The air hung thick and still, broken only by the faint crackle of Qi around Bao's clenched fists and the terrified catch in Mei Ling's breath beside Lin Fan. This wasn't the chaotic fear of the Spirit Weasel attack; this was targeted malice, cold and deliberate. Lin Fan felt Mei Ling's fear keenly through their connection, a tremor that threatened to destabilize the focused calm he clung to. But woven within her fear was indignation, a fierce loyalty that pulsed back towards him, refusing to let Bao's threats sever their bond.
"An 'accident'?" Lin Fan repeated, his voice dangerously quiet. The anger he felt wasn't hot and consuming, but cold and sharp, honing his focus. He drew strength not just from the resonance, but from the meaning behind it – Mei Ling's unwavering presence, her belief when no one else offered any. He wouldn't let Bao hurt her or degrade what they shared.
"Step aside, Waste," Bao growled, gesturing impatiently to his lackeys who tensed, ready to move. "This is about putting you back in your negligible place." He took another step forward, reaching out as if to shove Lin Fan aside and perhaps grab Mei Ling.
That was the breaking point. Seeing Bao's hand move towards Mei Ling, the simmering pressure within the resonance snapped. It wasn't a chaotic explosion like before, but a conscious direction of will. Lin Fan didn't think about techniques or Qi circulation; he focused entirely on the immediate threat, on shielding Mei Ling, channeling his protective intent through the resonant link that flared incandescently between them.
As Bao's hand reached forward, Lin Fan moved. The fluidity he'd practiced, born of resonant harmony, surged through him. It wasn't overwhelming speed, but perfect timing, an intuitive understanding of Bao's momentum. He didn't meet the shove head-on. Instead, he pivoted slightly, letting Bao's push glance off his shoulder while simultaneously using his own hand to slap Bao's outstretched arm slightly upward and outward.
The movement was unexpected, fluid, almost effortless. Bao, anticipating clumsy resistance, stumbled forward, his balance completely thrown. Surprise flashed across his face, quickly replaced by sputtering rage. "You-!"
Before Bao could recover, Lin Fan pressed the advantage, guided by the heightened awareness the resonance provided. He stepped into Bao's imbalance, using his shoulder – not with Qi-enhanced force, but with perfectly applied leverage learned instinctively through the resonant flow – to bump Bao hard off his already unstable footing.
Bao yelped, flailing wildly before crashing onto his backside with a heavy thud, identical to his previous humiliation but delivered with a calm precision that was far more unnerving than panicked luck.
The two lackeys, momentarily stunned, finally reacted, lunging towards Lin Fan from either side. They attacked clumsily, relying on basic Qi reinforcement to overwhelm. Lin Fan felt Mei Ling's sharp intake of breath behind him, a spike of fear that, paradoxically, grounded him further. He was their shield. He couldn't falter.
He didn't try to block both attacks simultaneously. Instead, he flowed. Focusing on the resonance, feeling Mei Ling's steadying presence like an anchor, he let the energy guide his limbs. He dodged the first wild swing, letting the disciple's momentum carry him past. Then, without pausing, he ducked under the second disciple's grabbing arm, spinning low and inside the attack. As he came up, he slammed the heel of his palm into the second disciple's exposed ribs – not a devastating blow, but precisely targeted, making the disciple grunt and double over, momentarily winded.
The first disciple circled back, swiping low with a Qi-enhanced kick aimed at Lin Fan's legs. Lin Fan felt it coming, the resonance granting him that split-second precognitive edge. He didn't jump back; he leaped over the low sweep, landing lightly, already turning to face the attacker. The disciple, shocked by the agility displayed by someone with no discernible cultivation, hesitated.
Lin Fan didn't give him time to recover. He closed the distance, employing the simple, direct movements of the basic Verdant Mountain Fist, but infused with the resonant flow. Each parry, each block, each short jab was delivered with unexpected smoothness and timing. He wasn't overpowering the disciple with force, but overwhelming him with continuous, fluid motion, disrupting his rhythm, forcing him onto the defensive.
Bao scrambled back to his feet, his face purple with rage and disbelief. "Useless!" he roared at his struggling lackeys. He gathered his Qi, preparing a more powerful strike.
Lin Fan saw the buildup of energy. He knew he couldn't withstand a direct, Qi-fueled blow from Bao. He needed to end this quickly. He glanced back at Mei Ling for a fraction of a second. Her eyes met his, wide with fear, but also filled with fierce, unwavering trust. That look was everything.
He disengaged from the lackey with a final push, then turned fully to face Bao just as the bully lunged, fist enveloped in a crackling green aura. Lin Fan didn't brace for impact. He did the last thing Bao expected. He advanced, stepping forward into the attack's range, but slightly to the side. As Bao's fist shot past his head, missing by inches, Lin Fan used his opponent's forward momentum. He hooked Bao's leading leg with his own ankle while simultaneously pushing hard against Bao's advancing shoulder.
Trip. Push. Leverage. Flow.
Bao, overcommitted and unbalanced, crashed face-first into the dusty ground, his Qi-enhanced punch dissipating harmlessly into the air. He lay there, spitting dirt, stunned into silence.
The two lackeys froze, staring first at their fallen leader, then at Lin Fan, who stood breathing steadily, his simple robes slightly torn, but his stance firm. He hadn't used any dazzling techniques, hadn't emitted any Qi pressure. He had simply… moved. Moved with an uncanny efficiency and calm that defied explanation. The resonance hummed within him, warm and vibrant, a tangible link to Mei Ling's shaky but relieved presence behind him. He felt drained, the focus required intense, but a quiet triumph surged through the connection.
"Leave," Lin Fan said, his voice clear and cold, cutting through the stunned silence. "Now. And don't bother us again."
Bao pushed himself up slowly, glaring venomously, humiliation warring with a new, unsettling flicker of fear in his eyes. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Without another word, he turned and stalked away, his shoulders slumped in defeat. His lackeys hesitated only a moment before scrambling after him, eager to escape the unnerving presence of the sect's 'Waste' who was clearly anything but.