The Ye Clan estate shuddered beneath a night sky choked with black clouds, the air thick with a primal musk that drowned out the fading echoes of Iron Fang's retreat. The courtyard lay tense, the fire flickering weakly as Ye Hua clutched a patched cloak, her gray eyes wide with dread at the woods where a massive shadow loomed. Ye Qing stood at the gate, his spear a trembling anchor, his grizzled voice barking at Ye Jun and Ye Mei to huddle closer to the hall. Ye Chen knelt by the barricade, his ward-stone clutched tight, his twisted leg braced as the earth quaked beneath him. Ye Ling darted along the western wall, her dagger a restless gleam, her braid snapping with each frantic step.
Lin Feng perched atop the gatehouse, his silhouette a dark sentinel against the void. Gao Jun's defeat had honed the Ye Clan's edge, but this new threat dwarfed sect steel—a primal force, its crimson eyes glowing like twin hellfires. His muddy-brown gaze pierced the dark, calm yet relentless. Inside, Zhan Tian's divine soul roared, the seal's fracture a molten abyss spilling golden qi into his veins. Each battle tore it wider—a storm shattering its prison, forging this frail shell into a blade of divinity. He tilted his head, the rumble vibrating through his bones, power surging within—not yet the god's might of old, but a tempest to face the abyss.
Ye Ling vaulted up, her boots slipping on damp stone, her voice a sharp hiss. "That thing," she said, dagger trembling. "It's huge."
"Abyssal," Lin Feng replied, descending. "Tied to Xu Yin. It's here for us."
Her grin flickered, fierce but strained. "Big target, then. I'll gut it."
"It'll gut 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 terror. Ye Qing planted his spear, Ye Chen pocketed his stone, and Ye Hua stood with the kids, her hands shaking but resolute. Lin Feng faced them, his presence a steady flame in the quaking dark.
"A beast's coming," he said, voice cutting the rumble. "Not mortal—abyssal. It wants blood. We don't break. We bleed it."
Ye Qing's grip tightened, his voice rough. "Abyssal? What's that?"
"Old hunger," Lin Feng said, eyes glinting. "Woods to slow it, walls to hold. I'll take the front."
Ye Chen's sharp gaze flicked up, probing. "You're calm. Why?"
"Panic feeds it," Lin Feng said, unyielding. "Move."
The clan surged into action. Ye Ling darted to the woods, rigging snares with a hunter's haste—barbed twine stretched taut, stakes driven deep into the trembling earth. Ye Chen carved wards along the walls, his strokes frantic but precise, the air buzzing with faint power. Ye Qing and the kids piled logs into a jagged barricade, their small hands trembling but determined. Lin Feng worked alone, etching a deeper array into the gate's keystone—a lattice of qi, raw and primal, pulsing with intent. The seal flared as he channeled power, pain lancing through his spine, but he pressed on—a trap for the monstrous.
The rumble grew—a bone-shaking roar that split the night. Trees snapped like twigs, and a colossal shape burst from the woods—an Abyssal Maw, a beast of shadow and sinew, its maw a gaping void lined with jagged fangs, its hide a shimmering black that drank the light. Crimson eyes glowed, qi pulsing—Spirit Beast rank, mid-tier, a league beyond the Ironhide Boars. Its claws gouged the earth, each step a quake, its roar a wave of dread that clawed at the soul.
Ye Qing shouted, spear raised, his voice cracking. "What in the hells is that?"
"Death if we falter," Lin Feng called back, stepping beyond the gate, alone. The Maw charged, its maw wide—a black wind rushing forth. He flicked his wrist, scattering runed stones in a wide arc. The air shivered, and the beast's front leg snagged, crashing it into the mud with a bellow. Its tail lashed, splintering trees, and it rose, eyes locked on Lin Feng.
Qi surged—the seal's fracture splitting wide, golden light flooding his veins. Pain seared his core, but he lunged, dodging a claw that gouged the earth. His fist struck its flank—qi hardening his knuckles to steel—a dull thud rippling through its hide. The Maw roared, swinging its maw—a bite to swallow him whole. He rolled, mud splashing, and palmed a stone. A flick sent it cracking into its eye—a wet crack—and it screeched, thrashing blindly.
The gate shuddered as the Maw charged, its claws raking the barricade. Ye Ling leapt forward, her dagger slashing its snout—shadow bled, a dark mist hissing, but it swatted her back, splintering logs. Ye Qing thrust his spear, piercing its shoulder, the shaft snapping under its weight. Ye Chen's sling cracked, a stone smashing its ear, slowing its rampage. Ye Jun peeked from the hall, clutching a stick— "Now!" Lin Feng shouted. He hurled it, small but fierce, striking its snout. The Maw flinched, and Ye Ling darted in, her dagger sinking into its neck—a gush of shadow staining the mud.
The Maw's qi flared—mid-tier Spirit Beast power surging, a black storm. Lin Feng met it, the seal's golden tide roaring—pain a forge as it split wider. He leapt, catching a claw bare-handed—qi a shield against the shadow's sting—golden light flaring bright. The seal screamed, its fracture breaking fully free, and he twisted, hurling the beast aside. It crashed into the woods, splintering trees, and he lunged, driving a fist into its skull—a golden pulse caving bone. The Maw screeched, thrashing, its crimson eyes dimming.
The gate groaned as its tail lashed, cracking stone. Ye Qing roared, spearing its flank, while Ye Chen's stones rained down, piercing its hide. Ye Ling danced around, her dagger slashing tendons, shadow bleeding out. Ye Mei tossed a rock, a futile jab, but it drew the beast's eye—Lin Feng seized the moment, leaping onto its back. His qi surged, a golden flare, and he drove both fists down—a thunderous crack splitting its spine. The Maw collapsed, lifeless, the earth stilling.
The Ye Clan erupted—Ye Ling's wild cheer, Ye Qing's booming laugh, Ye Chen's stunned grin. Lin Feng slid off, the golden qi fading, his hands bloodied but steady, breath ragged from the strain.
Ye Qing clapped his shoulder, mud-streaked and grinning. "You're a damn titan, lad! Smashed that thing like a bug!"
Ye Ling wiped her dagger, her eyes blazing. "That beast didn't stand a chance—you're unreal!"
Ye Chen limped forward, his voice sharp. "You killed a mid-tier Spirit Beast. That's no mortal strength."
Lin Feng shook blood from his hands, shrugging. "It was slow. Slow dies easy."
That night, the clan huddled in the hall, the fire roaring with scavenged wood. Ye Hua pressed a rag to Lin Feng's cuts, her voice trembling. "You're our shield," she said, tears welling. "We'd be meat without you."
"Shields hold," he said, letting her bind them. "We're growing stronger."
Ye Ling sat close, her tone low. "You glowed—gold, bright as the sun. Don't dodge."
He met her gaze, firm. "Stay with me. You'll see."
She smirked. "I'm in."
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. The Maw's qi had torn it wider—a primal spark clashing with a god's essence. He guided the power, forging his frame—bones hardening, senses sharpening, pain a crucible.
Ye Chen joined him, his shadow faint. "That wasn't just a beast," he said, blunt. "It was sent."
Lin Feng rose, meeting his eyes. "Xu Yin's work. They're watching."
Ye Chen's lips quirked—a spark of resolve. As silence settled, a low hum rose—not beastly, but sharp and cold. Lin Feng's head snapped up—a gray figure stood on the hill, Iron Fang banner snapping, flanked by shadows, but behind them loomed a cloaked silhouette, its dark qi pulsing like a heartbeat, whispering his name.