There was silence between them for a long moment, broken only by the sound of shovels striking frozen earth and the crackle of torches swaying in the wind.
Then Xiang spoke again, his tone quiet but edged with impatience.
"What do you think—who might have stolen them?"
Master Shen understood what Xiang meant but didn't answer. He remained silent.
Xiang chuckled softly but didn't press further.
---
"Hyah! Hyah!"
The digging continued, echoing through the icy valley. But as the sun began to sink behind the peaks, painting the snow in shades of red and gold, the disciples finally laid down their tools.
One by one, they turned back toward the village, their shadows long and weary beneath the dying light.