The Ye Clan estate braced beneath a dawn sky streaked with gold and crimson, the air thick with the hum of blazing qi and the distant echo of Tian Xu's mocking laugh from the night before. The courtyard buzzed with tension, the fire crackling weakly as Ye Hua stitched a torn cloak, her gray eyes darting to the horizon where red-and-gold banners fluttered beneath a golden eagle soaring with a storm of qi. Ye Qing stood at the gate, his spear a steady anchor, his grizzled voice barking at Ye Jun and Ye Mei to pile logs higher. Ye Chen knelt by the barricade, etching a ward into a chipped stone, his twisted leg braced but his focus unyielding. Ye Ling prowled the western wall, her dagger a restless gleam, her braid snapping with each sharp turn.
Lin Feng stood atop the gatehouse, his silhouette a dark blade against the blood-streaked light. Tian Xu's retreat had tempered the Ye Clan's will, but the golden eagle—his sworn brother's blazing emblem—stirred a fire of defiance and old scars. His muddy-brown eyes pierced the distance, 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 breaking its bonds, forging this frail shell into a weapon of vengeance. He tilted his head, the eagle's screech vibrating through the air, power surging within—not yet the god's full might, but a tempest to face his betrayer's pride.
Ye Ling vaulted up, her boots crunching on damp stone, her voice a low growl. "That bird," she said, dagger spinning. "Tian Xu's again?"
"His claw," Lin Feng replied, descending. "With the Lin Clan. They're here to crush us."
Her grin flashed, fierce and wild. "Let's pluck it, then."
"It'll claw deep," he said, meeting her fire with frost. "Get them ready."
The clan rallied in the courtyard, their movements a thread of steel through their dread. Ye Qing planted his spear, Ye Chen pocketed his stone, and Ye Hua stood with the kids, her hands clenched tight. Lin Feng faced them, his presence a steady flame in the rising storm.
"Lin Clan's back," he said, voice slicing the air. "With Tian Xu's eagle. They want us broken. We don't bend. We burn them."
Ye Qing's grip tightened, his voice rough. "An eagle? What's that mean?"
"His pride," Lin Feng said, eyes glinting. "Woods to slow them, walls to hold. I'll take the front."
Ye Chen's sharp gaze cut through, probing. "It's strong. Why keep coming?"
"To bury me," 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. 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 steady despite the screech. Lin Feng worked alone, etching a deeper array into the gate's keystone—a lattice of qi, raw and fierce, pulsing with intent. The seal flared as he channeled power, pain spiking through his chest, but he pressed on—a trap for the bold.
The screech sharpened—a piercing cry that shook the leaves. The golden eagle swooped low, its wings blazing with qi—Spirit Beast rank, high-tier, its talons glinting like molten steel. Below it marched twenty Lin Clan warriors in red-and-gold armor, their qi a disciplined storm—Core Formation peaks, some brushing Foundation's edge. At their head strode Lin Mei, her frost-edged beauty hardened by rage, her whip coiled at her hip, qi surging—Core Formation peak. Beside her walked a black-robed figure, his qi a cold void—Foundation Establishment, early-stage. Zhao Kun, his staff whispered, its tip pulsing with shadow.
Lin Mei halted before the woods, her voice ice. "Trash! You shamed us again. Tian Xu's eagle will tear you apart—I'll bind what's left!"
Ye Qing stepped forward, spear leveled, his voice a snarl. "He's ours. Come try."
Lin Mei's lips curled, a faint sneer. "Try? I'll flay you!" She cracked her whip, qi flaring—a frost-laced arc splitting the air. The eagle screeched, diving toward the gate.
Lin Feng stepped beyond the gate, alone. "Hold," he murmured to the clan, then faced them. The warriors charged, a tide of steel and qi. He flicked his wrist, scattering runed stones in a wide arc. The air shivered, and five stumbled, legs snared by wards, crashing into the mud with curses. Ye Ling's snares snapped in the woods, barbs slashing armor, stakes tripping boots—three more fell, blood staining the earth.
