The Ye Clan's gate cast a jagged shadow across the dusk, its stakes charred but unyielding after Black Claw's fire. Torches sputtered along the wall, their light barely piercing the valley's thickening mist—a shroud heavy with qi, stirred by the ravine's cracked arch. Lin Feng stood before the gate, blood streaking his torn robes, the seal within roaring—a golden fracture flooding his veins, pain hammering his frail frame into something fierce. His Heaven's Thread still hummed, qi tether sparking from the Iron Fang leader's spear, yanked wide moments ago. The leader—tall, wolf-sigil cloak, Body Tempering 7—regained his footing, spear glowing with sect arrays, eyes locked on Lin Feng like a hawk on prey. Four scouts flanked him, blades drawn, qi sharp at Body Tempering 6, their silk rustling in the tense air.
Ye Ling darted to Lin Feng's side, her rusty dagger glinting, qi blazing—Body Tempering 1, Starveil's spark now a steady flame. Her braid swung free, eyes wild with fight. "Sect dogs don't learn," she growled, stance low. "We break 'em?"
"Hard," Lin Feng replied, voice a quiet blade, Heaven's Veil flickering—a faint shield ready. The seal burned, edging him toward Body Tempering 3, strength coiling tight.
Ye Chen limped forward, sling creaking, ward-etched pebble clutched tight. His qi flickered—nearing Body Tempering 1, a spark craving blood. "Five's too many," he said, blunt, gaze scanning the scouts. "Plan?"
"Gate's our wall," Lin Feng said, eyes on the leader. "I lead. Ling, flanks. Chen, stones."
Behind, Ye Qing braced at the choke, spear steady, his grizzled face set like stone. Ye Hua guarded Ye Jun and Ye Mei, her knife blood-flecked, urging them behind barricades. The clan's traps—thorn snares, rune wards, qi nets—hummed unseen, a web spun tight. Lin Feng's Pulse Sense caught the leader's qi—a storm, sharper than Deng Kao's, sect-trained and lethal.
The leader, Gao Ran, raised his spear, voice a cold lash. "Wanderer—Lin Feng, is it? You've stung Iron Fang's pride. Surrender, or we carve your rats to bone."
Lin Feng smirked, Thread sparking—a qi tether snagged Gao's spear again, twisting it. "Big spear, small threat," he said, stepping forward. "Try me."
Gao roared, qi surging—Body Tempering 7 flaring, spear thrusting—a qi arc tore the earth, fast and heavy. Lin Feng's Veil shimmered, absorbing the blow, dust exploding as he darted left, Anchor Strike snapping Gao's elbow—a muffled crunch. Gao staggered, snarling, but his spear spun, qi spiking, forcing Lin Feng back.
Ye Ling struck, dagger flashing—her qi flared, Body Tempering 1 peaking, slashing a scout's thigh. Blood sprayed, the man collapsing as she ducked a counterblade, grinning fierce. "Soft!" she taunted, qi pulsing, Starveil's flame burning brighter.
Ye Chen's sling whistled—a ward-stone cracked a scout's shoulder, qi sparking, slowing him. The man fell, cursing, as Ye Chen reloaded, his qi flicker steady. "Keep bleeding," he muttered, pebble rolling with intent.
The scouts pressed, blades twin storms—qi sharp, sect-honed. Lin Feng's Veil strained, deflecting a slash, his kick crushing a scout's knee—bone snapped, screams rising. Another struck—Lin Feng spun, Thread lashing the blade away, Anchor Strike slamming the man's chest, ribs caving. He dropped, gasping, as Lin Feng's seal screamed—pain seared, golden qi pushing Body Tempering 3's edge, strength flooding his limbs.
Gao rallied, spear spinning—a qi vortex, earth splintering. "Demon!" he bellowed, lunging, spear aimed at Lin Feng's heart. The seal roared, fracture splitting—Lin Feng's Veil solidified, blocking the thrust, his Thread wrapping Gao's wrist, yanking him off-balance. Anchor Strike hammered Gao's ribs—a wet crack, blood spraying—Gao fell to one knee, spear trembling, qi fading.
Ye Ling danced through, dagger reaping—a scout's arm bled, another's shin split, her qi flare a beacon in the dusk. "Come on!" she shouted, dodging a blade, her strike landing true—blood pooled, the man down. Ye Chen's stones rained—two scouts fell, skulls cracked, wards humming with qi. Ye Qing charged, spear piercing a shoulder, his roar shaking the gate, while Ye Hua's knife guarded the kids, her slashes fierce but steady.
