The Ye Clan's outer fields stretched wide under dusk's fading bruise, golden wheat swaying against the valley's cliffs, where the ravine's hum pulsed sharper, its cracked arch spilling frost-qi like a wound's slow bleed. The air carried earth and sweat, tinged with the jade box's cold sting—arrays frayed, frost seeping, pressed against Lin Feng's chest.
He stood at the field's edge, frail frame taut, muddy-brown eyes locked on the western woods, where Heaven's Pulse Sense caught silk flashing—forty Lin Clan warriors, qi spiking, Body Tempering 7s leading, Lin Wei's dusk hammer from the coastal manor. The seal within roared, golden fracture flooding pain and power, Body Tempering 3 teetering on 4, Zhan Tian's soul a blade half-drawn. The box's chant—Yan Huo, rise—echoed visions: jade seals shattering, voids yawning, Tian Xu's betrayal binding him still.
Ye Ling prowled nearby, rusty dagger gleaming, qi blazing—Body Tempering 2, Starveil's flame edging toward 3, a wolf's grin in her eyes. Her braid was knotted tight, stance low. "They're coming," she said, voice a spark. "Big ones—feels like Mei, but worse."
"Lin Wei's hand," Lin Feng replied, tone steel, palming a rune-stone. "Forty, heavy qi. We hit first."
Ye Chen limped closer, sling loaded, ward-etched pebble pulsing—Body Tempering 1, firm and sharp, a spark craving fire. His gaze swept the fields, then Lin Feng. "Forty's a flood," he said, blunt. "Kang's ten broke easy. This won't."
"We're sharper," Lin Feng said, Heaven's Thread coiling—a qi tether ready. "Fields choke them. Traps bite."
Ye Qing's shout rang from the gate—gruff, urgent. "Feng! Shadows west!" He stood with his spear, Ye Hua at his side, knife blood-flecked, guarding Ye Jun and Ye Mei behind stakes. The clan's traps—thorn snares, qi nets, rune wards—hummed unseen, a web spun anew after dawn's scout rout. Lin Feng faced them, his presence a flame in the dusk. "Lin Clan's dusk raid," he said, voice slicing the quiet. "Forty, Body Tempering 7s up front. We don't crack."
Ye Qing's spear tapped earth, nod steady. "We're iron, lad. Call it."
"Fields hold," Lin Feng said. "I lead, Ling left, Chen right—stones high. Qing, gate. Hua, kids—strike late."
Ye Ling's qi flared, dagger spinning—Body Tempering 2, fierce and bright. "Let's gut 'em," she said, darting left, shadow blending with wheat. Ye Chen took the right, sling ready, qi pulsing on a rise. Ye Qing braced at the gate, Ye Hua's knife gleamed, and the kids gripped sticks, eyes hard despite trembling hands.
Lin Feng slipped into the fields, Pulse Sense mapping forty—six at Body Tempering 7, thirty-four at 6, led by Lin Shuang, a whip-thin elder, Body Tempering 8, qi a storm of sea and steel. Blue silk rippled, storm spears glowing, qi nets sparking—Lin Clan's wealth turned to wrath. Shuang stepped forward, blade drawn, hairpin glinting like Mei's, voice cold. "Lin Feng," he called, qi rolling, "your glow's too loud—Wei wants your head. Valley's ours."
Lin Feng emerged, Heaven's Veil shimmering—a faint shield, qi golden. "Shuang," he said, recognizing the elder's qi from old grudges. "Far from your docks. Bad move."
Shuang's blade slashed—a qi arc, heavy as tide, Body Tempering 8's might. Lin Feng's Veil flickered, deflecting, wheat shearing as he darted right, Thread lashing Shuang's wrist—a tug threw the strike wide. His Anchor Strike cracked Shuang's elbow—a snap, blood welling—but Shuang spun, qi flaring, blade rising fast.
The raid surged—spears thrust, nets sparked, warriors storming the fields. Lin Feng's rune-stone flared—wards erupted, earth splitting, eight snared in thorns, cursing as qi drained. Ye Ling struck from the left, dagger flashing—qi roared, Body Tempering 2 peaking, slashing a warrior's thigh. Blood sprayed, the man falling as she dodged a spear, grinning fierce. "Soft!" she shouted, qi surging, Body Tempering 3's spark flickering.
Ye Chen's sling cracked—a ward-stone smashed a warrior's jaw, qi slowing, body crumpling. His qi pulsed—Body Tempering 1, stronger now, pebble glowing. "Keep bleeding," he growled, stones raining—three fell, skulls cracked, wards flaring.
