Their footsteps thundered against the slick cobblestones, swallowed by the warren of twisting alleyways. The city’s muffled hum faded behind them, replaced by the sharp intake of breath, the erratic pounding of their hearts. Tian Hao and Lin Mei moved as one, their bodies tight with urgency, every muscle coiled, every instinct screaming.
Jiuwei darted ahead, her silver fur a streak of moonlight in the darkness, her paws barely making a sound against the slick cobblestones. She wove effortlessly through the maze of narrow alleys, her body low, every muscle taut with awareness. A pile of broken crates blocked her path, but she sprang off a wooden beam, twisting midair before landing gracefully on the other side. Her ears flicked as she caught the faint scrape of boots behind them, her sharp eyes scanning ahead for an escape. She hesitated only a moment before leaping onto a hanging laundry line, using its sway to launch herself onto a low rooftop.
From above, she caught the glint of steel flashing in the dim light—traps, or worse, waiting enemies. "Left! Then a sharp right!" she hissed, her golden eyes narrowing as she continued to scan for more dangers ahead.
A crash echoed as Tian Hao shoved past a stack of rotting crates, sending them toppling in their wake. A startled cat shrieked and bolted, disturbed from its midnight haunt. Shadows stretched, distorted, as lantern light flickered wildly from windows, into the alley’s tight embrace.
Lin Mei’s breath came in sharp, measured bursts. She spared a glance behind them—their pursuers were gaining. Dark figures surged forward, their silhouettes stark against the alley’s walls. The glint of steel flashed under the lanterns’ wavering glow.
"We need to break line of sight!" Tian Hao growled, his fingers flexing, already weighing their next move. "Jiuwei! Find us a way out!"
Jiuwei’s golden eyes gleamed, her ears flicking as she leapt onto a low rooftop. "Ahead, three turns down—there’s a dead-end, but I see a side passage! If we’re quick, we can lose them there!"
No choice. They surged forward, feet pounding, breath ragged.
They veered sharply around another corner, the sound of their pursuers fading behind them. Tian Hao risked a glance over his shoulder, his pulse hammering. "Did we lose them?"
Lin Mei pressed against the cold brick of an alley wall, catching her breath. "I don't see them."
Jiuwei perched atop a crate, ears flicking as she sniffed the air. "They're close, but we've bought ourselves a moment."
The three of them exchanged glances, the tension thick. Tian Hao exhaled. "Let's keep moving before—"
A slow, deliberate clap echoed from deeper in the alley, the sound unnervingly measured, each slap of palm against palm stretching out longer than the last. The silence that followed was thick, oppressive, as if the very air had grown heavier. Shadows seemed to deepen, warping unnaturally around the narrow space, the dim lantern light struggling to pierce through the encroaching darkness. A faint scuff of a boot against stone broke the quiet, followed by the slow, purposeful shuffle of approaching figures. Then, from the gloom ahead, a voice, rich with mockery, cut through the tension.
"Well played..."
The shadows ahead warped as three figures stepped forward, their dark robes blending into the night. The Iron Talon insignia gleamed under the lantern light, their expressions cold and predatory.
"Well played," the tallest of the three said again. "But you didn't think we'd be that easy to shake, did you?"
Lin Mei's fingers curled around the hilt of her glaive, jaw tightening. Fear clawed at her chest, a whisper of doubt creeping into her mind—was she truly ready for this? "Damn it... they were herding us."
Tian Hao squared his stance, his grip tightening around his flask. "Alright, then. If we can’t run, we fight."
“Traitor!” one of them spat, his gaze fixed on Lin Mei, his voice a venomous hiss that slithered through the tense silence. “You dare betray the Iron Talon? Your blood will stain these stones, and your family’s screams will echo through the night. Perhaps then you’ll understand what it means to break an oath made under the watchful eye of Elder Hui.”
“And you, silkpants,” another sneered, stepping forward, his hulking frame casting an imposing shadow, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of a flanged mace. His face, scarred and weathered, held a cruel amusement, a predatory glint in his eye as he recognized Tian Hao. It was the same brute from the Jade Wager. “Still hiding behind your silks and your daddy’s reputation? A Skyward Lotus’s disgrace doesn't deserve such finery, after all.” He let out a mocking laugh. “This alley will be your grave. A fitting end for gutter trash.”
The third disciple, a wiry man with a shifty gaze, cracked his knuckles, a predatory grin spreading across his face. “We’ll put you both down like the dogs you are,” he hissed.
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The Iron Talon disciples lunged, their movements a blur of motion, their weapons flashing in the dim light. Two of them—the scarred brute and the wiry man—charged towards Tian Hao, their weapons aimed at his chest. Their attacks were swift, brutal, each strike carrying the weight of their sect’s ruthlessness, as though they viewed him as nothing more than a pest to be exterminated—a small obstacle in the way of reclaiming what he had stolen from them, what Lin Mei's betrayal now made both their responsibility.
Tian Hao’s eyes narrowed as his hand flashed to his ring—wine sloshed into his flask—and as the familiar burn coursed through him, igniting the Wine-Fueled Fury, he moved. He wasn't as skilled as them, but he had his techniques, his resilience now sharpened by the dangers he'd faced, his bravado tempered by a cold focus.