The gate held—traps bit deep, snares tripping, wards draining. Three scouts stood, blades slowing, qi spent. Gao rose, blood dripping, spear dragging. "You're no man," he gasped, eyes wide with dread. "Iron Fang'll bury you—Elder Wu knows!"
"Wu's next," Lin Feng said, looming, qi a golden storm. He flicked a rune-stone—wards flared, ground trembling, trapping the last scouts in a qi net, writhing. Ye Ling's dagger finished one, Ye Chen's stone another, Ye Qing's spear the last. Gao turned to flee—Lin Feng's Thread lashed his ankle, pulling him down, Anchor Strike grazing his skull. Blood welled, Gao slumping, alive but broken.
Ye Ling cheered, dagger raised, qi blazing—Body Tempering 1, stronger now, a flame craving more. "We're wolves!" she shouted, blood streaking her grin. Ye Chen lowered his sling, qi flickering—Body Tempering 1's edge, his pebble still. "They're done," he said, blunt, eyes on Lin Feng. "You're not."
Ye Qing's laugh boomed, spear planted. "Hurricane, lad! Sect's pissing bricks now!"
Ye Hua pressed rags to wounds, her voice thick. "You're our fire," she told Lin Feng, Ye Jun and Ye Mei clinging close, their sticks blood-flecked but proud. The gate smoldered, traps spent, but the clan stood—unbent, alive.
Lin Feng nodded, blood dripping, seal quieting—Body Tempering 3, solid but raw, pain his forge. "Clean up," he said, turning to the ravine. The arch's hum grew—a chant, Yan Huo, Yan Huo, louder, the jade box's frost-qi pulsing in his mind. He led Ye Ling and Ye Chen back, dusk deepening, the valley's air heavy with secrets.
At the ravine, the crack's silver light flared—runes glowed, stone grinding. Lin Feng knelt by the jade box, its arrays cold, sparking against his qi. "Stay back," he told Ye Ling, Pulse Sense mapping traps—lethal, but dormant. He touched the box, seal roaring—a vision surged: Yan Huo's shadow, jade seal cracking, a void opening, whispering, "Relic wakes, heavens fall." A pulse—Void Fang Relic, key to his cage, Tian Xu's chain. Pain spiked, qi flooding, strength settling—Body Tempering 3, a step closer.
Ye Ling's qi flared, eyes wide. "That box—it's like you," she said, dagger trembling. "What's it hiding?"
"Old debts," Lin Feng said, lifting the box—light as air, heavy as fate. The chant grew—Yan Huo, rise—runes flaring, earth trembling.
Ye Chen's sling creaked, his qi steady. "That's no loot," he said, blunt. "It's war."
"War's coming," Lin Feng replied, tucking the box into his robes. Pulse Sense caught a flicker—blue silk, not Iron Fang's, darting west. Lin Clan, closer now, scrolls clutched, qi faint but many. The ravine's hum spiked—a crack widened, light spilling, qi thick as blood.
Night fell, the clan's fire low. Lin Feng drilled Ye Ling by the gate, Dawn's Thread sharpening her qi—Body Tempering 1, nearing 2. "Core, not lungs," he said, nudging her stance. Her breath steadied, qi blazing, a flame to match her grin.
Ye Chen practiced, qi sparking—Body Tempering 1, fresh but firm. "It's… alive," he murmured, sling tightening, pebble glowing faint.
Ye Hua brought stew, gratitude raw. "You're our storm," she said, pressing a bowl into Lin Feng's hands. Ye Jun babbled about the fight, Ye Mei's eyes bright with awe.
Lin Feng sipped, gazing west. Smoke lingered—Lin Clan's, not Iron Fang's. A shadow moved—cloaked, frost-cold, jade seal glinting, same as the ravine's vision. It paused, chanting—Yan Huo, awake—qi surging, a pulse shaking the valley.
Ye Ling followed his gaze, dagger ready. "That's no scout," she said, voice low, qi flaring. "You know it, don't you? What's coming?"
Lin Feng's seal burned, qi a golden tide. "Trouble," he said, turning to her, eyes like stone. "Bigger than sects. If that box opens—"