A bead of sweat, heavy and slow, traced a path from Gu Moyu’s temple down his jawline before dropping from his chin, a silent testament to the tension that hung in the air like a physical weight.

  He eased his breath out, a slow, controlled exhalation meant to calm the frantic hammering of his own heart, his gaze fixed on the cloaked figure who stood before them like a specter of death.

  He saw Ying Xia beside him, her knuckles white as she gripped her golden spear, the weapon’s unyielding stillness a mirror of her own fierce resolve.

  "Ma Niu, get ready,"

  Gu Moyu stated, his voice a low, steady murmur that was swallowed by the profound silence of the forest. His hand, hidden by the folds of his robe, slipped a worn, intricately folded talisman from an inner pocket.

  I'm going to need a lot of Qi for this, Even if I fall into Qi deviation, we have to survive this.

  The swordsman watched them, his own eyes cold and sharp under the shadow of his hood, the polished steel of his blade glinting as it caught a stray beam of sunlight.

  "You must be the sect fiends the bandits have been looking for," he said, his voice a dry rasp. "Your heads… will make my boss's job easier."

  With a speed that defied the eye, he moved. A quick draw, and his blade was a blur of motion, a silver arc that hissed through the air, aimed to cleave Gu Moyu’s head from his shoulders.

  But Gu Moyu didn't retreat. He pushed forward, his own fist, now pulsating with a raw, gathered Qi, thrusting out to meet the attack.

  "Jaded Crow's Thrust!"

  At the last possible second, a brilliant, yellow light erupted from Gu Moyu’s chest.

  The swordsman’s blade struck not flesh, but a barrier that looked like shattered, stained glass, the defensive talisman activating in a flash of power.

  The barrier exploded on impact, the swordsman pulling his blade back with a grunt of surprise from the unexpected resistance.

  The momentary opening was all Gu Moyu needed. His fist was already there.

  Letting out a low groan, the swordsman was sent stumbling backwards, his hand flying to his stomach where the Qi-infused blow had landed.

  "A talisman?" he gasped, his breath driven from his lungs. Before he could recover, before he could even raise his guard, Xia was on him.

  She shot forward, her golden spear a streak of vengeful light.

  "Thrust Move, Stage 11, Set A304!"

  The spear’s dragon-fang head pierced the swordsman’s side with a wet, tearing sound. A gush of blood erupted from the wound, and the cloaked man fell to his knees, his own blade clattering from his numb fingers.

  His eyes, wide with a final, uncomprehending shock, slowly lost their light.

  "That's what you get for having your guard down!"

  Ma Niu declared, rushing forward. He pulled a small, shimmering pill from a pouch at his belt, presenting it to Gu Moyu.

  "Hurry and recover your Qi."

  Gu Moyu’s hand came up, gently blocking the offering. "No need," he said, his own chest heaving as he caught his breath.

  "I still have plenty. We took that guy down easily… but there's no telling how hard the next batch will be."

  Ying Xia planted a foot on the dead man's back and yanked her spear free with a triumphant grunt. "Phew, that was easy!" she declared, a wide, proud grin on her face.

  "Luckily my technique with the spear paid off!"

  Ma Niu’s eyes squinted, a look of profound suspicion on his face.

  "I've never heard of such a technique. And Stage 11? There's no way there are up to eleven stages for that."

  Ying Xia simply rubbed her nose with the back of a grimy hand, looking away as a soft, almost imperceptible giggle escaped her lips.

  Bi Kan was a ghost in the undergrowth, his presence a whisper against the rustling leaves. From his concealed position in the dense bushes, his gaze swept over the grim tableau.\

  The dead scout lay in a quickly darkening pool of his own blood, a testament to his companions' brutal efficiency.

  "Good," he murmured, his breath a faint cloud in the cool air. "They took care of that one rather fast."

  His satisfaction was fleeting, replaced by a cold, sharp focus. He could already feel the ripples in the world's Qi, the subtle disturbance of more figures approaching.

  "The others are coming…"

  Closing his eyes, he let the power of the Eye of the Soaring Falcon talisman wash over him, his consciousness expanding, soaring above the canopy.

  The world became a map of shimmering auras. He could feel the exhausted but stable lights of Gu Moyu’s group, but his attention was immediately snagged by a new presence, a pressure that was different from the others, heavier, denser, the physical weight of a tempered body.

  A Body Tempering Realm expert… Stage 3? How scary.

  The realization was a jolt of cold caution.

  And a swordsman, too. Luckily, he's the only one of that caliber… the others can be taken care of.

  His hand slowly balled into a fist, an almost imperceptible wisp of steam, the first sign of his incomplete Boar Charge technique, venting from his skin before dissipating.

