The Ye Clan estate trembled under a dusk sky streaked with blood-red clouds, the air thick with the musk of rain-soaked earth and something darker—something primal. The ground quivered, a low rumble that rattled the cracked stones and sent ripples through the puddles in the courtyard. Ye Hua stood frozen by the fire, her hands clutching a ladle, her gray eyes wide as she stared toward the woods where the roars had erupted. Ye Qing gripped his spear, his grizzled face taut, barking at Ye Jun and Ye Mei to drop their twigs and get inside. Ye Chen paused mid-etching, his ward-stone slipping from his fingers, his twisted leg trembling as he braced against a log. Ye Ling sprinted from the barricade, her dagger drawn, her braid swinging wildly as she scanned the shadows.
Lin Feng stood at the gate, his silhouette a dark pillar against the fading light. Huo Shan's defeat had sharpened the Ye Clan's resolve, but this new threat dwarfed the Iron Fang's steel—a primal force stirred by blood and chaos. His muddy-brown eyes narrowed, piercing the mist, calm yet unyielding. Inside, Zhan Tian's divine soul thundered, the seal's fracture a molten abyss spilling golden qi into his core. Each clash widened it—a storm breaking its bonds, forging this mortal shell into a blade of divinity. He tilted his head, the tremor vibrating through his boots, the power surging within—not yet the god's might of old, but a tempest to face the wild.
Ye Ling skidded to his side, her breath sharp, her dagger glinting. "That's no sect," she said, voice low and fierce. "What's out there?"
"Beasts," Lin Feng replied, his tone steady. "Big ones. Hungry."
Her grin flickered, wild and tense. "Finally, something worth cutting."
"They'll cut 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 dread. Ye Qing planted his spear, Ye Chen retrieved his stone, and Ye Hua herded the kids into the hall, her voice a whip despite the quake in her hands. Lin Feng faced them, his presence a steady anchor amid the shaking earth.
"Beasts are coming," he said, voice slicing through the roars. "Not men—monsters. They want blood. We don't break. We bleed them."
Ye Qing's grip tightened, his voice a growl. "Monsters? What kind?"
"Big enough to crush us," Lin Feng said, eyes glinting. "Woods to slow them, walls to hold. I'll take the front."
Ye Chen's sharp gaze flicked up, his tone cutting. "Always you. Why not run?"
"Running's death," 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 frantic but precise, the air buzzing with unseen 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, primal and raw, pulsing with intent. The seal flared as he channeled power, pain lancing through his spine, but he gritted his teeth—a snare for the savage.
The earth shook harder, trees snapping in the distance like brittle bones. A roar tore the air—deep, guttural, a sound that clawed at the soul. Ye Jun stumbled back, his voice a squeak. "They're huge! Coming now!"
Lin Feng's blood surged—not fear, but a hunter's thrill. "Positions," he said, voice steel. The clan scrambled—Ye Qing at the gate, Ye Ling beside him, Ye Chen behind the barricade, sling loaded. Ye Hua peeked from the hall, a broom in hand, her jaw set.
Lin Feng stepped beyond the gate, alone. The woods exploded—massive shapes burst through, their roars a chorus of fury. Three beasts loomed, each a nightmare of muscle and fang: Ironhide Boars, their tusks curved like scythes, hides glinting like dull steel, qi rippling faintly—Spirit Beast rank, low-tier but lethal. Their eyes glowed crimson, locked on the estate, hunger driving their charge.
Ye Qing shouted, spear raised. "What in the hells are those?"
"Death if you falter," Lin Feng called back, stepping forward. He flicked his wrist, scattering runed stones in a wide arc. The air shivered, and the lead boar stumbled, hooves snared by wards, crashing into the mud with a bellow. Its kin roared, charging past, tusks gleaming.
Lin Feng met the second, qi surging—the seal's fracture splitting wide, golden light flooding his veins. Pain seared his core, but he channeled it, dodging a tusk that gouged the earth. His fist struck its flank—qi hardening his knuckles to iron—a dull thud rippling through its hide. The beast squealed, lurching aside, but its mate swung, tusks slashing for his chest.
He rolled, mud splashing, and palmed a stone. A flick sent it cracking into the beast's eye—a wet pop—and it roared, thrashing blindly. The gate shuddered as the first boar rose, charging the barricade. Ye Ling leapt forward, her dagger slashing its snout—blood sprayed, but it barreled on, splintering logs. Ye Qing thrust his spear, piercing its shoulder, the shaft bending under its weight. Ye Chen's sling cracked, a stone smashing its ear, slowing its rampage.
The second boar turned on Lin Feng, tusks swinging wide. He ducked, striking its leg—a sharp snap—and it stumbled, squealing. Ye Mei peeked from the hall, clutching a rock— "Now!" Lin Feng shouted. She hurled it, small but true, striking its snout. The beast flinched, and Ye Ling darted in, her dagger sinking into its neck—a gush of blood staining the mud.
The third boar roared, charging Lin Feng, qi pulsing stronger—a peak low-tier spark. The seal erupted, golden qi breaking free—a tempest unleashed. He met it head-on, catching a tusk bare-handed—qi a shield against the steel-like edge. Pain flared, blood trickling from his palm, but he twisted, hurling the beast aside. It crashed into a tree, splintering bark, and he lunged, driving a fist into its skull—a golden pulse caving bone. The boar collapsed, twitching, dead.
The first beast broke through, slamming the gate—wood groaned, wards flickering. Ye Qing roared, spear piercing its flank, while Ye Chen's stones rained down, cracking its hide. Ye Ling danced around it, her dagger a blur, slashing tendons. Ye Jun tossed a stick, 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. It crumpled, 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 storm, lad! Smashed 'em like flies!"
Ye Ling wiped her dagger, her eyes blazing. "Those pigs didn't stand a chance. You're a monster—I'm sold."
Ye Chen limped forward, his voice sharp. "You killed Spirit Beasts bare-handed. That's no wanderer's trick."
Lin Feng shook blood from his hands, shrugging. "They were 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 blade," she said, tears welling. "We'd be meat without you."
"Blades cut," he said, letting her bind them. "We're forging sharper."
Ye Ling sat close, her tone low. "You glowed—gold, bright as the sun. Don't dodge it."
He met her gaze, firm as rock. "Stay with me. You'll understand."
She smirked. "I'm in."
Later, alone by the gate, Lin Feng knelt, tracing the keystone's fading array. The seal's fracture burned in his mind—a golden maelstrom he could barely contain. The boars' crude qi had torn it wider—a primal spark clashing with a god's essence. He guided the power, forging his frame—bones hardening, pain a tempering flame.
Ye Chen joined him, his shadow faint. "You're not mortal," he said, blunt. "Not anymore."
Lin Feng rose, meeting his eyes. "I'm what we need. Rise with me."
Ye Chen's lips quirked—a spark of hunger. As silence settled, a low hum rose—not beasts, but qi, sharp and cold. Lin Feng's head snapped up—a gray-robed figure crested the hill, flanked by shadows, their banners snapping in the wind—Iron Fang, and something darker.