Shuang pressed, blade a whirlwind—qi sharp, sect-forged. Lin Feng's Veil strained, blocking slashes, Thread binding Shuang's blade, yanking it aside. Anchor Strike grazed Shuang's ribs—a crunch, blood seeping—but Shuang's qi swallowed pain, counter slicing Lin Feng's arm, cloth tearing. The seal screamed, pain searing—golden qi pushed Body Tempering 4's edge, strength flooding. He ducked a spear, Thread snaring its haft, Strike crushing a warrior's chest—ribs caved, breath gone.
The fields shook—traps bit deep, nets drained, snares tripped. Ye Ling's dagger reaped—three warriors bled, arms slashed, her qi a beacon, Body Tempering 3 trembling close. She dodged a net, striking a shin, toppling another. Ye Chen's stones felled four—jaws cracked, wards sparking, his qi edging up. Ye Qing's spear pierced two at the gate, his roar defiant, while Ye Hua's knife struck—a warrior fell, gut bleeding, her shout fierce. Ye Jun's rock clipped a knee, Ye Mei's stick struck true, buying Ye Qing time—a spear downed another.
Shuang rallied, qi spiking—Body Tempering 8, a tide of wrath. "Demon!" he snarled, blade thrusting—qi tore earth, spears glowing. Lin Feng's Pulse Sense mapped it—he rolled, Veil cracking, Thread binding Shuang's ankle, pulling him down. Anchor Strike hammered his chest—a wet snap, ribs breaking—blood sprayed, Shuang gasping, blade trembling.
Twenty stood, qi fading, spears slowing. Lin Feng's rune-stone flared—wards trapped ten, thorns biting, screams rising. Ye Ling's dagger claimed three, Ye Chen's stones two, Ye Qing's spear four. Shuang crawled back, blood dripping, qi spent. "Wei'll bury you," he gasped, eyes wild. "Void Fang—you're its pawn!"
"Pawn's enough," Lin Feng said, looming, qi a golden storm. He flicked a ward—earth split, five snared, writhing. The rest fled, dragging Shuang, blue silk fading into dusk.
Ye Ling cheered, dagger raised, qi blazing—Body Tempering 3, fresh and fierce. "We're wolves!" she shouted, blood streaking her grin. Ye Chen lowered his sling, qi pulsing—Body Tempering 1, nearing 2. "They're dust," he said, blunt, eyes on Lin Feng. "Box now?"
Ye Qing laughed, spear planted. "You're a damn tide, lad! Lin Clan's broken!"
Ye Hua bound wounds, gratitude raw. "You're our fire," she said, pressing rags to cuts, Ye Jun and Ye Mei beaming, sticks bloodied but proud.
Lin Feng nodded, blood dripping, seal quieting—Body Tempering 4's spark flickered, pain his anvil. "Clean up," he said, pulling the jade box free. Its frost spilled, arrays cracked wide—Yan Huo, rise—syncing with the ravine's pulse, earth trembling.
At the ravine, Lin Feng knelt, Ye Ling and Ye Chen watching. The box's runes flared, frost thick—Void Fang Relic, Tian Xu's chain. He touched it, seal roaring—a vision surged: Yan Huo's shadow, jade seal raised, void splitting, whispering, "Relic frees, heavens burn." Pain spiked, qi flooding—Body Tempering 4 trembled, not yet his.
Ye Ling's qi flared, eyes sharp. "It's breaking," she said, dagger steady. "You're tied—how deep?"
"Deep," Lin Feng said, box cold in his grip. The chant roared—Yan Huo, awake—crack widening, silver light flooding.
Ye Chen's pebble rolled, qi steady. "That's no key," he said, blunt. "It's a gate."
"Gates open," Lin Feng replied, rising. Pulse Sense caught silk—silver, frost-cold, north beyond the cliffs, chanting louder—Yan Huo, rise. The shadow, jade seal glinting, moved closer.
At the gate, Lin Feng drilled Ye Ling, Dawn's Thread pushing her qi—Body Tempering 3, burning bright. "Core, not fire," he said, guiding her stance. Her qi spiked, grin fierce.
Ye Chen sparred, sling cracking—Body Tempering 1, nearing 2, wards glowing. "It's… alive," he said, pebble sparking.
Ye Hua brought stew, eyes fierce. "You're our storm," she said, bowls steaming. Ye Jun babbled, Ye Mei's gaze bright.
Lin Feng gazed north, seal humming. The shadow paused, frost-qi spiking—a pulse shook the ravine, box trembling, as Ye Ling gripped his arm, voice low. "That shadow—it's here for you, isn't it? If that box breaks—"