The eagle swooped, talons aiming for Lin Feng's chest. He ducked, the strike grazing his shoulder, and lunged—qi surging, the seal's fracture splitting wide, golden light flooding his veins. Pain seared his core, but he struck its wing—qi hardening his fist to steel—a dull thud rippling through its feathers. The eagle screeched, veering aside, and Lin Mei's whip lashed out, a frost arc striking his side.
Lin Feng caught it bare-handed—qi a shield against the sting—golden light flaring bright. He yanked, pulling Lin Mei forward, and kicked her shin—a crack dropping her to one knee. "Still weak," he said, voice a quiet taunt. Zhao Kun's staff swung, shadow qi flaring—early-stage Foundation power, a void-like storm. Lin Feng met it, the seal's golden tide roaring—pain a forge as it split wider. He dodged, striking Zhao Kun's arm—a sharp snap—and the man reeled, staff faltering.
The warriors pressed the gate, blades and shadows hammering the barricade. Ye Ling darted out, her dagger slashing a throat, blood spraying as she ducked back. Ye Chen's sling cracked, a stone smashing a helm with a clang. Ye Qing roared, spearing a gut, his spear bending under the strain. Ye Mei peeked from the hall, clutching a rock— "Now!" Lin Feng shouted. She hurled it, small but fierce, striking the eagle's beak as it dove again. It flinched, and Ye Ling pounced, her dagger slashing its wing—a golden feather falling.
The eagle's qi surged—high-tier Spirit Beast power flaring, a blazing storm. Lin Feng met it, the seal's golden tide breaking free—pain a crucible as it split fully open. He leapt, catching a talon bare-handed—qi a shield against the molten sting—golden light blazing. The seal roared, its fracture breaking wider, and he twisted, hurling the eagle aside. It crashed into the woods, splintering trees, and he lunged, striking its skull—a golden pulse cracking bone. The eagle screeched, its golden eyes dimming.
Lin Mei roared, whip flaring—peak Core qi surging, a frost storm. Lin Feng dodged, striking her chest—a golden burst hurling her back into her guards, toppling them. Zhao Kun charged, staff swinging, qi desperate. Lin Feng sidestepped, driving a palm into his jaw—a crack dropping him to the dirt, out cold.
The warriors faltered, half down, the rest retreating with the eagle's limp form. Lin Mei staggered up, her voice a hiss. "Tian Xu will end you, worm!" She fled, dragging Zhao Kun with her, their banners trailing in the dust.
The Ye Clan erupted—Ye Ling's wild cheer, Ye Qing's booming laugh, Ye Chen's stunned grin. Lin Feng turned, the golden qi fading, his side bleeding but his stance firm.
Ye Qing thumped his back, grinning. "You're a damn cyclone, lad! Smashed that bird flat!"
Ye Ling wiped her dagger, her eyes blazing. "That eagle's done—you're a beast!"
Ye Chen limped forward, his voice sharp. "Tian Xu's pet. You broke it."
Lin Feng pressed a hand to his side, shrugging. "It overestimated itself. That's its fall."
That night, the clan huddled in the hall, the fire roaring with looted wood. Ye Hua bound Lin Feng's wound, her voice soft. "You're our storm," she said, tears brimming. "We'd be ash without you."
"Storms rise," he said, letting her tend it. "We're forging tougher."
Ye Ling sat close, her tone low. "You glowed—gold, bright as fire. Don't dodge."
He met her gaze, steady. "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 leash. The eagle's qi had torn it wider—Tian Xu's pride clashing with a god's essence. He guided the power, forging his frame—muscles hardening, pain a tempering flame.
Ye Chen joined him, his shadow faint. "He's relentless," he said, blunt. "What's next?"
Lin Feng rose, meeting his eyes. "Him. Face to face."
Ye Chen's lips quirked—a spark of resolve. As silence fell, a low hum rose—not beastly, but sharp and cold. Lin Feng's head snapped up—a black-robed army crested the hill, Tian Xu at their head, his golden eyes blazing, a dark blade in hand, its qi a void-like storm pulsing with intent.