Lin Mei, her glaive shimmering like a silver serpent in the moonlight, met the short-sword wielding third disciple’s attack head-on. Her earlier fear and hesitation were gone, replaced by a cold fury—his taunts about her family fueling her rage. Her glaive snapped, her movements precise, controlled, her fury amplified by her Body Refining Stage 8 cultivation, as she met the man's matching stage.
The aley erupted into a whirlwind of chaotic violence, the rhythmic clang of steel echoing off the stone walls. Tian Hao, outnumbered but not completely outmatched, dodged and weaved, his movements erratic, unpredictable, his fists a blur as he deflected blows. The two disciples, though at lower cultivation levels, wielded weapons—a heavy mace and a pair of curved daggers—that made each strike a test of his resilience and agility.
He stumbled, his foot catching on a loose cobblestone, nearly falling before righting himself just in time to avoid the brute’s crushing blow. The heavy mace slammed against the wall, sending shards of stone flying, the force of the impact shaking the very ground beneath their feet.
“Come on, silkpants,” the brute taunted, his voice a guttural roar. “Time to learn some respect. Let's test the fortitude of the 'great' Tian Hao. Are those delicate silks strong enough to hold back the wrath of the Iron Talon?” His every word amplified by the strength his cultivation provided.
Tian Hao grinned grimly as he reached into his spatial ring, retrieving not a weapon, but another flask of wine and a skewer of roasted meat. He could see the confusion and disbelief in his opponents' eyes, and it only fueled his confidence. He took a long swig, savoring the burn as the warmth of the wine and his cultivation spread through his veins. He tore a chunk of meat from the skewer, popping it into his mouth with relish, savoring the flavor as if he were at a leisurely picnic rather than fighting for his life.
The two disciples exchanged incredulous glances.
“Is he… eating?!” the wiry disciple sputtered, momentarily distracted.
“The fool’s mad!” the brute growled, his fury fueled by Tian Hao's nonchalance. “He thinks this is a joke?!”
He charged again, his mace whistling through the air, but his frustration made him slopy, his stance faltering under the intensity of his emotion. He missed, overextending as his attack veered, and his footing uneven as he stumbled.
Tian Hao grinned, taking another bite of meat before dodging to the side with improved agility. The effects of Heavenly Feast Reinforcement were already taking hold, enhancing his speed and resilience. He could feel his muscles tense, the power surging through him.
“I swear, he's mocking us!” the brute roared as Tian Hao continued to eat and drink between attacks.
Meanwhile, Lin Mei's glaive danced in the moonlight, parrying and deflecting her opponent's blows. The clang of metal echoed sharply, each strike a spark of lethal intent. The time for polite retorts was long past.
The battle was a test of skill and will. Lin Mei's pent-up rage fueled her every move, each clash of blades a release for the weight of her oath, the shame she bore, the pain that had weighed on her chest for too long.
She pressed her attack, her glaive's silver tip tracing lines of crimson across her opponent's skin. Her footwork was flawless, driving the Iron Fang disciple back step by step. Each blow was calculated, her movements precise, her fury controlled yet burning fiercely.
Lin Mei spun her glaive with expert precision, keeping her opponent at bay. She couldn't afford to falter—not here, not now. Each strike carried the weight of her training, her grief, and the memories of her family's suffering. The desperation, the rage—each infused her attacks, adding force and purpose.
Lin Mei took several light slashes as the Iron Talon disciple's blade found openings in her defenses. Each cut seared across her skin, the pain sharp but manageable. Her robes were sliced, the blue fabric dampening with blood, yet she refused to yield. Each wound only stoked the fire in her chest, her eyes narrowing with renewed focus as she pushed through the pain, her glaive swinging with even more lethal intent.
With a roar, her glaive sliced through the air, the blade cutting across the man's torso, sending an arc of crimson into the night. The disciple stumbled, realizing too late how outmatched he truly was.
"You think these scratches are the end, Iron Talon’s rat?!" Lin Mei hissed, her voice low, menacing. Blood trickled from her wounds, her stance lowering slightly, but her resolve unbroken. She pressed forward, her glaive a blur of silver under the flickering lanterns. Each blow echoed the fear and pain the Iron Talon had inflicted on her family.
Jiuwei, perched on a nearby rooftop, watched the battles unfold with a growing sense of excitement, her tiny form trembling slightly, each movement, every subtle shift and dodge and blow. Each moment of what might lead to a terrible defeat now merely a stepping-stone towards something she herself had not yet seen but that resonated with the growing power now unleashed, each blow echoing some deeper understanding.
“Yes, yes! That’s it! Show them what you’re made of! Rip them apart!” she hissed, her tiny voice a mere whisper against the backdrop of clashing steel and grunts of pain, as though their battles were a performance meant solely for her amusement.
Her tail twitched with anticipation now for what might come next, her golden eyes gleaming as she watched from her darkened perch, a tiny celestial guardian reveling in the chaos she had, in no small part, helped to unleash. There was pride there too—pride that the 'pups' were gaining strength, learning to stand up for themselves in the harsh, unforgiving world she knew all too well. It pleased her to see them embracing the struggle, becoming worthy of survival and perhaps even greatness.