The Ye Clan's valley lay tense under midnight's starless veil, its northern ridge cloaked in shadow, where a stone arch pulsed faintly, its warm glow cutting through the dark. The air smelled of pine and iron, heavy with the jade box's hum—its runes alive, warm as a heartbeat, tucked against Lin Feng's chest. He stood on the ridge's crest, lean frame coiled, muddy-brown eyes piercing the night where his senses caught gray silk—twelve figures, qi sharp and silent, slipping through the pines with cold intent. His inner seal thrummed, golden light steady, Body Tempering 4 a honed edge, his soul a flame tempered by pain. The box's pulse stirred fleeting visions—skies awake, choices burning, a whisper of power unbound.
Ye Ling crouched beside him, rusty dagger gleaming, qi blazing like a furnace, Body Tempering 4 a fierce spark in her wolf-like eyes. Her braid hung tight, voice a whisper. "They're quiet," she said, fingers brushing stone. "Sneaky—feels like knives."
"Mist Veil," Lin Feng said, tone ice, palming a rune-stone. "Twelve, fast and sharp. We shatter them."
Ye Chen eased up, sling tucked in his belt, a carved pebble glowing faintly in his palm, Body Tempering 3 a keen ember craving fuel. His gaze swept the pines, then met Lin Feng's. "Twelve's light but deadly," he said, voice flat. "Slip past, we're cut. Plan?"
"We're the blade," Lin Feng said, a thread of qi coiling in his mind, ready to bind. "Ridge traps them. We strike first."
Ye Qing's low call carried from the valley gate, gruff but firm. "Feng! North's moving!" He stood with his spear, Ye Hua beside him, her knife a silent threat, guarding Ye Jun and Ye Mei behind stakes. Hidden traps hummed—spiked pits, qi nets, carved wards—poised to bite. Lin Feng glanced back, his presence a spark in the dark. "Night raid," he said, voice clear. "Twelve, qi cold. We hold the valley."
Ye Qing's spear scraped stone, his nod unseen but felt. "We're steel, lad. Give the word."
"Ridge is ours," Lin Feng said. "I lead, Ling left, Chen right—stones ready. Qing, gate stays shut. Hua, kids—watch the rear."
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 ridge's shadow. Ye Chen took the right, sling taut, qi humming as he climbed a low outcrop. Lin Feng melted into the ridge's edge, senses mapping twelve—qi at Body Tempering 6, gray silk whispering, daggers and faint wards glowing, their steps silent but hungry. He knelt by a snare, rune-stone pulsing—wards hummed, eager to strike. His qi shimmered, a golden shield forming.
A figure emerged, gray silk glinting, dagger raised, qi steady—a scout, wiry and pale, eyes scanning the ridge. "Feng!" he hissed, voice sharp. "Your valley's open—hand over the box, or we carve it."
Lin Feng stepped forward, his shield flickering, lips curling faintly. "Mist Veil," he said, voice cold. "Wrong shadows to stalk."
The scout's dagger slashed—a qi arc, swift and precise, honed by cunning. Lin Feng's shield wavered, turning the strike aside, pine needles scattering as he slid right, a qi thread snaring the scout's wrist—yanking it off balance. His fist struck, heavy with intent, cracking the scout's shoulder—bone snapped, a gasp escaping—but the man spun, qi flaring, dagger darting for Lin Feng's chest.
The raid surged—daggers flashed, wards sparked, qi spiking like a storm. Lin Feng's rune-stone glowed—wards erupted, ridge trembling, four 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 arm. Blood sprayed, the man collapsing as she dodged a ward's spark, her grin feral. "Too soft!" she called, qi surging, Body Tempering 4 fierce.
Ye Chen's sling snapped—a glowing stone smashed a scout's jaw, qi faltering, body dropping. His qi pulsed, Body Tempering 3 pushing toward a sharper edge, pebble alive with light. "Stay low," he muttered, stones flying—two scouts fell, skulls cracked, wards flashing.
The lead scout rallied, second 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 stone.
The ridge shook—snares clamped, nets drained qi, wards flared. Lin Feng's shield strained under twin daggers—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, thighs slashed, her qi a beacon, Body Tempering 4 fierce and bright. She ducked a dagger's arc, 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 stragglers.
Five scouts remained, qi dimming, daggers 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 staggered, blood dripping, qi fading. "Your box—it's your chain!" he rasped, eyes wild. "You're its slave!"
"Slave's enough," Lin Feng said, looming, qi a golden storm. He snapped a ward—ridge split, the scout snared, writhing. The man broke free, limping into the pines, gray 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, 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, gratitude fierce. "You're our strength," she said, tending wounds, Ye Jun and Ye Mei beaming, sticks dirt-smeared but proud.
Lin Feng nodded, blood drying, seal steady—Body Tempering 4 a quiet flame, pain his anvil. "Clean up," he said, easing the jade box from his robes. Its runes glowed, warm and shifting—no frost, but heavy with intent.
By the arch, Lin Feng knelt, Ye Ling and Ye Chen watching, midnight deep. The box's light pulsed, runes alive—something unbound, its purpose veiled. He touched it, seal stirring—a vision flickered: choices burning, power waiting, a voice whispering, "Paths open, fates cross." His qi held firm, Body Tempering 4 a steady strength.
Ye Ling's qi flared, eyes sharp. "It's warm," she said, dagger still. "Feels like it's waiting."
"Always waiting," Lin Feng said, box steady in his palm. The arch's glow softened, its pulse faint, but his senses caught a stir—red silk, south, qi hungry, not Mist Veil's cunning.
Ye Chen's pebble spun in his hand, qi steady. "Box is alive," he said, flat. "So's trouble."
"Trouble bleeds," Lin Feng said, rising. He guided Ye Ling by the ridge, refining her qi with a calm hand—Body Tempering 4, edging toward a brighter spark. "Core, not fire," he said, adjusting her stance. Her qi surged, grin fierce.
Ye Chen swung his sling, stones cracking air, Body Tempering 3 growing firm, wards alive. "It's… light," he said, pebble glowing.
Ye Hua brought water, gaze fierce. "You're our storm," she said, hands steady. Ye Jun giggled, Ye Mei's eyes bright.
Lin Feng looked south, seal humming. Red silk crept closer—thirty, qi fierce, hunger reborn. The box pulsed, runes alive, as Ye Chen tightened his sling, voice a whisper. "They're back, Feng. That box—it's pulling them, isn't it? When it wakes—"