3 days later...

  Chen Mo drew the arrow and released it. The flight was perfect—smooth, instinctive, precise. For a brief, dizzying moment, he could feel years of training compressed into his body, muscle memory and intuition flowing as if he had been shooting every day for a decade.

  The panel glowed faintly, confirming the shift:

  Archery: Major Achievement unlocked

  It was not the maximum, not even close. The real mastery still had to be earned. But the breakthrough gave him new insight, perspective, and confidence—he could now execute shots he would have only dreamed of before.

  Testing his new strength, Chen Mo hunted with care. Every hare, pheasant, and fox fell more reliably, his aim tightened, and his movements felt fluid in a way that began to make his daily gains multiply. By the end of the day, the panel recorded:

  Archery: 25/400

  A respectable start. His haul was good: pheasants, hares, and a fox. He carefully took his fair share, drying and storing the rest for the weekly delivery. Discipline, caution, and patience were still paramount.

  At the village, a few children and adults glanced at him as he returned, curiosity flickering in their eyes. Chen Gou, who had caught a few pheasants himself today, noticed Chen Mo’s success. His smile faded. The seed of resentment stirred quietly within him, though he would not yet acknowledge it.

  Chen Mo, carrying his carefully measured haul, bowed respectfully to the elders he passed and returned to his hut. There, sitting alone, he looked at the panel and contemplated the days ahead: hunting more, refining his skill, and patiently preparing for his visits to Elder Huang and Elder Tie tomorrow.

  The breakthrough had given him power—but it was only the beginning. Discipline and steady progress were still the path forward

  The next day when the Night had settled over the village, the last glow of the sun brushing the mountain peaks. Chen Mo returned from his hunt, his pack heavier than usual with the day’s game. The forest had tested his new skill, and he had emerged confident, though not exhausted.

  He paused outside Elder Huang’s home, bowing slightly as he called softly, “Elder Huang, may I trouble you for a moment?”

  The elder stepped out, smiling warmly. “Chen Mo, come in. You’ve been busy again today. Bring your haul; we’ll share a cup of tea while you rest.”

  Inside the small home, the firelight flickered against the walls lined with herbs and jars. Chen Mo set down his modest bundle of pheasant and hare. Elder Huang gestured for him to sit.

  “You’re growing into a fine hunter,” Huang said, his voice calm and easy, flowing like a stream. “I still remember your father—an excellent hunter himself. It pains me that he left this world so early. But it seems you carry a part of him in your hands.”

  Chen Mo bowed his head slightly, gratitude in his eyes. “I… I hope to live up to his legacy. I will not forget his skill and dedication.”

  Elder Huang chuckled softly. “Modest, as always. But skill and heart go hand in hand. You have both.” He paused, then his eyes twinkled with curiosity. “Tell me, what brings you here tonight? Surely it is not just the hunt.”

  Chen Mo leaned forward, voice low but confident. “I wish to ask you about the county, Elder Huang. I have heard of the markets, the martial halls, and the people who live beyond our mountains. I want to understand more… if I may trouble you.”

  Huang nodded, gesturing to a small tea cup. “Sit, boy. You may trouble me anytime.” He poured the tea and took a slow sip. “The county is a world apart. People there care little for our little village unless something draws their attention. The markets are busy, full of merchants, hunters, and the occasional martial hall—those halls, where people train for extraordinary skills, are places of power and influence. Few of our people will ever enter, and even fewer will thrive there.”

  Chen Mo listened intently, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. “And the martial halls… how do they choose who may enter?”

  “Influence, wealth, connections,” Huang replied smoothly. “Skill alone is rarely enough. Even then, you must impress the masters. And of course, there is always a fee… substantial, far beyond what most here could spare.” He looked at Chen Mo with a soft smile. “Your father could have taught you much if he had lived. I can only offer guidance and advice, but you… you have the eyes and the patience to learn from more than just me.”

  Chen Mo’s mind raced but his tone remained calm. “I understand, Elder Huang. I will work to gather knowledge, experience, and means. And I hope to accompany the chief and others to the county one day, to see more for myself.”

  Huang nodded approvingly. “Patience, Chen Mo. You have grown much, and you have more to learn before venturing too far. But the desire is good—it will drive you forward, if tempered with caution.”

  The conversation flowed like water, gentle yet enlightening. They spoke of the county, of trading practices, and the lives of hunters and merchants beyond the mountains. Chen Mo asked carefully, listened attentively, and nodded when appropriate. By the time he took his leave, the night had deepened, and the village was quiet.

  Elder Huang placed a hand on his shoulder as he left. “Go steadily, Chen Mo. Power is not just skill—it is timing, patience, and understanding. Remember that.”

  Chen Mo bowed deeply once more, then headed back to his hut, thoughts full of strategy and ambition. He had learned much tonight—not just about the county, but about patience, observation, and the paths that lay ahead. He carefully stored his game and dried meat, then finally sat to rest, the flickering firelight painting his determined expression.

  The next day was the same as Night had settled over Chen Mo’s hut. He carefully laid out the day’s game, drying and sorting it after a solid day of hunting. The panel glowed faintly:

  Archery: 60/400

  A small smile touched his lips. The breakthrough had accelerated his progress, and he could already feel the difference in every draw of the bow. Looking at his haul, Chen Mo began calculating quietly. If he maintained this pace, he estimated 800 to 900 coins this week. By the end of the month, after deducting 1,300 coins for the bandit toll and minor expenses, he could save roughly 2 tael of silver—a substantial sum for a single month.

