The Ye Clan's valley lay hushed under midnight's heavy cloak, stars glinting above a clearing near the western pines, where a jagged stone arch cast a faint, eerie glow from its cracked surface. The air hummed with damp earth and pine sap, laced with the jade box's warm pulse—its runes alive, shifting like a restless mind, tucked against Lin Feng's chest. He crouched in the clearing's shadow, lean frame taut, muddy-brown eyes piercing the dark where his senses caught red silk—ten figures, qi sharp, moving low through the trees, their intent as cold as steel. His inner seal thrummed, golden light steady in his veins, Body Tempering 4 a honed blade, his soul a fire tempered by will. The box's hum stirred fleeting glimpses—skies stirring, paths crossing, a power unbound yet veiled.
Ye Ling knelt beside him, her rusty dagger catching starlight, qi blazing like a furnace, Body Tempering 4 a fierce spark in her narrowed eyes. Her braid hung tight, voice a whisper. "They're close," she said, fingers brushing dirt. "Sneaky—smells like trouble."
"Red Talon," Lin Feng said, tone ice, palming a smooth rune-stone. "Ten, quick and strong. We crush them."
Ye Chen eased up, sling tucked in his belt, a carved pebble glowing faintly in his palm, Body Tempering 3 a sharp ember craving fuel. His gaze swept the pines, then met Lin Feng's. "Ten's light but fast," he said, voice flat. "Worse than a flood if they slip through. Plan?"
"We're the trap," Lin Feng said, a faint thread of qi coiling in his mind, ready to snare. "Clearing pins them. We strike silent."
Ye Qing's low call carried from the valley's gate, distant but firm. "Feng! Shadows west!" He stood with his spear, beside Ye Hua, her knife a quiet threat, guarding Ye Jun and Ye Mei behind stakes. Hidden snares waited—spiked pits, woven qi nets, carved wards—ready to bite. Lin Feng glanced back, his presence a spark in the dark. "Night raid," he said, voice low but clear. "Ten, sharp qi. We hold the valley."
Ye Qing's spear tapped stone, his nod unseen but felt. "We're iron, lad. Give the word."
"Clearing's ours," Lin Feng said. "I lead, Ling left, Chen right—stones ready. Qing, gate stays shut. Hua, kids—watch for stragglers."
Ye Ling's qi flared, dagger steady, Body Tempering 4 a bright storm. "Let's hunt," she said, slipping left, her form fading into the pines. Ye Chen moved right, sling taut, qi humming as he took a low ridge. Lin Feng melted into the clearing's edge, senses mapping ten—qi at Body Tempering 6, red silk whispering, short blades and faint wards glowing, their steps light but hungry. He knelt by a snare, rune-stone humming—wards pulsed, eager to strike. His qi shimmered, a faint shield of golden light forming.
A figure emerged, red silk glinting, short blade raised, qi steady—a scout, lean and scarred, eyes scanning the clearing. "Feng!" he hissed, voice low but sharp. "Your valley's loud—show yourself, or we cut it open."
Lin Feng stepped forward, his shield flickering, lips curling faintly. "Red Talon," he said, voice cold. "Wrong ground to claw."
The scout's blade slashed—a qi arc, swift and precise, honed by discipline. Lin Feng's shield wavered, turning the strike aside, pine needles scattering as he slid right, a thread of qi snaring the scout's wrist—yanking it off balance. His fist struck, heavy with intent, cracking the scout's shoulder—bone snapped, a grunt escaping—but the man spun, qi flaring, blade darting for Lin Feng's chest.
The raid surged—blades flashed, wards sparked, qi spiking like a storm. Lin Feng's rune-stone glowed—wards erupted, earth trembling, three scouts caught in spiked pits, their curses sharp as qi bled away. Ye Ling struck from the left, dagger a blur, qi roaring as she slashed a scout's thigh. Blood sprayed, the man collapsing as she dodged a blade, her grin fierce. "Too soft!" she called, qi surging, a blaze of power.
