Twilight draped the Ye Clan's valley in a purple haze, cliffs looming over packed earth near the gate, where a jagged stone arch pulsed faintly, its eerie glow dim but alive. The air smelled of dust and pine, sharp with the strange hum of a jade box tucked against Lin Feng's chest—its carved runes warm, shifting like a waking mind. He stood at the gate's narrow choke, lean frame coiled, muddy-brown eyes fixed on the western pines, where his senses caught flickers of blue silk—fifty warriors, their qi blazing, led by figures with power that churned like a stormy sea. His inner seal thrummed, golden light steady in his veins, Body Tempering 4 a honed edge, his soul a weapon forged in pain. The box's hum stirred fleeting images—shadows fading, skies watching, chains loosening in silence.
Ye Ling paced at his side, her rusty dagger catching the fading light, qi roaring like a bonfire, Body Tempering 4 a fierce glow in her wolf-like eyes. Her braid hung tight, voice low and eager. "Big pack out there," she said, kicking a clod of dirt. "Feels like they're bringing death itself."
"Lin Clan," Lin Feng said, tone cold as stone, fingers brushing a smooth rune-stone. "Fifty, strong ones leading. We shatter them."
Ye Chen limped closer, sling tucked in his belt, a carved pebble in his palm glowing faintly, Body Tempering 2 with a spark itching for more. His sharp gaze flicked to the pines, then to Lin Feng. "Fifty's a flood," he said, voice flat. "Shade was one—this is worse. Plan?"
"We're the flood," Lin Feng said, a faint thread of qi coiling in his mind, ready to bind or break. "Gate traps them. We strike first."
Ye Qing's gruff shout carried from the barricades behind. "Feng! West's moving!" He stood tall, spear in hand, beside Ye Hua, whose knife gleamed with quiet menace, both guarding Ye Jun and Ye Mei behind wooden stakes. Hidden traps waited—spiked snares, woven qi nets, carved wards—silent but deadly, set to guard the clan. Lin Feng turned, his presence a spark in the growing dark. "Lin Clan's coming," he said, voice cutting through the tension. "Fifty, their best at the front. We don't break."
Ye Qing's spear scraped the earth, his nod steady. "We're rock, lad. Give the word."
"Gate's our ground," Lin Feng said. "I hold the choke. Ling, left flank. Chen, right—stones from above. Qing, barricades. Hua, kids—hit last."
Ye Ling's qi flared, dagger twirling, Body Tempering 4 a bright storm. "Time to carve," she said, slipping left, her shadow merging with the stakes. Ye Chen moved right, sling ready, qi humming as he climbed a low rise. Ye Qing braced at the barricades, Ye Hua's knife flashed, and the kids clutched sticks, their eyes hard despite trembling hands.
Lin Feng stood firm at the choke, senses sharp—fifty warriors, ten radiating power like crashing waves, the rest a tide of lesser strength, blue silk shimmering, glowing spears and sparking nets in hand. A lean figure stepped forward, blade drawn, qi a sea of fury, his gray beard twitching with scorn. "Lin Feng!" he roared, voice a lash. "Your tricks end tonight. This valley's ours—your blood's the price."
Lin Feng's qi shimmered, a faint shield of golden light forming. "Old man," he said, lips curling, "you're far from your sea. Bad choice."
The warrior's blade swept down, qi surging like a tidal wave, heavy with seasoned power. Lin Feng's shield flickered, turning the strike aside, earth splitting as he slid right, a thread of qi snaring the man's wrist—yanking it off course. His fist struck, heavy with intent, cracking the warrior's shoulder—bone snapped, blood welling—but the man roared, qi flaring, blade slashing again with relentless force.
The assault hit like a wave—spears lunged, nets sparked, qi thundering. Lin Feng's rune-stone glowed—wards flared, ground rupturing, twelve warriors caught in spiked traps, their curses sharp as qi bled out. Ye Ling burst from the left, dagger flashing, qi a storm as she slashed a warrior's arm. Blood sprayed, the man collapsing as she weaved past a spear, her grin feral. "Too slow!" she called, qi burning brighter, a fierce blaze of power.
Ye Chen's sling snapped—a glowing stone smashed a warrior's jaw, qi faltering, body dropping. His own qi pulsed, Body Tempering 2 pushing toward something sharper, his pebble alive with light. "Stay grounded," he muttered, stones flying—four warriors fell, skulls cracked, wards sparking with intent.