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  Satisfied with the numbers, he rose and moved with care. He selected some fresh meat, wrapped it neatly, and set out for Chen Tie’s yard. His steps were deliberate, ensuring he would not draw unnecessary attention from the other villagers. His goal was simple: to gather information about the county and ask, subtly, if it might be possible to accompany the chief and the adults on the next trip. Broadening his perspective was essential, but he had to be discreet—no one could suspect his real ambitions toward the martial halls.

  Arriving at Chen Tie’s yard, he found the hunter tending to the courtyard fire. Chen Mo bowed respectfully, presenting the fresh meat. “Uncle Tie,” he said politely, “I have some questions about the county. May I trouble you for a moment?”

  Chen Tie looked up, surprised but pleased at Chen Mo’s courtesy. He gestured for him to sit. “Of course, boy. You’ve been working hard; your progress shows. Speak freely.”

  Chen Mo asked carefully about the county’s layout, the markets, and the adults’ trips there. He inquired if it would be possible, on some future occasion, to accompany the chief and other hunters to observe and learn.

  Chen Tie listened, nodding thoughtfully. “I see. There is nothing wrong with learning by watching, but the county is far from our mountains, and there are many dangers. You must go only under guidance. If the chief approves, I will ask him to take you along next time. You are ambitious… but steady, which is good. Your skills are impressive for your age, Chen Mo.”

  From the corner of the yard, Chen Gou watched, already feeling a pang of unease. His small successes today—a few pheasants with his father—felt insignificant compared to Chen Mo’s haul and his subtle confidence. The seed of resentment took root in Chen Gou’s heart, quiet for now, but persistent.

  Chen Mo thanked Chen Tie with a slight bow, careful to maintain respect. He returned to his hut as the night deepened, mind already turning over plans for the next hunt and his continued growth, all while keeping his ambitions carefully hidden from the villagers.

  The next morning Chen Mo joined the hunting team as they moved deeper into the forest as the sun climbed higher. The air was damp, carrying the faint scent of moss and blood. Chen Mo walked slightly apart from the others, bow in hand, steps light and measured. Since his breakthrough, the forest felt different to him. Distances were clearer, angles sharper. His body reacted before thought, as if it had repeated these motions for years.

  Chen Gou, by contrast, was tense. He kept glancing at his father, then at Chen Mo, as if measuring himself against a standard he hadn’t agreed to face. Today’s hunt mattered to him. He wanted to prove that he wasn’t lagging behind.

  The prey revealed itself suddenly, a stag already wounded, bolting through the undergrowth. Chen Tie gave a low signal and the team spread out. Chen Mo instantly read the terrain, the slope of the ground, the likely escape routes. He adjusted his position without a word.

  Chen Gou moved too fast.

  He rushed ahead, trying to cut off the stag, but failed to notice a narrow ravine masked by bushes. The stag veered, slipping past the gap Gou should have sealed. For a brief moment, the hunt teetered on the edge of failure.

  Chen Mo stepped in.

  Two arrows flew in quick succession. One struck the stag’s leg, slowing it. The second pierced cleanly through the chest. The animal collapsed only a few breaths later.

  The forest fell quiet.

  Chen Tie’s brows furrowed as he looked at his son.

  “Gou. You rushed it. You didn’t watch the terrain.”

  The words weren’t shouted, but they cut deep.

  Heat surged into Chen Gou’s face. The failure, the correction, the ease with which Chen Mo had salvaged the hunt—it all crashed together. His pride snapped.

  He turned sharply toward Chen Mo.

  “Don’t act like you’re something special,” he spat. “Anyone could’ve done that with luck! Stop pretending you’re better than us.”

  The words hung in the air, sharp and ugly.

  Chen Mo didn’t respond immediately. He calmly retrieved his arrows, wiped the blood from the shafts, and slung the stag’s body with practiced efficiency. Only then did he glance at Chen Gou, his expression flat.

  “Don’t get in the way,” he said. “Focus on your task.”

  Nothing more.

  No anger. No mockery.

  That restraint stung more than any insult.

  The other hunters exchanged glances but said nothing. They continued securing the prey, binding it, moving on to track smaller game. By the end of the afternoon, the team had taken pheasants and two hares as well.

  Chen Mo took only his fair share.

  Still, when he estimated the value in his mind, he knew this hunt alone contributed heavily toward the week’s total. If things continued at this pace, his weekly haul would easily approach nine hundred coins, a figure once unthinkable for him.

  As they headed back, Chen Gou walked in silence, jaw tight. Every smooth motion Chen Mo made felt like a quiet rebuke. The forest path stretched long, and the resentment inside him hardened.

  That evening, Chen Tie pulled his son aside.

  “You embarrassed yourself today,” he said bluntly. “Rushing, losing focus, lashing out. Apologize—not with words, but by doing better.”

  Chen Gou clenched his fists. He nodded stiffly.

  “I… understand,” he muttered.

  But when he looked toward Chen Mo’s retreating figure, the resentment hadn’t faded. It

  Back in his hut, Chen Mo cleaned his weapons and stored the meat. His body was tired, but his mind was clear. The panel flickered quietly before his eyes:

  Archery: 80 / 400 (Major Achievement)

  Progress was steady.

  Chen Gou’s outburst replayed briefly in his thoughts, then was dismissed.

  Emotions cloud judgment, he noted calmly. If he becomes a hindrance, I’ll deal with it then.

  Until that moment, Chen Mo had no interest in petty rivalries.