The Ye Clan estate quaked beneath a night sky swallowed by inky clouds, the air thick with a primal roar and the chilling hum of shadow qi that drowned out the fading echoes of Wei Chen'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 shape loomed, flanked by black-robed chanters. Ye Qing stood at the gate, his spear a trembling pillar, 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 gripped tight, his twisted leg braced as the earth shuddered. Ye Ling darted along the western wall, her dagger a restless gleam, her braid whipping with each frantic step.
Lin Feng perched atop the gatehouse, his silhouette a dark sentinel against the void. Wei Chen's flight had steeled the Ye Clan's resolve, but the black-robed figures chanting Tian Xu's name—and the beast they summoned—ignited a fire of old rage. His muddy-brown eyes pierced the dark, calm yet relentless. Inside, Zhan Tian's divine soul surged, the seal's fracture a molten abyss spilling golden qi into his veins. Each clash tore it wider—a storm shattering its prison, forging this frail shell into a blade of retribution. He tilted his head, the roar shaking the stones, power surging within—not yet the god's might of old, but a tempest to face his betrayer's pawns.
Ye Ling vaulted up, her boots slipping on damp stone, her voice a sharp hiss. "That thing," she said, dagger trembling. "Another beast?"
"Voidborn," Lin Feng replied, descending. "Tian Xu's gift. It's here for me."
Her grin flickered, fierce but strained. "Big prey, then. 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 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 night.
"A beast's coming," he said, voice cutting the roar. "Voidborn—Tian Xu's work. It wants my head. We don't break. We bleed it."
Ye Qing's grip tightened, his voice rough. "Voidborn? Worse than the last?"
"Far worse," 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. "He's targeting you. Why?"
"Old debts," 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 roar swelled—a guttural bellow that split the night. Trees shattered, and a colossal shape emerged—a Voidborn Titan, a beast of shadow and bone, its maw a jagged abyss, its hide a swirling black that pulsed with void qi. Crimson eyes glowed, qi surging—Spirit Beast rank, high-tier, a step beyond the Abyssal Maw. Its claws raked the earth, each step a quake, its roar a wave of malice. Behind it, six black-robed chanters hummed Tian Xu's name, their qi feeding the beast's fury.
Ye Qing shouted, spear raised, his voice cracking. "That's no beast—it's a nightmare!"
"Nightmares bleed," Lin Feng called back, stepping beyond the gate, alone. The Titan charged, its maw wide—a black wind rushing forth. He flicked his wrist, scattering runed stones in a wide arc. The air shivered, and its front leg snagged, crashing it into the mud with a bellow. Its tail lashed, splintering logs, 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 Titan roared, swinging its maw—a bite to crush him. He rolled, mud splashing, and palmed a stone. A flick sent it cracking into its eye—a wet crack—and it screeched, thrashing wildly.
The gate shuddered as the Titan 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, cracking stone. 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 Titan flinched, and Ye Ling darted in, her dagger sinking into its neck—a gush of shadow staining the mud.
The chanters' hum intensified, their qi flaring—high-tier Spirit Beast power surging, a void 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, striking its skull—a golden pulse cracking bone. The Titan screeched, its crimson eyes flickering.
The chanters pressed forward, their qi lashing out—dark tendrils aiming for Lin Feng. He dodged, striking one down—a golden fist shattering ribs. The gate groaned as the Titan's tail lashed, cracking wards. 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 small 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 Titan collapsed, lifeless, the earth stilling.
The chanters faltered, their hum breaking. Lin Feng turned, golden qi blazing, and charged—fists smashing two more into the dirt, their chants silenced. The survivors fled, their black robes vanishing into the dark.
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, grinning. "You're a damn god, lad! Smashed that thing flat!"
Ye Ling wiped her dagger, her eyes blazing. "That beast was nothing—you're unreal!"
Ye Chen limped forward, his voice sharp. "Tian Xu sent that. He's close."
Lin Feng shook blood from his hands, shrugging. "Let him come. He'll fall."
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 rising higher."
Ye Ling sat close, her tone low. "You glowed—gold, bright as dawn. Don't dodge."
He met her gaze, firm. "Stay with me. 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. The Titan's qi and the chanters' dark power had torn it wider—Tian Xu's malice 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. "He's testing you," he said, blunt. "That beast was a pawn."
Lin Feng rose, meeting his eyes. "Pawns fall. The king's next."
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 figure stood on the hill, clad in black, his qi a void-like storm, golden eyes glinting—Tian Xu himself, smiling faintly.