Dawn came quickly—

  so quickly it felt cruel.

  The first ray of light pierced the clouds

  as a deep, lingering horn echoed from the foot of the mountain.

  The signal to attack.

  The forces of the Seven Great Sects surged upward

  like a black tide.

  Banners snapped in the wind.

  Blades caught the morning light.

  Killing intent filled the air.

  Azure Edge disciples formed a sword formation at the mountain gate—

  dozens against hundreds—

  a lone blue reef

  bracing for the impact of a dark wave.

  Aunt Mei pulled Sunri to a loft behind the main hall,

  a vantage point overlooking the front courtyard.

  Pardy had woken.

  He leaned quietly against the window,

  wide eyes fixed on the scene below,

  as if sensing the tension in the air.

  The battle erupted instantly.

  No speeches.

  No declarations.

  The Seven Sects surged forward like a flood.

  Azure Edge’s formation held like stone.

  “Azure Edge Sword Formation—rise!”

  Ye Lingyun stood at the center,

  sword raised.

  The disciples shifted formation at once—

  three to a group,

  backs together forming small triangles,

  small triangles merging into larger ones.

  Sword light flickered.

  Their advance and retreat were precise,

  holding off the first wave.

  Shouts, steel, and screams blended together.

  Blood spread across the bluestone.

  One disciple took a blade to the shoulder,

  fell with a cry,

  and another stepped into his place.

  Another fought with skill,

  wounding three in quick succession—

  but two enemies burst from the side,

  one engaging him head?on,

  the other slicing behind his knee.

  His scream cut through the chaos

  before he was torn apart by blades.

  At the center,

  Ye Lingyun’s sword moved in a tight, unbroken weave.

  His style was unlike the others—

  no flourish,

  no wasted motion.

  Every strike was lethal:

  eyes, throat, heart.

  Where his sword passed,

  someone fell.

  But the Seven Sects had too many masters.

  Five sect leaders closed in from different angles.

  The Iron Fist Sect Master’s punches tore through the air.

  The Flying Sword Sect Master’s blade flickered like a serpent’s tongue.

  The Golden Blade Gang Leader swung a heavy saber in wide arcs.

  Two others wielded strange weapons—

  a chain?spear and a judge’s pen—

  aiming for legs and pressure points.

  The remaining Azure Edge disciples were overwhelmed,

  cut down one by one.

  “Yun’er!”

  Aunt Mei’s breath caught.

  She nearly rushed down.

  Sunri held her back.

  “You’ll only die! There are too many!”

  Then the battle shifted.

  A hidden enemy slipped from the shadows behind Ye Lingyun,

  a silent thrust aimed at his heart.

  A young disciple saw it—

  and threw himself forward without hesitation.

  A wet sound.

  The sword tip burst from the boy’s chest,

  blood sliding down the blade.

  Ye Lingyun turned,

  eyes shaking.

  “Xiao?Chuan.”

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  The boy was only sixteen.

  Blood at his lips,

  breath shallow.

  He lifted his gaze to Ye Lingyun,

  a faint smile forming.

  “Sect Master… sorry… this is as far as I go.”

  His head fell.

  Breath stopped.

  Ye Lingyun’s cry tore through the valley—

  long, raw,

  a sound that made even enemies flinch.

  He laid the body down gently,

  rose with his sword,

  eyes emptied of grief—

  filled only with killing intent

  and a cold resolve to die.

  The sect leaders forced him back

  to the steps before the main hall,

  forming a half?circle.

  “Ye Lingyun!

  Azure Edge colluded with the Demonic Cult—

  the evidence is clear!

  Surrender!”

  The Iron Fist Sect Master roared,

  his voice shaking the tiles.

  He was an old man with a white beard,

  broad?shouldered—

  the master of the thug from yesterday.

  “Evidence?”

  Ye Lingyun laughed coldly,

  blood dripping from his sword tip.

  “My parents died fighting for you at the Demonic Cult stronghold.

  Their bodies aren’t even cold,

  and you come to seize our assets

  and slaughter our disciples.

  This is your ‘righteousness’?”

  “Impudence!”

  the Flying Sword Sect Master snapped.

  “You dare slander the righteous path!”

  “Righteous?”

  Ye Lingyun pointed his sword at them,

  voice hoarse but clear.

  “You think you deserve that word?

  You’re wolves wearing human skin.

  And all seven of you came together—

  afraid the spoils won’t be split evenly?”

  The words hit home.

  The sect leaders’ faces darkened.

  They exchanged glances—

  this boy was as sharp?tongued as the rumors said.

  No wonder Ye Qingshan had wanted him as successor.

  Ye Lingyun continued,

  “Enough.

  At least now I can face my ancestors.”

  He raised his voice,

  letting it carry across the battlefield.

  “To fight all seven sect leaders at once—

  you honor me.”

  It was both mockery and truth.

  Shamed and enraged,

  the seven leaders attacked together.

  “Die!”

  The Iron Fist Sect Master struck first,

  a punch forming a visible shockwave.

  The Flying Sword Sect Master’s blade split into seven cold points,

  aimed at vital spots.

  The Golden Blade Leader swept his saber,

  cutting off retreat.

  The chain?spear lashed low.

  The judge’s pen stabbed high.

  Five strikes, two sword energies—

  seven angles,

  no room to dodge.

  A killing formation.

  No matter how Ye Lingyun moved,

  he would take at least three blows.

  In the loft, Sunri couldn’t watch anymore.

  He shoved the window open,

  pulled the handgun from his waist,

  and fired into the sky.

  Bang!

  The gunshot echoed through the valley,

  startling birds into flight,

  freezing the battlefield for a heartbeat.

  Everyone looked up.

  Sunri held the gun,

  hands shaking,

  voice steady as he could make it.

  “Stop!”

  A brief silence—

  then the Iron Fist Sect Master barked a laugh.

  “So there are accomplices!

  What foreign weapon is that?”

  “A fire?device from the Western Regions,”

  another leader muttered, frowning.

  “Clearly sorcery.

  Azure Edge not only colludes with the Demonic Cult,

  but with foreign heresies!”

  “Take them!”

  The seven leaders surged forward again.

  Sunri felt despair.

  The gunshot hadn’t stopped them—

  it had condemned them further.

  He looked at the so?called righteous men below,

  their twisted expressions,

  and his stomach churned.

  For profit—

  they could invent crimes,

  hunt orphans,

  slaughter the innocent.

  Worse than the undead of the Iron Graveyard.

  At least the undead weren’t hypocrites.

  Ye Lingyun blocked two attacks,

  but the Iron Fist Sect Master’s palm

  landed squarely on his back.

  Blood sprayed.

  He staggered.

  Aunt Mei tried to rush down.

  Sunri held her back.

  “I’ll go!”

  Mini-theater:

  Pardy walked over and patted the author’s leg.

  The author fumed.

  “These people… they’re too awful!”

  Ye Lingyun, standing nearby, added,

  “Yes. But the author is worse.”

  The author glanced at him—

  sword in hand,

  murderous aura rising.

  Maybe it was imagination,

  but the author felt a chill.