Morning came quietly.
Dew clung to leaves, and the fire had burned down to embers. Lin Chen opened his eyes before anyone else moved. His body still ached, but the pain was controlled—contained. The cold energy within him had settled into a deeper stillness overnight.
He rose without sound.
Han Wu was already awake, sharpening his spear. He glanced up briefly, eyes alert, then nodded.
"You don't sleep deeply," Han Wu said.
"Habit," Lin Chen replied.
Fei groaned from across the camp. "Great. Another paranoid one."
Lin Chen ignored him.
They broke camp efficiently. No wasted motion. No unnecessary talk. These men lived on thin margins.
As they moved, Lin Chen walked slightly behind the group, watching. Not their backs—but their decisions. Who checked corners. Who conserved strength. Who trusted luck.
Only Han Wu passed his silent evaluation.
By noon, the forest thinned, giving way to a dirt road etched with old cart tracks.
"Blackwood Town's two hours ahead," Fei said. "If we don't run into trouble."
Qiao snorted. "We always run into trouble."
Trouble arrived sooner than expected.
Six men stepped onto the road ahead of them, blocking the path. Their clothes were mismatched, weapons crude but plentiful.
Bandits.
Fei cursed under his breath. Han Wu raised a hand, halting the group.
"Easy now," one of the bandits said with a grin. "Toll road."
Lin Chen felt the cold energy shift slightly, responding to intent.
Han Wu spoke calmly. "We're hunters. Not worth the trouble."
The bandit leader's eyes flicked over the group—and lingered on Lin Chen.
"Well look at that," he said. "A cripple."
Fei stiffened.
The leader grinned wider. "You traveling with dead weight now?"
Lin Chen stepped forward.
Han Wu shot him a warning look, but Lin Chen ignored it.
"I won't slow them down," Lin Chen said evenly. "And I'm not worth robbing."
The bandit leader laughed. "Then you won't be worth killing either."
He gestured.
"Take him. Let the rest pass."
Silence followed.
Fei opened his mouth—
"Wait," Han Wu said sharply.
The bandit leader raised an eyebrow.
"He's with us," Han Wu said. "We share profit."
The leader shrugged. "Then share loss."
Lin Chen studied the bandits.
They were confident. Too confident.
Weak people often were, when they held numbers.
Lin Chen exhaled slowly.
"This is my value," he thought.
Not as strength.
As bait.
"I'll go," Lin Chen said.
Fei swore. "You can't be serious."
Han Wu's jaw tightened. "Don't."
Lin Chen turned to him. "If I stay, you all fight. Some of you die."
He looked back at the bandits. "If I go, you don't."
The bandit leader chuckled. "See? Even cripples know their place."
Lin Chen stepped forward.
As he passed Han Wu, he spoke quietly.
"Watch carefully," Lin Chen said. "And don't interfere."
Han Wu's eyes widened slightly.
Then Lin Chen was among them.
The bandit leader reached out—
And Lin Chen moved.
Not fast.
Precise.
His hand clamped onto the man's wrist, compressing strength inward.
Bones shattered silently.
The leader screamed.
Before the others reacted, Lin Chen stepped in, elbow driving into a chest, knee snapping upward. He did not chase. He did not flourish.
He ended.
Three breaths later, four bandits lay broken on the ground. Two fled into the trees, screaming.
Lin Chen stood still, breathing evenly.
Han Wu stared.
Fei's mouth hung open.
Qiao swallowed hard.
Lin Chen looked down at his trembling hands.
Pain bloomed belatedly—sharp, punishing, internal.
He welcomed it.
Because now they understood.
A cripple was only worthlessuntil someone priced him wrong.