The Ye Clan's courtyard lay hushed under a moonless sky, its walls etched with scars from battles past—Black Claw's fire, Iron Fang's spears, now braced for worse. The air buzzed with qi, sharp and restless, stirred by the ravine's hum, its cracked arch pulsing like a wound. Lin Feng stood at the gate's choke, the jade box tucked in his robes, its frost-cold qi syncing with the seal within—a golden fracture roaring, pain forging his frail frame into Body Tempering 3's steel. His muddy-brown eyes scanned the woods, Heaven's Pulse Sense catching silk rustling—thirty Lin Clan warriors, qi spiking, led by a shadow at Body Tempering 8. Lin Mei's raid, midnight's blade, here for his head.
Ye Ling prowled nearby, rusty dagger gleaming, qi blazing—Body Tempering 1, Starveil's flame nearing 2, a wolf's hunger in her stance. Her braid was tucked tight, eyes glinting. "They're close," she whispered, gripping the dagger. "I feel 'em—sharp, like knives."
"Lin Clan," Lin Feng said, voice a low edge. "Mei's leading. Stay sharp."
Ye Chen limped up, sling loaded, ward-etched pebble pulsing faint—Body Tempering 1, fresh but fierce. His gaze flicked to the gate's traps—thorn snares, rune wards, qi nets humming unseen. "Too many," he said, blunt. "We bled five—thirty's death."
"We don't die," Lin Feng replied, palming a rune-stone. The seal burned, Heaven's Thread sparking—a qi tether ready to bind or break. "Gate's our spine. I lead, you follow."
Ye Qing braced behind, spear polished, his grizzled frame steady as Ye Hua clutched her knife, guarding Ye Jun and Ye Mei by the barricades. Their small hands held sticks, eyes wide but fierce, the clan's fire cold to hide their light. Lin Feng faced them, his presence a spark in the dark. "Midnight raid," he said, voice cutting the silence. "Lin Clan wants blood. We give 'em dust."
Ye Qing's spear tapped the dirt, nod firm. "We're iron now, lad. Call it."
"Choke holds," Lin Feng said. "Ling, left flank. Chen, stones high. Qing, gate. Hua, kids—strike last."
Ye Ling grinned, qi flaring—a flame craving blood. "Let's carve," she said, darting left, dagger low. Ye Chen climbed a wall, sling ready, qi steady. Ye Qing planted his spear, Ye Hua's knife gleamed, and the kids crouched, sticks poised.
Lin Feng stepped beyond the gate, Pulse Sense mapping thirty—four at Body Tempering 7, twenty-six at 6, Mei's Body Tempering 8 a quiet storm. Blue silk flashed, arrays glowing—storm spears, qi nets, Lin Clan's wealth turned to war. Mei emerged, black silk flowing, hairpin glinting, her blade a silver whisper. "Wanderer," she called, voice silk over steel, "you've stung deep—Hao's wrist, Tao's pride. Your head's my prize."
Lin Feng's smirk was cold, Veil flickering. "Mei," he said, recognizing her qi from scrolls of old feuds. "You're far from the sea. Bad choice."
Her blade slashed—a qi arc, fast as lightning, Body Tempering 8's weight. Lin Feng's Veil shimmered, deflecting, dust exploding as he darted right, Thread lashing her wrist—a tug threw her strike wide. His Anchor Strike snapped her shoulder—a muffled crunch, blood seeping, but Mei spun clear, qi flaring, blade rising again.
The raid struck—spears thrust, qi nets sparking, warriors charging the choke. Lin Feng's rune-stone flared—wards erupted, ground splitting, six men snared, screaming as thorns bit flesh. Ye Ling leapt from the left, dagger reaping—qi flared, Body Tempering 1 peaking, slashing a warrior's arm. Blood sprayed, the man falling as she dodged a spear, her grin wild. "Soft!" she shouted, qi burning brighter, nearing Body Tempering 2's spark.
Ye Chen's sling cracked—a ward-stone smashed a warrior's jaw, qi slowing him, body crumpling. His qi pulsed—Body Tempering 1, solid now, pebble rolling with intent. "Stay down," he growled, reloading, stones raining—three fell, skulls cracked, wards humming.
Mei pressed, blade a storm—qi sharp, sect-honed. Lin Feng's Veil strained, deflecting slashes, Thread binding her blade, yanking it aside. His Anchor Strike grazed her ribs—a crack, blood welling—but Mei's qi swallowed pain, her counter slicing his arm, cloth tearing. The seal roared, fracture widening—pain seared, golden qi flooding, Body Tempering 3 trembling toward 4. He ducked a spear, Thread snaring its haft, Strike crushing the warrior's chest—ribs caved, body down.
