The Ye Clan's valley stirred under dawn's first gray light, mist coiling thick around pines and jagged cliffs, qi humming restless from the ravine's cracked arch. The air tasted of wet stone and pine sap, undercut by a faint frost—unnatural, sharp, tied to the jade box's pulse in Lin Feng's robes. He stood on a wooded ridge overlooking the river's bend, his frail frame taut, muddy-brown eyes scanning for Iron Fang's scouts—ten, Body Tempering 6, Wu Shen's dawn blade from the sect's hall. The seal within roared, golden fracture flooding his veins, pain forging Body Tempering 3 toward 4, each throb a hammer shaping Zhan Tian's divine soul. The box's frost-qi synced with his core, whispering Yan Huo, rise, a chant echoing visions of betrayal—jade seals, voids splitting, Tian Xu's cage.
Ye Ling crouched beside him, rusty dagger twirling, qi blazing—Body Tempering 2, Starveil's flame a steady fire, hungry for blood. Her braid hung loose, eyes sharp as a hawk's. "Scouts'll hit soon," she said, voice low, finger tracing dirt. "River's too quiet—smells like trouble."
"Ten," Lin Feng replied, tone clipped, Heaven's Pulse Sense stretching—a ripple of boots, silk rustling, qi spiking. "Body Tempering 6. Kang Wei's leading."
Ye Chen limped up, sling tucked in his belt, ward-etched pebble glowing faint—Body Tempering 1, solid but raw, a spark craving steel. His gaze flicked to the river, then Lin Feng. "Ten's heavy," he said, blunt. "Mei's thirty broke. We ready?"
"We break them," Lin Feng said, palming a rune-stone, its qi humming. "Ridge pins them. Traps bite first."
Ye Qing's call carried from the gate below—gruff, steady. "Feng! Woods stirring!" He stood with his spear, Ye Hua beside him, knife gleaming, guarding Ye Jun and Ye Mei behind stakes. The clan's fire was cold, traps reset—thorn snares, qi nets, rune wards pulsing unseen. Lin Feng glanced down, his presence a spark in the mist. "Iron Fang's here," he said, voice cutting the dawn. "Ten scouts, dawn strike. We don't bend."
Ye Qing nodded, spear braced. "We're stone, lad. Plan?"
"Ridge ambush," Lin Feng said. "I lead. Ling, right flank. Chen, high ground—stones. Qing, gate holds."
Ye Ling grinned, qi flaring—Body Tempering 2, fierce and bright. "Time to carve," she said, darting right, dagger low. Ye Chen climbed a boulder, sling ready, qi pulsing. Ye Qing planted his spear at the choke, Ye Hua's knife flashed, and the kids clutched sticks, eyes wide but steady.
Lin Feng slipped into the woods, Pulse Sense mapping ten—Kang Wei's sharp qi at Body Tempering 6, nine others trailing, blue silk glinting, blades drawn. No arrays, just steel and grit, Wu Shen's probe for the jade box. He knelt by a snare, rune-stone sparking—wards hummed, ready to bite. The seal burned, Heaven's Thread coiling—a qi tether to bind or snap.
The scouts emerged, Kang at the fore, sword raised, qi steady. "Feng!" he called, voice cold, eyes scanning the ridge. "Your glow's loud—valley's screaming. Show yourself, or we burn it."
Lin Feng stepped out, Heaven's Veil flickering—a faint shield, qi golden. "Kang," he said, smirk sharp. "Wu Shen's dog. Barking for scraps?"
Kang's qi flared, sword slashing—a qi arc, precise, sect-honed. Lin Feng's Veil shimmered, deflecting, pine needles exploding as he darted left, Thread lashing Kang's wrist—a tug threw the strike wide. His Anchor Strike snapped Kang's elbow—a crunch, blood seeping—Kang staggered, cursing, sword trembling.
The scouts charged—blades flashing, qi spiking, nine storms breaking loose. Lin Feng's rune-stone flared—wards erupted, ground trembling, three snared in qi nets, writhing as thorns bit legs. Ye Ling struck from the right, dagger a blur—qi flared, Body Tempering 2 peaking, slashing a scout's arm. Blood sprayed, the man falling as she ducked a counter, grinning wild. "Weak!" she taunted, qi burning, flame solidifying.
Ye Chen's sling cracked—a ward-stone smashed a scout's shoulder, qi sparking, slowing him. The man crumpled, groaning, as Ye Chen reloaded—Body Tempering 1, steady now, pebble pulsing. "Stay low," he muttered, stones raining—two fell, jaws cracked, wards humming.
