The price of survival

Chapter 6: The price of survival

The night stretched over the desert, cold and vast, swallowing the warmth of the day. In the bandit camp, most of the men had already settled into uneasy rest, their hands never too far from their weapons. A fire burned low in the center, flickering like a dying breath against the wind.

Inside the largest tent, Han Sheng stood before the leader. He kept his gaze lowered, his fingers curled into fists at his sides. The leader sat on a worn-out chair, his expression unreadable under the dim glow of the lantern.

"She's weak," Han Sheng said, forcing himself to speak steadily. "She won't survive out there alone."

The leader exhaled slowly, tilting his head as if weighing invisible scales in his mind. "And what do you suggest?" His voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge beneath it.

"Let me take care of her," Han Sheng said. "She doesn't have to be in the way. I can watch over her."

The leader leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes piercing through the young bandit. "You? A boy barely stronger than her? And if trouble comes? If someone tries to take her? Will you be able to hold your sword against them?"

Han Sheng hesitated. He knew the truth—he wasn't like the others. He lacked the brute strength, the experience, the ability to command fear. But that didn't mean he was powerless.

"I'll do my best," he said, voice firm but quiet. "She doesn't deserve to be left to die."

A silence stretched between them. The leader's gaze did not waver, but something unreadable flickered in his expression.

Finally, he leaned back, arms crossed. "Fine. Keep her. But she is your responsibility. You will feed her, protect her, and deal with any trouble she brings. If she becomes a burden, I won't hesitate to throw her away."

Han Sheng bowed his head in gratitude. "I understand."

The leader didn't respond. With a flick of his hand, he dismissed him.

The desert night was deepand endless, stretching across the land like an ocean of shadows. A few scattered flames flickered outside, barely lighting the quiet camp. The air was thick with the scent of sand and smoke, carrying an eerie stillness.

Inside the tent, Ling Yue sat curled against the rough fabric, her fingers lightly digging into her arms. Sleep had long abandoned her. The uncertainty of her place in this camp weighed on her like a stone.

Then, the soft rustling of the tent flap made her tense.

A figure stepped inside, moving with the quiet confidence of someone who never needed to announce his presence.

The leader.

He stood tall, his frame casting a long shadow against the tent's fabric. The dim glow from outside traced the hard lines of his face, his sharp eyes unreadable. He didn't speak right away, just looked at her in silence.

Ling Yue's body stiffened. Her instinct screamed at her to be cautious.

Then, without a word, he reached to his belt and pulled out a dagger. The blade caught the faint light, reflecting it in a cold shimmer.

Her breath caught.

Slowly, he extended it toward her.

She hesitated, staring at the weapon, then back at him.

His gaze didn't hold cruelty, but it wasn't gentle either. It was something in between—a strange mixture of distance and something almost like understanding.

"You'll need this," he finally said, his voice steady but quieter than usual, as if the words held weight even he wasn't sure he wanted to give."You doesn't seems to belong here ..outer world is more dangerous than u could imagine."

Ling Yue swallowed.

She reached out, fingers brushing against the hilt before closing around it.

The weapon was lighter than she expected. It fit into her grasp as though it had always been waiting for her to hold it.

But before she could process it fully, his voice cut through the silence again.

"This doesn't mean I'll protect you."

She looked up, startled.

His eyes met hers, unwavering.

"Don't expect Han Sheng to either. He's weak."

There was something different in his tone now. It wasn't just a warning—it was a test.

Ling Yue tightened her grip on the dagger, feeling the coolness of the blade against her skin.

He exhaled softly, almost imperceptibly.

For a brief moment, his eyes flickered—not with kindness, but with something close to recognition. Like he understood something about her that she hadn't even admitted to herself.

Then, just as quickly, the moment passed.

"Survive on your own," he said, before turning to leave.

Ling Yue didn't call after him. She just sat there, staring at the dagger in her hand, feeling the quiet weight of everything unspoken between them.

She had no illusions now.

Mercy in this place came with conditions.

If she wanted to live, she had to be strong enough to carve out that survival herself.

And that, above all, was what the leader wanted her to understand.

At that time ,in this world it was closest to mercy.

The first hints of dawn stretched across the desert sky, casting a muted glow over the land. The air was still heavy with the night's chill, but the distant horizon had begun to warm with hues of deep amber and pale gold.

The camp stirred to life. Tents were being pulled down, supplies packed, and horses prepared. A quiet urgency filled the air—this was not a leisurely departure but a calculated movement, dictated by necessity.

Ling Yue stood at the edge of the shifting scene, watching as the bandits worked efficiently. She clutched the dagger the leader had given her, feeling its weight as a silent reminder of last night's conversation.

Han Sheng approached her, his usual cautious demeanor tinged with something else—perhaps concern, or maybe uncertainty about what lay ahead.

"We're moving out," he said, his voice softer than the noise around them. "It's not safe to stay here any longer."

She nodded, not asking where they were headed. It wasn't her place to question, and she doubted anyone would bother answering if she did.

The leader stood near his horse, overseeing the process. His presence alone was enough to keep order, his silent authority needing no reinforcement. He didn't look at her, nor did he acknowledge her in any way. It was as if last night had never happened.

Ling Yue's fingers curled around the fabric of her sleeve.

She understood now—whatever fleeting moment of mercy he had granted her was not to be mistaken for protection.

If she wanted to survive in this world, she had to walk on her own.

And so, as the camp dismantled itself and the bandits rode forward into the uncertain morning, Ling Yue followed—her steps light, her mind heavy, and her heart caught between fear and resolve.

The bandits traveled in a stretched-out formation, their camels and horses kicking up trails of dust under the dim morning sky. The desert was unforgiving, with waves of heat rising as the sun climbed higher. Their leader rode ahead, silent as always, while Han Sheng stayed closer to Ling Yue, making sure she kept pace.

Days passed in exhaustion. Water was running low. At night, the cold bit through their thin clothing, and during the day, the sun burned their skin. But they kept moving—there was no other choice.

One evening, just as the sky turned amber, a scout returned in haste, barely able to catch his breath. "Soldiers," he warned, voice tight with urgency. "They've found us."

Before they could change course, a group of imperial soldiers rode over the horizon. The leader's face darkened. "Move!" he ordered, and the bandits scattered into the dunes, trying to lose their pursuers in the shifting sands.

Swords clashed as some bandits were forced to fight. Arrows whistled through the air. Ling Yue gripped the dagger the leader had given her, her pulse racing. She wasn't ready for this—how could she be..

In the chaos, the group lost formation. The shifting sands made it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. The sounds of battle faded as Ling Yue found herself running blindly, her heart pounding. When she finally stopped, gasping for breath, she realized she was alone.

The desert stretched endlessly in every direction, and the sun had nearly set. No sign of Han Sheng. No sign of the leader. Just the empty horizon and the cold wind picking up against her skin.