The ravine's shadow swallowed the midday sun, its jagged walls a silent cage around the Ye Clan's valley. Moss clung to cracked stone, air thick with damp earth and a pulsing qi hum—sharp, alive, like a vein torn open. Lin Feng stood before the ruined arch from days ago, its runes glowing brighter now, their jagged lines mirroring the seal's fracture within him. The crack from last night—a fissure splitting the arch's base—spilled faint silver light, qi swirling like mist, whispering secrets older than the pines. His muddy-brown eyes narrowed, Heaven's Pulse Sense catching a tremor beneath—something waking, tied to Yan Huo's name, the betrayer's echo from his visions. The seal roared, golden qi flooding his frail frame, pain forging Zhan Tian's soul into a blade not yet drawn.
Ye Ling crouched nearby, her rusty dagger etching dirt, qi flickering stronger—Body Tempering 1, Starveil Root's flame now a steady spark. Her braid hung loose, eyes darting to the arch's glow. "That hum," she said, voice low, "it's louder. You feel it, don't you?"
"Deeper," Lin Feng replied, stepping closer, his tone clipped. "It's calling."
Ye Chen limped up, sling tucked in his belt, a ward-etched pebble rolling in his palm. His qi stirred—faint, but sharper than yesterday, a flicker craving form. "Calling what?" he asked, blunt, gaze flicking to the crack. "Us, or trouble?"
"Both," Lin Feng said, kneeling by the fissure. His fingers brushed the stone, qi spiking—pain lanced his chest, the seal's fracture splitting wider, a golden tide straining his bones. A vision flickered: Yan Huo's shadow, jade eyes burning, a cracked seal in hand, whispering, "Tian Xu fell, you rise." It faded, leaving a pulse—Body Tempering 2, solid but raw, not enough for what stirred below.
Ye Ling's dagger stilled, her qi flaring—a restless spark. "You're glowing again," she said, half-accusing. "That's no trick. What's down there?"
"Answers," Lin Feng said, standing. "We dig. Now."
Ye Qing's voice called from the woods—gruff, urgent. "Feng! Tracks—fresh, north!" He emerged, spear gleaming, Ye Hua trailing with Ye Jun and Ye Mei, their sticks clutched tight. The clan's gate stood firm behind, traps reset after Black Claw's rout, but smoke lingered on the wind—not theirs, sharper, from the river.
Lin Feng's Pulse Sense flared—boots, three pairs, qi at Body Tempering 6, circling the ravine's rim. Iron Fang scouts, per the sect's orders last night. "Trouble's here," he said, voice steel. "Gate's safe. This isn't."
Ye Ling grinned, dagger spinning. "Let's gut 'em."
"Focus," Lin Feng snapped, pointing to the arch. "Guard the crack—Chen, wards. Ling, eyes up. I'll lead."
Ye Qing nodded, spear braced, guiding Ye Hua and the kids back to the gate. "Hold fast, lad," he called, voice steady. "We're stone now."
Lin Feng descended into the ravine, Ye Ling and Ye Chen flanking, their steps silent on wet stone. The crack's light grew, qi thick as syrup, runes pulsing in rhythm with the seal. A chamber loomed below—stone doors, half-ajar, etched with arrays older than sects. A qi crystal—Starheart Shard, fist-sized—jutted from the floor, its silver pulse syncing with Lin Feng's core, urging him closer.
Pulse Sense caught a shadow—blue silk, Iron Fang's wolf sigil, darting above. Three scouts, blades drawn, qi sharp—Body Tempering 6, trained, not bandits. "Down," Lin Feng hissed, shoving Ye Ling behind a pillar. Ye Chen ducked, pebble clutched, sling ready.
The lead scout—Kang Wei, face sharp from Iron Fang's hall—leapt into the ravine, landing light, sword gleaming. "Wanderer," he called, voice cold, "you're loud—valley's buzzing. Show yourself."
Lin Feng stepped out, Heaven's Veil flickering—a faint shield, qi steady. "You're bold," he said, smirking. "Sect dogs sniffing graves?"
Kang's qi flared, sword slashing—a qi arc, fast and precise. Lin Feng's Veil absorbed it, dust exploding, his Anchor Strike snapping Kang's wrist—a crack, sword skittering. Kang staggered, cursing, but the other scouts struck—blades twin streaks, qi sparking. Lin Feng ducked, Veil straining, his kick felling one with a crushed knee, blood welling.