Ye Chen's sling snapped—a glowing stone smashed a scout's jaw, qi faltering, body dropping. His own qi pulsed, Body Tempering 3 pushing toward a sharper edge, his pebble alive with light. "Stay low," he muttered, stones flying—two scouts fell, skulls cracked, wards flashing.
The lead scout rallied, dagger drawn, qi swelling. "Golden demon!" he snarled, lunging—blade aimed at Lin Feng's throat. The seal thrummed, Lin Feng's shield hardening, blocking the strike; a qi thread bound the scout's ankle, pulling him down. His fist hammered the man's ribs—a crunch, blood spilling—the scout gasped, dagger skittering across dirt.
The clearing shook—snares clamped, nets drained qi, wards flared. Lin Feng's shield strained under twin blades—Body Tempering 6, fast and fierce. He spun, a qi thread snaring a blade, his strike crushing a scout's ribs—bone snapped, breath gone. Another lunged—Lin Feng sidestepped, fist breaking a knee, blood pooling. His seal burned, Body Tempering 4 blazing—golden qi surged, strength steady.
Ye Ling's dagger danced—two scouts bled, arms slashed, her qi a beacon, Body Tempering 4 fierce and bright. She ducked a ward's spark, her blade slicing a shin, another scout falling. Ye Chen's stones downed three—jaws shattered, wards glowing, his qi touching Body Tempering 4's spark. At the gate, Ye Qing's spear stood firm, Ye Hua's knife ready, the kids' sticks poised for any who broke through.
Five scouts remained, qi dimming, blades slowing. Lin Feng's rune-stone flared—wards trapped three, spikes biting, cries rising. Ye Ling's dagger took one, Ye Chen's stone another, leaving the lead scout alone. He crawled back, blood dripping, qi fading. "Your box—it's doom," he rasped, eyes wild. "You're its pawn!"
"Pawn's enough," Lin Feng said, towering, qi a golden blaze. He snapped a ward—earth split, the scout snared, writhing. The man broke free, staggering into the pines, red silk fading into shadow.
Ye Ling raised her dagger, qi roaring, Body Tempering 4 a fierce glow. "Rats scatter!" she shouted, blood streaking her grin. Ye Chen eased his sling, qi pulsing, Body Tempering 3 sharp and alive. "They're gone," he said, voice flat, eyes on Lin Feng. "Box still humming?"
Ye Qing's voice carried, rough with pride. "You're a damn blaze, lad! Night's ours!"
Ye Hua stepped from the gate, rags in hand, her gratitude quiet but fierce. "You're our strength," she said, tending cuts, Ye Jun and Ye Mei grinning, their sticks dirt-smeared but proud.
Lin Feng nodded, blood drying, seal calm—Body Tempering 4 a steady fire, pain his crucible. "Rest," he said, easing the jade box from his robes. Its runes glowed warm, shifting like thoughts—no frost, but heavy with intent.
By the stone arch, Lin Feng knelt, Ye Ling and Ye Chen at his side, midnight deep. The box's light pulsed, runes alive—something unbound, its purpose veiled. He touched it, seal stirring—a glimpse flickered: skies awake, paths crossing, a voice whispering, "Choices burn, power waits." His qi held firm, Body Tempering 4 a quiet strength.
Ye Ling's qi flared, eyes narrowed. "It's warm," she said, dagger still. "Feels like it's watching."
"Always watching," Lin Feng said, box steady in his palm. The arch's glow softened, its pulse faint, but his senses caught a stir—blue silk, west, qi heavy, not Red Talon's hunger but a familiar rage.
Ye Chen's pebble spun in his hand, qi steady. "Box is alive," he said, voice flat. "So's trouble."
"Trouble bleeds," Lin Feng said, standing. He guided Ye Ling near the clearing, 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… heavy," he said, pebble glowing.
Ye Hua brought 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 west, seal humming. Blue silk moved closer—forty, qi fierce, wrath reborn. The box pulsed, runes alive, as Ye Chen tightened his sling, voice a whisper. "They're back, Feng. That box—it's calling them, isn't it? When it moves—"