  His plan crystallized, sharp and dangerous. We'll only get one chance. We'll all die if this fails…

  A few hundred feet away, Hao Xua leaned against the gnarled trunk of an ancient tree, his head tilted, his arms crossed as he stared into the oppressive green of the forest. "What's taking him so long?" he asked, his voice a low, impatient growl. "He said he saw something."

  The men behind him snickered. "Well, boss, before he left, he said it'd be a great help if his eyes weren't deceiving him."

  Xua turned, a flicker of irritation in his gaze. "Find him. We can't slow down." His expression turned dark, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper filled with a deep, ancient hatred. "I don't want to see my father killed by some random sect fiend. He deserves a much slower… and agonizing death." He raised a hand, popping out three fingers. His men nodded, and a small group detached themselves, melting into the woods in the direction Gu Moyu and the others had last been seen.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  High above them, perched silently in the canopy, Bi Kan watched them go. He had threaded impossibly close, a spider on a thread hanging over a nest of vipers. He doesn't seem so simple, Bi Kan observed, his earlier confidence tempered by the man’s casual, yet absolute, command. It's a bit tricky. Should I just ambush him here?

  As the thought crossed his mind, a faint pulse of steam once again vented from his body, a subconscious preparation for the Boar Charge.

  Down below, Hao Xua froze. His head snapped up, his gaze piercing the dense foliage with an inhuman sharpness. The leaves rustled, a sound that was not made by the wind. In a motion too swift to be tracked, Xua’s hand blurred, and a small, dark dagger shot into the air with immense speed.

  SHINK!

  A small bird fell from the canopy, the dagger buried to the hilt in its tiny chest. It landed on the forest floor with a soft, final thud. A cloaked man stepped forward, unsheathed his own blade, and split the dead bird in half with a single, practiced motion.

  "Were you hungry, boss?" he asked, a sycophantic grin on his face.

  A small, cold smile came from Xua. "Fuck off, idiot."

  The rest of the men cleared their throats, avoiding their leader’s gaze. Hidden in the leaves, Bi Kan’s hand flew to his cheek, a fresh, thin line of crimson welling where a stray splinter of wood, dislodged by the dagger's passage, had grazed him.

  "That was close," he breathed, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. Did he sense me? His eyes landed on the small, broken bird, its wing still twitching as its lifeblood gushed onto the forest floor. He had been a hair's breadth from that being his own fate.

  "His footsteps…" The cloaked swordsman knelt, his gloved fingers tracing the faint outline of a footprint in the soft earth, a silent story of haste and desperation. He rose, his gaze sweeping over the oppressive gloom of the forest. "Make sure to be on guard. Whatever he saw might be dangerous."

  One of his men pulled out a tattered manual of beasts, flipping through the brittle pages with a nervous intensity. The third, however, simply scoffed, a disdainful sound in the quiet woods. "Hmm, we're wasting time. Let's just go head on. Whether it be beast or human, it doesn't matter. There's three of us."

  A small, cold smile touched the lead swordsman's lips. Suddenly, three streaks of brilliant yellow light shot from the bushes, silent and impossibly fast.

  CLANK!

  With a blur of motion, the swordsman’s blade became a whirlwind of steel, deflecting all three projectiles in a shower of sparks. "A hidden atta—"

  His words died in his throat, a choked, wet gurgle. A hand had clamped over his mouth from behind, and a dagger, held in Ma Niu's steady grip, was already buried to the hilt in the soft flesh of his neck.

  "Got you," Ma Niu whispered, the words a soft, final judgment against the man’s ear.

  "Bastard!" one of the other cloaked swordsmans roared, spinning on his heel. His own blade curved upwards in a vicious, retaliatory slash, catching Ma Niu across the arm.

  "Shit!" A streak of crimson painted Ma Niu’s sleeve as he leaped back, clutching the wound.

  "You're a dead man, bastard!" the other swordsman screamed, lunging forward.

  Gu Moyu burst from the bushes, the talisman in his hand already crushed. A faint, ethereal green light coalesced around his fist, forming sharp, spiky fangs of pure Qi between his fingers. He drove his hand into the first swordsman's side. "B-brat!" the man gasped as Gu Moyu pulled his hand free, leaving two gaping, bloody holes in his torso.

  "Fuck…" The final swordsman made haste, his own blade a clean, horizontal slash aimed for Gu Moyu’s head. "An ambush! You have no honor!"

  Gu Moyu smiled, a grim, humorless expression. His eyes met the swordsman’s. "There is no honor in a battle between life or death."

  A glint of brilliant gold stopped the swordsman’s attack in its tracks. Ying Xia’s spear had intercepted the steel blade with a sharp clang, the force of the impact sending a jarring shock up the man's arm. He took a staggered step back, his eyes wide with shock, only to be met by a storm of follow-up strikes.

  SWUSH! SWUSH! SWUSH!

  The dragon-fang head of the spear became a blur, puncturing his chest in a rapid-fire series of three precise, lethal thrusts.