The gate shook—traps bit deep, nets draining, snares tripping. Ye Qing's spear felled two, thrusting through armor, his roar defiant. Ye Ling's dagger claimed three, her qi a beacon—Body Tempering 2's edge, a flame breaking free. She slashed a thigh, toppling another, dodging a net's spark. Ye Chen's stones downed four, wards flaring, while Ye Hua's knife struck—a warrior fell, gut bleeding, her scream fierce. Ye Jun tossed a rock, clipping a knee; Ye Mei's stick struck true, buying Ye Qing time—a spear pierced another, blood pooling.
Mei rallied, qi spiking—Body Tempering 8, a tide of silk and steel. "Feng!" she snarled, blade thrusting—qi tore earth, arrays glowing. Lin Feng's Pulse Sense mapped it—he rolled, Veil cracking, Thread binding her ankle, pulling her down. Anchor Strike hammered her chest—a wet crunch, ribs snapping—blood sprayed, Mei gasping, blade trembling.
The raid broke—ten stood, qi fading, spears dropping. Lin Feng's rune-stone flared again—wards trapped five, writhing, as Ye Ling's dagger reaped, Ye Chen's stones cracked skulls. Ye Qing's spear held the choke, Ye Hua's knife a last line, kids' rocks piling small victories. Mei crawled back, blood dripping, qi spent. "Demon," she gasped, eyes wide. "Iron Fang was right—you're no man."
"Man's enough," Lin Feng said, looming, qi a golden storm. "Run, Mei. Tell Wei I'm waiting."
She fled, limping, five warriors dragging wounds, vanishing into the woods. Ye Ling cheered, dagger raised, qi blazing—Body Tempering 2, fresh and fierce. "We're storms!" she shouted, blood streaking her grin. Ye Chen slid down, sling slack, qi pulsing—Body Tempering 1, stronger now. "They're broken," he said, blunt, eyes on Lin Feng. "You're not."
Ye Qing's laugh roared, spear planted. "You're a damn tide, lad! Lin Clan's dust!"
Ye Hua bound wounds, gratitude raw. "You're our steel," she said, pressing a rag to Lin Feng's arm, Ye Jun and Ye Mei beaming, sticks bloodied but proud.
Lin Feng nodded, blood dripping, seal quieting—Body Tempering 3, teetering on 4, pain his anvil. "Rest," he said, pulling the jade box free. Its frost-qi pulsed, syncing with the ravine's hum—Yan Huo, rise, a chant louder now, earth trembling faintly.
At the ravine, Lin Feng knelt by the arch, Ye Ling and Ye Chen watching. The box's arrays sparked, cold against his qi—a lock, not yet broken. Pulse Sense traced its runes—Void Fang Relic, key to his cage, Tian Xu's chain. A vision surged: Yan Huo's shadow, jade seal raised, a void splitting, whispering, "Relic opens, gods kneel." Pain spiked, qi flooding—Body Tempering 4's spark flickered, not yet his.
Ye Ling's qi flared, eyes sharp. "That box—it's you," she said, dagger steady. "What's it want?"
"Truth," Lin Feng said, tucking it away. The chant grew—Yan Huo, awake—runes flaring, crack widening, silver light spilling like blood.
Ye Chen's pebble rolled, qi steady. "That's no prize," he said, blunt. "It's a blade."
"Blades cut," Lin Feng replied, standing. Smoke curled west—Lin Clan's, retreating, but another flickered north, sharp, not theirs. Pulse Sense caught silk—silver, not blue, qi frost-cold, moving wrong. The cloaked shadow, jade seal glinting, chanting louder—Yan Huo, rise.
Lin Feng drilled Ye Ling by the gate, Dawn's Thread pushing her qi—Body Tempering 2, burning bright. "Core, not fire," he said, nudging her stance. Her breath flared, qi spiking, a wolf's grin breaking free.
Ye Chen sparred, sling cracking—Body Tempering 1, edging up, wards glowing. "It's… heavy," he said, pebble sparking, sling taut.
Ye Hua brought stew, eyes fierce. "You're our storm," she said, bowls steaming. Ye Jun babbled, Ye Mei's gaze bright, the clan's fire warm.
Lin Feng gazed north, seal humming. The shadow paused, frost-qi spiking, jade seal raised—a pulse shook the ravine, light flaring, as the box burned cold against his chest, arrays trembling, ready to crack.