The midday sun hung at its zenith, baking the air until it was scalding hot. The gloomy ancient forest had completely receded behind him, giving way to a desolate, barren expanse that stretched all the way to the horizon. This was precisely the Nameless Stone Wasteland.
There was not a single shade-giving ancient tree; there were only solitary boulders of every shape and size lying silently upon the parched, gravelly earth. A few stunted thornbushes, their leaves small and sharp as needles, struggled to cling to life within the rock crevices. The wind that blew through here no longer carried the verdant moisture of the forest; instead, it was a bone-dry, suffocatingly hot current, whipping up fine sand and dust that struck the face with a burning sting. The azure sky was completely devoid of clouds, yet it brought no sense of clarity; it only served to magnify the sheer vastness and cruelty of this place.
A small, solitary figure walked slowly amidst this sea of stone. It was Tran Kien.
He had been trekking through this wasteland for two days. The clothes on his body had gained a few more tears, and his swarthy skin had darkened even further under the blazing sun. His lips were chapped and cracked, yet his footsteps remained steady and resolute. He did not walk in a straight line; instead, he moved in sweeping arcs, utilizing the shadows of massive boulders to evade the most punishing rays of the midday sun.
The hunt in the ancient forest had drained a considerable amount of his physical and mental stamina, but it had also brought about a metamorphosis within him. His gaze no longer held the greenness of a youth; it had gained the sharpness and preternatural calm of a lone wolf accustomed to fighting for survival. He had learned to trust his own judgment, learned to turn everything in his surroundings into a weapon.
In the Nameless Stone Wasteland, there were no trees for concealment, no complex topography to lay traps. Here, the only things he could rely on were his patience and endurance. Water sources became the most precious commodity. He had been forced to use his blade to dig deep into the bed of a long-dried stream, luckily uncovering a tiny underground spring just sufficient to fill his canteen. For food, there were lightning-fast rock lizards and an astringent, bitter tuber that grew beneath the thornbushes. The cruelty of this place was tempering his will in a completely different manner. If the forest had taught him how to scheme, this wasteland taught him how to face silence and utter isolation; it taught him how to conquer himself.
On the afternoon of the third day, as Tran Kien rested within the alcove of a bizarrely shaped boulder resembling a giant toad, his ears slightly twitched. He heard the clatter of hooves.
He instantly grew vigilant, shrinking his figure to hide deeper within the shadows, his hand already resting upon the hilt of his longblade. He did not know who it was. It could be the Black Dragon Stronghold, or it could be some other danger. In this world, trust was a luxury.
The sound of hooves drew closer. A familiar caravan of horse-drawn carriages gradually emerged in the distance, struggling to traverse the gravelly earth. The banner of the Myriad Treasures Merchant Caravan fluttered in the wind.
They had arrived.
Tran Kien was in no hurry to show himself; he continued to silently observe. He saw Van Tam Thong standing atop a carriage, his anxious gaze sweeping the surroundings. He saw the guards; though exhausted, they still maintained a tight, vigilant formation. He counted their numbers; not a single person was missing. An indescribable sense of warmth welled up in his heart. Only when the caravan drew near did Tran Kien slowly step out from the rock alcove.
"Little Brother Tran!"
The first to spot him was a guard with sharp eyes. He cheered in joy. The entire caravan immediately halted, all eyes converging upon him.
"Hahaha! Good! Excellent! You actually did it!" Van Tam Thong leaped down from the carriage, striding quickly toward Tran Kien, his face unable to conceal his joy and admiration. He slapped Tran Kien heartily on the shoulder, but it felt as though he were slapping a solid rock. The physique of this youth seemed to have become several degrees tougher.
"I did not betray Patriarch Van's trust," Tran Kien smiled faintly, a rare smile that nevertheless illuminated his sun-darkened face.
The guards surged forward, surrounding Tran Kien. They did not say much, but everyone's eyes were filled with gratitude and reverence. They knew that without the youth standing before them, they would likely be nothing but white bones in the Night-Weeping Swamp by now.
That night, they made camp right in the middle of the stone wasteland. The carriages were arranged in a circle, forming a rudimentary defensive wall. A large bonfire was lit, the flickering flames driving away the nocturnal chill of the wasteland. Van Tam Thong brought out his finest jugs of wine and premium dried meat to feast everyone. The atmosphere was incredibly boisterous.
Tran Kien sat by the fire, quietly eating his portion of roasted meat. He gave a brief recount of what had happened after they separated. When they heard how he had single-handedly slain three Black-veined Hounds and laid a scheme to lure a horde of demonic beasts, everyone fell deadly silent, before erupting once more in sheer admiration.
After the meal, as the others gradually drifted to sleep, Van Tam Thong sought out Tran Kien. The old merchant handed him an ancient, yellowed manual.
"What is this?"
"This is a hand-copied manuscript of the 'Hundred Viet Array Primer'," Van Tam Thong said, his voice brimming with solemnity. "It records the fundamental principles and layouts of a few foundational arrays of the ancient Lac Viet people, including the Myriad Li Soaring Crane Array and the Crane-Fairy Grain Wave Array. I originally intended to wait until we reached Thanh Chau City to give this to you, but after what you have demonstrated, I believe now is the most appropriate time."
He looked deep into Tran Kien's eyes. "You possess the intellect to comprehend it, the willpower to cultivate it, and most importantly, you possess the heart to use it righteously. Take it. The path to reviving the legacy of our ancestors cannot rely solely upon a single body-tempering mnemonic."
Tran Kien carefully accepted the manual. His hand trembled slightly. This was not merely a book; it was a legacy, an inheritance. For the first time, the hazy, obscure path ahead of him seemed to become just a bit clearer.
Right at that moment, a night guard suddenly ran over, his expression somewhat strange.
"Patriarch, Little Brother Tran, you two must come and see. Behind that massive boulder over there... there is something very bizarre."
Tran Kien and Van Tam Thong exchanged a glance and immediately stood up. They followed the guard, circling the giant toad-shaped boulder where Tran Kien had rested that afternoon. Under the moonlight, upon a perfectly flat cliff face, they saw ancient carvings, almost completely eroded by the passage of time and the sand-laden winds. They were not words, but figures of people performing bizarre postures, surrounded by concentric circles and the shape of a multi-pointed star in the very center...
Van Tam Thong narrowed his eyes, struggling to make out the blurry carvings. Suddenly, his entire body shuddered, his voice trembling in utter shock:
"This... This is... an etched replica of the Lac Viet Heavenly Cycle Array!"