The Ye Clan estate crouched beneath a starless night, its cracked walls trembling under a wind that carried a low, eerie laugh—not human, but a sound that slithered through the dark. The courtyard lay still, the fire reduced to glowing embers, casting faint shadows over the beast blood staining the earth. Ye Hua stood by the hall's threshold, her hands clutching a broom, her gray eyes wide as she stared into the woods where the laugh had echoed. Ye Qing gripped his spear at the gate, his grizzled face taut, his voice a low growl as he urged Ye Jun and Ye Mei inside. Ye Chen knelt near the barricade, his ward-stone clutched tight, his twisted leg braced against the shaking ground. Ye Ling darted along the western wall, her dagger a silver gleam, her braid snapping with each tense step.
Lin Feng stood atop the gatehouse, his silhouette a dark sentinel against the void. Deng Wei's retreat and the cloaked figure's dark qi had stirred a deeper menace—something ancient, unbound by sect or steel. His muddy-brown eyes pierced the mist, calm yet relentless. Inside, Zhan Tian's divine soul surged, the seal's fracture a molten chasm spilling golden qi into his core. Each clash widened it—a tempest tearing its cage apart, forging this frail shell into a blade of divinity. He tilted his head, the laugh's chill prickling his skin, power coiling within—not yet the god's might of old, but a storm to face the abyss.
Ye Ling vaulted up, her boots skidding on damp stone, her voice a sharp whisper. "That laugh," she said, dagger twitching. "It's not right."
"Old," Lin Feng replied, descending. "Not mortal. It's hunting."
Her grin faltered, then hardened. "Let it try. I'll carve it."
"It'll carve back," he said, meeting her fire with frost. "Get them ready."
The clan rallied in the courtyard, their movements a thread of steel laced with unease. Ye Qing planted his spear, Ye Chen pocketed his stone, and Ye Hua stood with the kids, her broom a makeshift shield. Lin Feng faced them, his presence a steady flame in the dark.
"Something's out there," he said, voice slicing the night. "Not sect, not beast—older. It wants us. We don't yield. We strike."
Ye Qing's grip tightened, his voice rough. "Older? What's that?"
"Trouble," Lin Feng said, eyes glinting. "Woods to slow it, walls to hold. I'll take the lead."
Ye Chen's sharp gaze cut through, his tone probing. "You're not scared. Why?"
"Fear's a chain," Lin Feng said, unyielding. "Move."
The clan sprang into action. Ye Ling darted to the woods, rigging snares with a hunter's haste—barbed twine stretched taut, stakes sharpened to bite. Ye Chen carved wards along the walls, his strokes swift, the air thrumming with faint power. Ye Qing and the kids piled logs into a jagged barricade, their small hands trembling but resolute. Lin Feng worked alone, etching a deeper array into the gate's keystone—a lattice of qi, primal and fierce, pulsing with intent. The seal flared as he channeled power, pain spiking through his ribs, but he pressed on—a trap for the unknown.
The laugh grew—a cold, sharp cackle that clawed at the mind. Shadows shifted in the woods, not Iron Fang's gray but a deeper black, their edges blurring like smoke. A figure emerged—tall, cloaked, its face a pale mask under a tattered hood, eyes hollow pits of void. Its qi pulsed—a dark mist, ancient and wrong, stronger than Deng Wei's, brushing Foundation's peak. Behind it, shapes slithered—three wraiths, their forms flickering, claws of shadow glinting in the faint light.
The cloaked figure halted, its voice a hiss that echoed in the skull. "I am Xu Yin, servant of the Abyss. You've spilled blood, woken us. Give the golden one, or your souls are mine."
Ye Qing stepped forward, spear leveled, his voice a growl. "He's ours. Come take him."
Xu Yin's laugh rang out, a blade of ice. "Take? I'll reap." It raised a hand, and the wraiths surged—a wave of shadow and malice.