Lin Feng moved, Veil straining under twin blades—qi sharp, Body Tempering 6 grit. He spun, Thread snaring a sword, yanking it free, Anchor Strike crushing a scout's ribs—bone snapped, breath gone. Another struck—Lin Feng ducked, Strike felling the man with a broken knee, blood pooling. The seal roared, pain searing—golden qi pushed Body Tempering 4's edge, strength flooding his limbs.
Kang rallied, dagger drawn, qi surging. "Demon!" he snarled, lunging—blade aimed at Lin Feng's chest. The seal flared, Veil solidifying, blocking the thrust; Thread bound Kang's ankle, pulling him down. Anchor Strike hammered his chest—a wet crunch, ribs caving—Kang gasped, blood spraying, dagger skittering.
The ridge shook—traps snapped, nets drained qi, wards flared. Ye Ling's dagger reaped—two scouts bled, arms slashed, her qi a beacon in the dawn. She dodged a blade, striking a thigh, toppling another, Body Tempering 2 blazing. Ye Chen's stones felled three—skulls cracked, wards sparking, his qi pulsing stronger, Body Tempering 1's spark growing. Below, Ye Qing's spear guarded the gate, Ye Hua's knife ready, kids' sticks poised for stragglers.
Five scouts stood, qi fading, blades slowing. Lin Feng's rune-stone flared again—wards trapped two, thorns biting, screams rising. Ye Ling's dagger claimed one, Ye Chen's stone another, leaving Kang and one limping scout. Kang crawled, blood dripping, qi spent. "Wu Shen knows," he gasped, eyes wide. "Void Fang—you're its blade!"
"Blade's enough," Lin Feng said, looming, qi a golden storm. He flicked a ward—ground split, the last scout snared, writhing. Kang scrambled, fleeing with a limp, vanishing into mist.
Ye Ling laughed, dagger raised, qi blazing—Body Tempering 2, fierce as ever. "Dogs run!" she shouted, blood streaking her grin. Ye Chen slid down, sling slack, qi pulsing—Body Tempering 1, edging up. "They're done," he said, blunt, eyes on Lin Feng. "Box next?"
Ye Qing's voice boomed, spear steady. "You're a damn hurricane, lad! Sect's trembling!"
Ye Hua bound wounds, gratitude raw. "You're our steel," she said, pressing rags to cuts, Ye Jun and Ye Mei beaming, sticks dirt-smeared but proud.
Lin Feng nodded, blood dripping, seal quieting—Body Tempering 4's spark flickered, not yet solid, pain his forge. "Rest," he said, pulling the jade box free. Its frost-qi pulsed, louder—Yan Huo, rise—syncing with the ravine's hum, earth trembling faintly.
At the ravine, Lin Feng knelt by the cracked arch, Ye Ling and Ye Chen flanking, mist curling thick. The box's runes glowed, cold against his qi—a lock, stubborn but fraying. Pulse Sense traced its arrays—Void Fang Relic, key to Tian Xu's cage, Yan Huo's chain. He touched it, seal roaring—a vision surged: Yan Huo's shadow, jade seal raised, void splitting, whispering, "Relic wakes, heavens kneel." Pain spiked, qi flooding—Body Tempering 4 trembled, strength coiling.
Ye Ling's qi flared, eyes sharp. "It's alive," she said, dagger steady. "You're bound to it—aren't you?"
"Debt," Lin Feng said, fingers lingering on the box. 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 trap."
"Traps break," Lin Feng replied, tucking the box away. Pulse Sense caught silk—silver, not Iron Fang's, north beyond the river, qi frost-cold, moving wrong. The cloaked shadow, jade seal glinting, chanting louder—Yan Huo, rise.
Back at the gate, Lin Feng drilled Ye Ling, Dawn's Thread sharpening her qi—Body Tempering 2, nearing 3's spark. "Core, not rage," he said, nudging her stance. Her breath flared, qi spiking, grin fierce.
Ye Chen sparred, sling cracking—Body Tempering 1, growing firm, wards glowing. "It's… sharp," he said, pebble sparking, sling taut.
Ye Hua brought water, eyes fierce. "You're our storm," she said, cups trembling. Ye Jun babbled, Ye Mei's gaze bright, clan's fire low but warm.
Lin Feng gazed north, seal humming. The shadow moved closer, frost-qi spiking, jade seal raised—a pulse shook the ravine, light flaring brighter, as the box burned cold against his chest, arrays trembling, cracking open, frost spilling free.