The Ye Clan estate quaked beneath a dusk sky ablaze with gold and ash, the air thick with the roar of infernal qi and the fading echoes of Liang Feng's retreat. The courtyard pulsed with tension, the fire spitting embers as Ye Hua clutched a patched cloak, her gray eyes wide with dread at the hill where a golden-robed figure stood, his qi a blazing inferno casting long, flickering shadows. Ye Qing gripped his spear at the gate, his grizzled face etched with strain, his voice a growl as he urged Ye Jun and Ye Mei to huddle behind the barricade. Ye Chen knelt by the western wall, his ward-stone clutched tight, his twisted leg braced as the earth trembled faintly. Ye Ling prowled the gatehouse, her dagger a restless spark, her braid snapping with each tense stride.
Lin Feng stood atop the gatehouse, his silhouette a dark blade against the fiery light. Liang Feng's defeat had honed the Ye Clan's resolve, but this golden-robed figure—his qi a storm of divine fury—promised a clash beyond mortal limits. His muddy-brown eyes pierced the horizon, calm yet relentless. Inside, Zhan Tian's divine soul surged, the seal shattered, golden qi a boundless tide within his veins. Each battle had forged this frail shell into a weapon of divinity, now burning bright. He tilted his head, the rumble vibrating through the stones, power thrumming within—nearing the god's might of old, ready to defy the heavens once more.
Ye Ling dropped beside him, her boots thudding on the earth, her voice a sharp hiss. "Golden robes," she said, dagger trembling. "Another one?"
"Crimson Order," Lin Feng replied, descending. "Higher than the last. He's here to kill."
Her grin flashed, fierce but strained. "Let's burn him down, then."
"He'll burn hotter," he said, meeting her fire with frost. "Get them ready."
The clan rallied in the courtyard, their movements a thread of steel laced with exhaustion. 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 roaring dusk.
"The Order's back," he said, voice cutting the air. "Stronger—deadlier. They want me gone. We don't break. We bury them."
Ye Qing's grip tightened, his voice rough. "Worse than the silver one?"
"Far worse," Lin Feng said, eyes glinting. "Woods to slow his dogs, walls to hold. I'll take him."
Ye Chen's sharp gaze cut through, probing. "He's a monster. You sure?"
"He's my prey," Lin Feng said, unyielding. "Move."
The clan surged into action. Ye Ling darted to the woods, checking snares with a hunter's haste—barbed twine taut, stakes firm. 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 determined. Lin Feng worked alone, reinforcing the gate's keystone array—a lattice of qi, golden and primal, pulsing with intent. The unleashed power flowed freely, his frame a conduit for divinity.
The rumble swelled—a deep, fiery roar that scorched the air. The golden-robed figure descended, his qi a blazing inferno—Golden Core realm, late-stage, a tier above Liang Feng. His face was stern, framed by golden hair, his eyes glinting with divine fury. His voice boomed, resonant and unyielding. "Zhan Tian, fallen god. I am Jin Huo of the Crimson Order. Your defiance stains the heavens—your end is now."
Ye Qing shouted back, spear raised, his voice cracking. "He's ours! Come take him!"
Jin Huo's lips curled, a faint smirk. "Take? I'll incinerate." He raised a hand, qi flaring—a golden flame roaring forth. Behind him charged twelve warriors in golden-trimmed robes, their qi a disciplined blaze—Foundation Establishment peaks, swords and spears aglow with runes.
Lin Feng stepped beyond the gate, alone. "Hold," he murmured to the clan, then faced Jin Huo. The warriors hit the woods—Ye Ling's snares snapped, barbs slashing robes, stakes tripping boots. Three stumbled, cursing, as her dagger flashed from the shadows, nicking a throat before she darted back. Ye Chen's wards pulsed, slowing the rest, their steps faltering. Ye Qing hurled a log, smashing a shoulder with a crack.
Jin Huo strode through, his golden qi a storm of flames—late-stage Golden Core power searing the earth. He lunged, a fist wreathed in fire striking for Lin Feng's chest. Lin Feng shifted, the strike grazing his shoulder, and countered—qi surging, golden light flooding his veins, a tide unbound. Pain was gone; power was his. He struck Jin Huo's arm—qi hardening his fist to steel—a sharp thud rippling through the warrior's frame. Jin Huo's smirk faltered, shock flickering in his eyes, and he swung again—faster, a torrent of flames.
Lin Feng wove through, palming a runed stone. He tossed it at Jin Huo's feet—the array flared, a cage of force gripping his legs. Jin Huo snarled, qi surging to shatter it, but Lin Feng struck his chest—a golden pulse cracking ribs. The golden-robed figure staggered, his flames dimming briefly.
The warriors pressed the gate, swords and spears hammering the barricade. Ye Ling darted out, her dagger slashing a thigh, 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 Jin Huo's hand as he rose. The fiery qi faltered, and Ye Ling pounced, her dagger slashing his arm—a crimson line blooming.
Jin Huo's qi surged—late-stage Golden Core power flaring, a golden inferno. "You dare challenge the heavens?" he roared, his hand sweeping—a flame wave tearing the earth. Lin Feng met it, golden qi roaring—a boundless tide breaking free. He caught the flames bare-handed—qi a shield against the searing heat—golden light blazing. The power surged, unrestrained, and he twisted, shattering the wave into sparks. He lunged, driving a fist into Jin Huo's jaw—a golden burst dropping him to his knees, blood flecking his lips.
The warriors faltered, half down, their qi wavering. Jin Huo staggered up, his voice a growl. "The Order will crush you, Zhan Tian!" He swung, desperate, a golden blaze slashing wide. Lin Feng sidestepped, striking his chest—a golden pulse hurling him back into his warriors, toppling them like pins. "Crush a god?" Lin Feng said, voice a quiet blade. "You'll burn first."
Jin Huo spat blood, retreating with his enforcers, their golden robes fading into the dusk. 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 settling, his shoulder scorched but his stance firm.
Ye Qing thumped his back, grinning. "You're a damn blaze, lad! Smashed him good!"
Ye Ling wiped her dagger, her eyes blazing. "He's running—you're unreal!"
Ye Chen limped forward, his voice sharp. "Golden Core, late-stage. You broke him."
Lin Feng pressed a hand to his shoulder, shrugging. "He overestimated his fire. That's his fall."
That night, the clan huddled in the hall, the fire roaring with scavenged wood. Ye Hua bound Lin Feng's scorched shoulder, her voice soft. "You're our storm," she said, tears brimming. "We'd be ash without you."
"Storms endure," he said, letting her tend it. "We're rising higher."
Ye Ling sat close, her tone low. "You glowed—gold, bright as the sun. 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 golden array—now a mark of his unbound might. The seal was gone, its fracture a memory, replaced by a boundless tide of divine qi. Jin Huo's Golden Core qi had clashed with his—a heavenly flame tempering a god's essence. He guided the power, forging his frame—senses sharpening, strength deepening, a god reborn.
Ye Chen joined him, his shadow faint. "They're not stopping," he said, blunt. "Next one's worse."
Lin Feng rose, meeting his eyes. "Let them come. I'll be worse."
Ye Chen's lips quirked—a spark of resolve. As silence fell, a low hum rose—not fire, but thunder and shadow. Lin Feng's head snapped up—a white-robed figure crested the hill, qi a crackling storm, eyes glinting with cold divinity, flanked by a score of warriors, their Crimson Order banners snapping like thunderclaps.