Lin Feng stepped beyond the gate, alone. "Hold," he murmured to the clan, then moved forward. The wraiths hit the woods—Ye Ling's snares snapped, barbs slashing shadow, stakes slowing their glide. One hissed, faltering, as her dagger flashed from the dark, cutting mist before she darted back. Ye Chen's wards pulsed, their hum clashing with the wraiths' qi, forcing two to veer. Ye Qing hurled a log, smashing one aside with a crack.
Xu Yin glided through, its hollow eyes locking on Lin Feng. "You shine," it hissed, claws of shadow slashing—a cold arc tearing the air. Lin Feng shifted, the strike grazing his arm, chilling his blood. The seal erupted, golden qi flooding his veins—a wildfire breaking free. He lunged, fist a blur—qi hardening it to steel. Xu Yin blocked, its claw trembling under the blow, a flicker of surprise in its void.
"Bright," Xu Yin rasped, claws slashing again—faster, a storm of dark. Lin Feng wove through, palming a runed stone. He tossed it at Xu Yin's feet—the array flared, a cage of force gripping its legs. Xu Yin snarled, dark qi surging to shatter it, but Lin Feng struck its chest—a golden pulse cracking bone-like mist.
The wraiths pressed the gate, claws raking the barricade. Ye Ling darted out, her dagger slashing shadow, a hiss of pain echoing as she ducked back. Ye Chen's sling cracked, a stone piercing a wraith's form, dispersing it into mist. Ye Qing roared, spearing another, his spear shivering as it pierced shadow. Ye Mei peeked from the hall, clutching a rock— "Now!" Lin Feng shouted. She hurled it, small but fierce, striking Xu Yin's hood. It flinched, and Ye Ling pounced, her dagger slashing its arm—a wisp of dark qi bleeding out.
Xu Yin's claws flared, shadow coiling—a peak Foundation surge. Lin Feng met it, the seal's golden tide roaring—pain searing his core as it split wider. He ducked, striking its arm—a sharp snap—and Xu Yin staggered, its claw faltering. The dark qi lashed out, a tendril aiming for his heart. He caught it bare-handed—qi a shield against the icy burn—golden light flaring bright. He yanked, pulling Xu Yin forward, and struck its chest—a golden burst hurling it back into the woods.
The wraiths screeched, retreating with their master. Xu Yin rose, its hiss a promise. "The Abyss sees you, golden one. We'll return." It vanished, shadow swallowing it whole.
The Ye Clan erupted—Ye Ling's fierce cheer, Ye Qing's booming laugh, Ye Chen's stunned nod. Lin Feng turned, the golden qi fading, his arm chilled but steady, breath ragged from the strain.
Ye Qing clapped his shoulder, grinning. "You're a damn blaze, lad! Sent that ghost running!"
Ye Ling wiped her dagger, her eyes wild. "That thing bled shadow—you're unreal!"
Ye Chen limped forward, his voice sharp. "You broke something ancient. What was it?"
Lin Feng shook his arm, shrugging. "Old trash. Trash falls easy."
That night, the clan huddled in the hall, the fire roaring with scavenged wood. Ye Hua pressed a rag to Lin Feng's chilled arm, her voice soft. "You're our light," she said, tears welling. "We'd be lost without you."
"Light burns," he said, letting her tend it. "We're growing stronger."
Ye Ling sat close, her tone low. "You glowed—bright as dawn. Don't dodge."
He met her gaze, firm. "Stay sharp. You'll see."
She smirked. "Always."
Later, alone by the gate, Lin Feng knelt, tracing the keystone's fading array. The seal's fracture burned—a golden maelstrom he could barely contain. Xu Yin's dark qi had torn it wider—an ancient spark clashing with a god's essence. He guided the power, forging his frame—muscles tightening, pain a crucible.
Ye Chen joined him, his shadow faint. "That wasn't just old," he said, blunt. "It knew you."
Lin Feng rose, meeting his eyes. "It knows power. We'll face it."
Ye Chen's lips quirked—a spark of resolve. As silence fell, a distant rumble shook the earth—not shadow, but steel. Lin Feng's head snapped up—red-and-gold banners flickered on the horizon, Lin Clan colors, marching closer.