The bearded warrior pressed forward, blade a whirlwind, qi honed by years. Lin Feng's shield wavered, blocking slashes, his qi thread binding the blade, pulling it aside. His strike landed, fist to ribs—a crunch, blood seeping—but the warrior's qi surged, pain ignored, his counter grazing Lin Feng's arm, blood staining his sleeve. The seal thrummed, Body Tempering 4 blazing—golden qi flooded, strength swelling. He sidestepped a spear, qi snaring its shaft, his fist crushing a warrior's chest—ribs collapsed, breath stolen.
The gate trembled—traps clamped shut, nets drained qi, wards flashed. Ye Ling's dagger danced—four warriors bled, thighs slashed, her qi a lighthouse in the fray, Body Tempering 4 steady and fierce. She ducked a sparking net, her blade slicing a shin, another warrior falling. Ye Chen's stones downed five—jaws shattered, wards glowing, his qi igniting, Body Tempering 3's spark taking root. Ye Qing's spear pierced three at the barricades, his bellow fierce, while Ye Hua's knife found a mark—a warrior dropped, gut torn, her cry sharp. Ye Jun's flung rock bruised a knee, Ye Mei's stick struck true, giving Ye Qing an opening—a spear felled another, blood pooling.
The bearded warrior rallied, qi swelling like a tempest. "Demon!" he snarled, blade thrusting, qi ripping the earth, spears aglow. Lin Feng sensed the move—he spun, shield cracking, qi thread snaring the warrior's ankle, dragging him down. His fist hammered the man's chest—ribs snapped, blood spraying—the warrior gasped, blade trembling in a weakening grip.
Thirty warriors remained, qi flickering, spears faltering. Lin Feng's rune-stone blazed—wards trapped fifteen, spikes biting, screams piercing the twilight. Ye Ling's dagger took four, Ye Chen's stones three, Ye Qing's spear five. The bearded warrior crawled back, blood dripping, qi fading. "You're cursed," he rasped, eyes burning. "That relic owns you—slaves don't win."
"Slaves fight," Lin Feng said, towering, qi a golden blaze. He snapped a ward—earth split, ten warriors caught, writhing in pain. The rest broke, dragging their leader, blue silk vanishing into the pines.
Ye Ling raised her dagger, qi roaring, Body Tempering 4 a fierce glow. "Dogs flee!" she shouted, blood streaking her grin. Ye Chen eased his sling, qi pulsing, Body Tempering 3 alive and sharp. "They're nothing," he said, voice flat, eyes on Lin Feng. "That box—it's different."
Ye Qing's laugh boomed, spear planted. "You're a wildfire, lad! They're ash now!"
Ye Hua pressed rags to wounds, her gratitude quiet but fierce. "You're our strength," she said, Ye Jun and Ye Mei grinning, their sticks smeared with dirt and pride.
Lin Feng nodded, blood drying, seal calm—Body Tempering 4 a steady fire, pain his crucible. "Clean up," he said, easing the jade box from his robes. Its runes glowed warm, shifting like thoughts—no frost, but heavy with purpose.
By the ravine, Lin Feng knelt, Ye Ling and Ye Chen at his side, twilight deepening. The box's light pulsed, runes alive—something unbound, its meaning veiled. He touched it, seal stirring—a glimpse flickered: shadows gone, skies alive, a voice whispering, "Paths open, choices burn." His qi held firm, Body Tempering 4 a quiet strength.
Ye Ling's qi flared, eyes narrowed. "No cold now," she said, dagger still. "But it's not done, is it?"
"Never done," Lin Feng said, box warm in his palm. The arch's glow faded, its pulse soft, but his senses caught a new stir—red silk, south, qi prowling, not Lin Clan's rage but a hunter's greed.
Ye Chen's pebble spun in his hand, qi steady. "Box is awake," he said, voice flat. "So are they."
"They'll learn," Lin Feng said, standing. He guided Ye Ling near the gate, refining her qi with a steady hand—Body Tempering 4, edging toward a brighter spark. "Focus, not flame," he said, adjusting her stance. Her qi surged, her grin sharp.
Ye Chen swung his sling in practice, stones cracking air, Body Tempering 3 growing roots, wards alive. "It's… clear," he said, pebble glowing.
Ye Hua brought bowls of water, her gaze fierce. "You're our storm," she said, hands steady. Ye Jun giggled, Ye Mei's eyes bright with quiet pride.
Lin Feng looked south, seal humming. Red silk moved closer—thirty, their qi hungry, probing the valley's edge. The box pulsed, runes alive, as Ye Ling tightened her grip, voice a whisper. "They're coming, Feng. That box—it's pulling them, isn't it? When it speaks—"