Ye Ling pounced, her dagger a blur—qi flared, Body Tempering 1 peaking, slashing a scout's arm. Blood sprayed, the man howling as she spun clear, grinning wild. "Got teeth now!" she shouted, qi pulsing stronger, Starveil's gift burning bright.
Ye Chen's sling whistled—a ward-stone cracked the second scout's jaw, qi sparking, slowing him. The man slumped, groaning, as Ye Chen reloaded, his own qi flickering—a spark nearing flame. "Stay down," he muttered, pebble rolling.
Kang rallied, drawing a dagger, qi surging—Body Tempering 6, no elder but fierce. "You're no stray!" he snarled, lunging, blade aimed at Lin Feng's chest. The seal roared, fracture widening—pain seared, but Lin Feng channeled it, Veil solidifying, deflecting the strike. His Anchor Strike hammered Kang's shoulder—a crunch, blood spraying—Kang fell, gasping, eyes wide with dread.
"Run," Lin Feng said, looming, qi a golden pulse. "Or I keep you."
The scouts scrambled, dragging their wounded, vanishing over the rim. Ye Ling laughed, dagger raised, qi steady—Body Tempering 1, fully sparked. "They pissed themselves! Sect dogs, my ass."
Ye Chen retrieved his stone, eyes glinting. "That crystal," he said, nodding to the chamber. "It's like your glow. You're bound to it."
Lin Feng turned to the Starheart Shard, its pulse a mirror to his seal. He touched it, qi flooding—a vision surged: Yan Huo, cloaked, a jade seal cracking, blood on stone, whispering, "The heavens sleep, you wake." A name flashed—Void Fang Relic—tied to his cage, a key to Tian Xu's betrayal. Pain spiked, the seal trembling, but strength grew—Body Tempering 3's edge, raw and untested.
"Take it," he said, prying a shard free, tossing it to Ye Ling. "Chew slow—it'll push you."
She caught it, grinning, biting down—qi flared, her eyes blazing, Body Tempering 1 solidifying. "Like fire," she said, sweat beading, dagger trembling with new weight.
Ye Chen took another, chewing steady, qi stirring—his flicker grew, a step from Body Tempering 1. "Heavy," he murmured, sling tightening. "Like I'm… more."
"Hold it," Lin Feng said, stepping into the chamber. The doors groaned, revealing a stone altar—runes spiraled, qi thick, a faint chant echoing: Yan Huo, Yan Huo. The seal burned, pain a hammer, but he pressed forward, Pulse Sense mapping traps—arrays, dormant but lethal, guarding something deeper.
Ye Ling followed, dagger ready, qi pulsing. "This place—it's alive," she said, voice hushed. "You're not surprised."
"Old debts," Lin Feng said, tracing a rune—it sparked, qi flaring, the altar trembling. A crack widened, stone grinding, revealing a jade box—small, sealed, its qi frost-cold, like the cloaked shadow's chant.
Ye Chen's sling creaked, his gaze sharp. "That's no loot," he said, blunt. "It's trouble."
"Always is," Lin Feng said, reaching for the box. His qi surged, Veil flickering—the seal screamed, pain flooding, a new skill sparking: Heaven's Thread, a qi tether to bind or break. He pulled back, box untouched, the chant louder—Yan Huo, rise.
A shout broke the quiet—Ye Jun's voice, shrill, from the gate. "Feng! Blue robes, more!" Lin Feng's Pulse Sense caught them—five now, qi stronger, Body Tempering 7 leading, Iron Fang's true hand, not scouts. The ravine's hum spiked, runes flaring, the jade box pulsing like a heart.
"Back," Lin Feng said, sprinting up, Ye Ling and Ye Chen scrambling after, qi burning. The gate loomed—Ye Qing's spear raised, Ye Hua shielding the kids, traps humming. Blue silk flashed through the woods, blades drawn, qi a steady storm. The lead figure—tall, wolf-sigil cloak, Body Tempering 7—raised a spear, its tip glowing with sect arrays, aimed at the gate.
Lin Feng burst from the ravine, Veil shimmering, Thread sparking—a qi tether lashed out, snaring the spear's haft, yanking it wide. The leader stumbled, roaring, as Lin Feng charged, Anchor Strike ready, the seal's golden light flooding the dusk, earth shaking under his step.