The carriage rattled as it entered Viper's Gorge. The sunlight here was choked off by high limestone cliffs on either side, casting the road into premature twilight.
Inside, Rian opened his eyes. The air was thick with intent. Ping. Ping. Ping.
Vibrations from the cliff walls. Twelve distinct signatures. Heart rates elevated. Adrenaline spiking. "Ambush in T-minus ten seconds," Rian whispered.
Outside, Bolin, the guard captain, suddenly reigned in his horse. "Hold!" Bolin shouted, his voice feigning alarm. "Roadblock ahead!"
On cue, a boulder rolled down from the cliff, crashing onto the path in front of them. Arrows—intentionally aimed wide—clattered harmlessly against the carriage roof.
"Ambush!" Bolin screamed, drawing his sword but making no move to advance. "There are too many of them! We're overrun!"
Rian watched through the window slat with a bored expression. There were twelve bandits. Bolin had four Iron-Rank guards. They could have cleared this roadblock in two minutes. Instead, Bolin turned his horse around.
"Save yourselves!" Bolin commanded his men. "The Young Master is lost! Retreat to the city and report!"
"Wait!" one of the younger guards hesitated, looking at the carriage. "We can't just leave him—" "Move, idiot!" Bolin kicked the guard's horse. "Unless you want to die for a dead man!"
With a thunder of hooves, the "escort" vanished back down the road, leaving nothing but dust and a staged scene of defeat. They had barely suffered a scratch.
Rian waited until the sound of their hooves faded from his sensory range. Witnesses removed, he thought. Non-disclosure agreement signed.
The bushes rustled. Twelve men emerged from the shadows, wearing ragged leather armor and the distinctive black bandanas of the Shadow-Hawk Bandits. They surrounded the carriage, grinning like wolves circling a trapped rabbit.
The leader, a hulking man with a scar running down his chin, stepped forward. He tapped his axe against the carriage door.
"Come on out, Little Master," the leader sneered. "Your nannies ran away. Be a good boy and hand over the coin bag and that pretty sword, and maybe I'll make it quick."
The carriage door creaked open. Rian stepped out. He didn't look terrified. He didn't look like he was about to beg. He stepped down onto the dirt road, dusted off his robes, and looked at the twelve men with the clinical detachment of a scientist looking at a cage of lab rats.
"Twelve subjects," Rian murmured. "Iron Rank Stages 1 through 3. Varied weapon types. Excellent sample size."
The Bandit Leader frowned. "What are you mumbling about? I said give me the—"
"Question," Rian interrupted, his voice calm. "Do you feel a tingling in your feet?"
"What?"
"The ground," Rian pointed down. "I established a connection ten seconds ago. I'm curious about the latency."
The Leader growled, losing patience. "Kill him! Strip the corpse!"
A bandit to Rian's left, wielding a rusted scimitar, lunged forward. "Die, rich boy!"
Test 1: Tensile Strength vs. Kinetic Force. Rian didn't draw his sword. He didn't even dodge. He simply lifted his right index finger. Thwip.
A single thread, invisible in the dim light, shot out and pulled taut across the bandit's path. The bandit ran full speed into the thread. He expected to break through a piece of string. Instead, the thread acted like a laser cutter.
Squelch. The bandit's head slid off his neck. His body took two more steps before collapsing. The head rolled to the Leader's feet.
Silence slammed into the gorge.
Rian looked at his finger. "Tensile strength exceeds hardened steel. Interesting. No degradation after impact."
The bandits froze. They looked at the headless body, then at the unarmed boy. "What... what was that?" the Leader stammered. "Sorcery?"
"Biology," Rian corrected. "Next."
Test 2: Multi-Targeting and Range. "Get him!" the Leader screamed, backing away. "All of you! Rush him!"
Ten bandits charged. They came from all sides—front, flanks, rear. A chaotic swarm designed to overwhelm a single cultivator.
Rian closed his eyes. He didn't need to see them. He could feel the vibration of every boot hitting the dirt. The grid in his mind lit up with ten red dots.
Range check: 15 meters, Rian calculated. Deployment: Radial Web.
He threw both arms out. Ten threads shot from his ten fingers. They didn't fly straight; they curved, guided by his will and the wind. Each thread found a target. Not a throat this time—Rian wanted to test control. The threads wrapped around ankles, wrists, and weapon hilts.
Contract.
Rian clenched his fists. The ten bandits were yanked violently. Three smashed into each other, skulls cracking. Four were jerked off their feet, dragged across the gravel. Three had their own weapons twisted back against them, stabbing into their shoulders and thighs.
Screams filled the gorge. It wasn't a battle; it was a puppeteer untangling a mess of marionettes.
"Range effective up to 20 meters," Rian noted, ignoring the wailing men. "Control degrades slightly past 18 meters. Need to refine Qi efficiency."
Test 3: The Toxin (Biological Warfare). Only the Leader remained standing. He was shaking, his axe trembling in his hands. He looked at his crew—decimated in seconds by a boy who hadn't moved his feet.
"You... you're a monster," the Leader whispered.
Rian looked at him. "I am a Quartermaster. And you are inventory."
He walked slowly toward the Leader. The Leader swung his axe in a desperate, wide arc. Rian caught the axe handle with a web. He didn't pull; he just stopped it. The massive bandit strained, veins popping, trying to move the weapon. Rian held it in place with one finger.
"Final Test," Rian said softly. "Neurotoxin delivery via Qi infusion."
He sent a pulse of violet energy down the thread connected to the axe. The energy traveled through the wood, into the Leader's hands.
It wasn't a cut. It was contact poison. The Leader's eyes bulged. He opened his mouth to scream, but his jaw locked. The paralysis spread instantly. Hands. Arms. Chest. Legs. He collapsed like a statue, fully conscious but unable to blink.
Rian stood over him. "Effectiveness: Instantaneous upon contact. Duration: Unknown. Lethality: Adjustable."
He looked around the gorge. Twelve bandits. One dead, eleven incapacitated or paralyzed. The air was thick with the grey mist of leaking Qi from the wounded.
Rian took a deep breath. The hunger returned. The Primordial Hunger.
"Field test complete," Rian stated. "Commencing asset recovery."
He sat down on the step of the carriage, surrounded by the groaning men. He raised his hands, and the invisible web he had spun across the entire gorge began to glow with a faint, violet light.
He didn't just take their coins. He didn't just take the Leader's axe. He began to pull the very life force out of them.
The grey mist swirled, thickening into a vortex, funneling into the boy who sat calmly in the eye of the storm.
[DIVINE OBSERVATION LOG: ENTRY #009]
Observer: High God of Vengeance Subject: The Anomaly (Rian) Action: Research & Development
COMMENTARY: I have seen warriors train on wooden dummies. I have seen mages practice on targets. I have never seen a cultivator use a live ambush as a Beta Test.
He didn't fight them. He troubleshot them. He tested his range, his damage output, and his crowd control capabilities, and he recorded the data in his head while men were trying to decapitate him.
The Guard Captain, Bolin, thinks he left a helpless boy to die. He is currently riding back to the Matriarch to report "Mission Accomplished." He has no idea that he didn't leave a victim in that gorge. He left a glitch in the system that is rapidly self-correcting.
Rian is now looting the bodies. He found 30 silver coins. He looks more excited about the 30 silver coins than the fact that he just unlocked a massacre-tier ability. Priorities.
[END LOG]