The Ye Clan's valley glowed under dusk's fading embers, its eastern meadow bathed in soft light, where a stone arch pulsed faintly, its warm hum cutting through the twilight. The air carried grass and steel, sharp with the jade box's thrum—its runes alive, warm as a vein, pressed against Lin Feng's chest. He stood at the meadow's edge, lean frame taut, muddy-brown eyes scanning the southern pines where his senses caught red silk—fifteen warriors, qi fierce, charging with hungry intent. His inner seal burned, golden light steady, Body Tempering 4 a honed blade, his soul a fire forged by will. The box's pulse stirred glimpses—fates crossing, power stirring, a whisper of paths yet to burn.
Ye Ling knelt nearby, rusty dagger catching the dying light, qi roaring like a blaze, Body Tempering 4 a fierce spark in her wolf-sharp eyes. Her braid hung tight, voice a low growl. "They're bold," she said, fingers gripping dirt. "Lots of them—smells like greed."
"Red Talon," Lin Feng said, tone cold, palming a rune-stone. "Fifteen, fast and strong. We crush them."
Ye Chen limped close, sling tucked in his belt, a carved pebble glowing in his palm, Body Tempering 3 a keen ember hungry for more. His gaze flicked to the pines, then Lin Feng. "Fifteen's a storm," he said, voice flat. "Sharp ones. Plan?"
"We're the fire," Lin Feng said, a thread of qi coiling in his mind, ready to bind. "Meadow traps them. We strike hard."
Ye Qing's shout rang from the valley gate, gruff and steady. "Feng! South's alive!" He stood with his spear, Ye Hua beside him, her knife a quiet menace, guarding Ye Jun and Ye Mei behind wooden stakes. Hidden traps hummed—spiked snares, qi nets, carved wards—ready to bite. Lin Feng turned, his presence a spark in the dusk. "Dusk raid," he said, voice cutting through. "Fifteen, qi heavy. We hold the valley."
Ye Qing's spear tapped earth, his nod firm. "We're stone, lad. Call it."
"Meadow's our ground," Lin Feng said. "I lead, Ling left, Chen right—stones high. Qing, gate holds. Hua, kids—last stand."
Ye Ling's qi flared, dagger steady, Body Tempering 4 a bright storm. "Time to carve," she said, slipping left, blending with the meadow's grass. Ye Chen took the right, sling taut, qi humming as he climbed a low rise. Lin Feng moved along the meadow's edge, senses mapping fifteen—qi at Body Tempering 6, red silk flashing, axes and glowing wards, led by a broad warrior, qi blazing, eyes burning with ambition. He knelt by a snare, rune-stone pulsing—wards hummed, eager to strike. His qi shimmered, a golden shield forming.
The broad warrior charged out, axe raised, qi a fierce blaze. "Feng!" he roared, voice raw. "Your valley's ours—hand over the box, or we burn it!"
Lin Feng rose, his shield flickering, lips curling. "Red Talon," he said, voice ice. "Wrong field to claw."
The warrior's axe swung—a qi arc, heavy and swift, forged by hunger. Lin Feng's shield wavered, deflecting, grass tearing as he darted right, a qi thread snaring the axe's haft—yanking it aside. His fist struck, heavy with intent, cracking the warrior's chest—ribs snapped, blood welling—but the man bellowed, qi surging, axe slashing fast.
The raid crashed—axes swung, wards sparked, qi thundering. Lin Feng's rune-stone glowed—wards flared, meadow trembling, five warriors caught in snares, cursing as qi drained. Ye Ling struck from the left, dagger flashing, qi a storm as she slashed a warrior's arm. Blood sprayed, the man falling as she dodged a ward's spark, her grin feral. "Too slow!" she called, qi blazing, Body Tempering 4 fierce.
Ye Chen's sling snapped—a glowing stone smashed a warrior's jaw, qi faltering, body dropping. His qi pulsed, Body Tempering 3 pushing toward a sharper edge, pebble alive with light. "Stay down," he muttered, stones flying—three fell, skulls cracked, wards flashing.
The broad warrior pressed, axe a blur—qi sharp, relentless. Lin Feng's shield strained, blocking swings, his qi thread binding the axe, pulling it wide. 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 ducked an axe, qi snaring its haft, fist crushing a warrior's chest—ribs caved, breath gone.
The meadow shook—traps bit, nets drained, wards flashed. Ye Ling's dagger reaped—three warriors bled, thighs slashed, her qi a beacon, Body Tempering 4 steady and fierce. She ducked an axe's arc, her blade slicing a shin, another warrior falling. Ye Chen's stones downed three—jaws shattered, wards glowing, his qi touching Body Tempering 4's spark. Ye Qing's spear held the gate, Ye Hua's knife ready, the kids' sticks poised for stragglers.
Seven warriors stood, qi dimming, axes faltering. Lin Feng's rune-stone flared—wards trapped four, spikes biting, cries rising. Ye Ling's dagger took two, Ye Chen's stone one, leaving the broad warrior alone. He staggered, blood dripping, qi fading. "That box—it's your doom!" he rasped, eyes wild. "You're its pawn!"
"Pawn's enough," Lin Feng said, looming, qi a golden storm. He snapped a ward—meadow split, the warrior snared, writhing. The man broke free, limping into the pines, red silk fading in the dusk.
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 sharp and alive. "They're dust," he said, flat, eyes on Lin Feng. "Box still warm?"
Ye Qing's laugh boomed from the gate, spear planted. "You're a damn blaze, lad! Dusk's ours!"
Ye Hua stepped forward, rags in hand, gratitude fierce. "You're our fire," 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 purpose.
By the arch, Lin Feng knelt, Ye Ling and Ye Chen watching, dusk deepening. The box's light pulsed, runes alive—something unbound, its intent veiled. He touched it, seal stirring—a vision flickered: fates burning, power waiting, a voice whispering, "Paths cross, choices rise." His qi held firm, Body Tempering 4 a steady strength.
Ye Ling's qi flared, eyes sharp. "It's humming," 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 greed.
Ye Chen's pebble spun in his hand, qi steady. "Box is awake," he said, flat. "So's something else."
"Trouble bleeds," Lin Feng said, rising. He guided Ye Ling by the meadow, 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 west, seal humming. Blue silk crept closer—forty, qi fierce, wrath reborn. The box pulsed, runes alive, as Ye Ling gripped her dagger, voice a whisper. "They're coming, Feng. That box—it's calling them, isn't it? If it speaks—"