  THUD!

  The swordsman’s knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, his head connecting with the hard stone floor with a final, sickening crunch. Ying Xia whipped her spear, the blood smearing off in a fine, crimson mist. "Your plans are superb, Gu Moyu!"

  "Yeah, I can't even dream of facing these swordsmen head-on." Ma Niu rose to his feet, his hand still clamped over his bleeding arm. His gaze, a mixture of awe and a dawning respect, settled on the distant, unseen figure who had made this all possible. "If it weren't for Bi Kan's instincts, we'd all be dead." The fact that he asked for that talisman… how could he have known? Did he sense enemies coming?

  Miles away, hidden in the highest branches of an ancient oak, Bi Kan’s hand twitched. His eyes, which had been closed in a state of deep, expanded perception, now glowed with a faint, dangerous light. The sword… it wants to be used…

  Deep within the vast, silent ocean of his Soul Sea, the black blade began to vibrate, sending soft, eager ripples across the endless water. It was itching to be held, to cut down everything in its path.

  "Calm down…" Bi Kan whispered, his own hand wrapping around his arm, his fingers digging in as if he could physically restrain the weapon's burgeoning will. "Hah… hah… what if they see?"

  A silent, ethereal chuckle, more a feeling than a sound, rippled from the slumbering form of the celestial wolf spirit. "You don't trust them?"

  The boy's eyes widened, and he grit his teeth. "It's not exactly that… I don't trust the other two, but Xia… I will only endanger her…"

  The wolf then fell back into its deep, indifferent silence.

  "Bastard," Bi Kan seethed, the words a silent thought. "What did I fall into agony for? You've been useless… other than the Soul Sea you gave me."

  Back in the main clearing, Hao Xua’s eyebrow twitched. His shoulders, which had been relaxed and casual, suddenly tensed. His brows furrowed, and his eyes narrowed, his gaze sweeping over the empty forest.

  "What's taking them so long?" he asked, his voice a low growl. He turned to look at his men, at the few who remained, and his teeth ground together. "What the fuck is going on…"

  This feeling of uneasiness… what the hell is it?

  A distant, concussive boom shook the very earth, the shockwave a physical ripple that rustled the leaves and sent a tremor through Wei Zheng’s bones. He ignored it. The sound was a world away, an echo from a battle between titans that had nothing to do with his own desperate struggle. All that mattered was the path ahead, the desperate, singular goal of reaching the Main Fortress.

  He turned, the motion a fluid, desperate pivot, just in time to deflect a flying dagger aimed straight for his head. "You really aren't going to let me go easily, are you?" he breathed, his voice a low, dangerous rasp.

  Zheng swung his own dagger in a downward arc, the clash of steel on steel a sharp, ringing report in the tense air. "You'll die here, little boy," one of the bandits sneered, pressing his advantage. "You can't face us both!"

  As if summoned by his words, another bandit materialized from the shadows, his booted foot landing with a brutal, jarring thud against Zheng’s side. The impact drove the air from his lungs and sent him tumbling to the ground. "Damn it!" he gasped, scrambling back to his feet. "I can't waste time here…"

  His desperate thoughts were a frantic storm. I have just remembered… Yifeng mentioned that his father has someone at the peak of the Body Tempering Realm. His eyes darted towards the source of the distant explosion, where he could feel the clash of two immense auras, a battle that was shaking the very foundations of the valley. "The war has begun…"

  His thoughts stopped abruptly as a downward strike of steel aimed for his eye. He sidestepped, the blade hissing past his face a hair's breadth from blinding him, and in the same motion, threw a hidden dagger from within his cloak.

  "FUCK!" a bandit yelled, his hand flying to his shoulder where the small blade had buried itself. "You're dead meat, brat!"

  Another bandit, moving with a silent, predatory grace, closed the distance from the trees, his own dagger striking at Zheng’s chest. "Shit!" Zheng leaped backwards, but not fast enough. A streak of crimson red was painted across his chest as the blade sliced through his tunic and into his flesh.

  "There's nowhere to run."

  Zheng’s eyes snapped forward. He was surrounded. Three bandits, their faces cruel masks in the dappled sunlight, had formed a tight, inescapable circle around him.

  "Hah… hah…" His breath came in ragged, painful gasps. A heavy, rhythmic thudding began to echo in his ears. Thud… thud… thud. It was his own heart, a frantic, desperate drum against his ribs. Slowly, his hands came to rest on his chest, a single, trembling hand vibrating with the heavy beat.

  "Not yet…" he whispered.

  The small, dormant flame within his Soul Sea, the mysterious power that had awakened in the darkness of the cellar, began to spark erratically. it was a furious, uncontrolled eruption. A massive torrent of crimson flame burst forth through his own meridians. His veins blazed with an inner light, and a visible, searing red aura, hot as a forge, exploded from his small frame.