The moment stretched, taut as a bowstring, as Chun Shu fought to steady her breath. The air seemed to grow heavier, as if the clearing itself held its breath, awaiting the next move.
Chun Hong, emboldened by his comrades’ hums of agreement, sneered. “No tricks will save you now, stranger,” he snickered. “You’re either with her or against her. And if you’re against us—”
He didn’t finish.
The figure moved.
It wasn’t a shift so much as a flicker, an imperceptible blur that left Chun Shu blinking, disoriented. A ripple of air crackled around him, the faint scent of ozone sharp in the stillness. One moment, the figure stood at the edge of the clearing. The next, he was beside one of Chun Hong’s allies, his hand gripping one of the best Clan disciple’s shoulder with a gentleness that belied the growing terror on the young man’s face.
"No…" one of the other powers' disciples croaked, his voice strangled by fear.
The figure spoke, his voice low and cold. “You were said to leave.”
The air warped with a sizzling hum as a pulse of unseen force radiated from his hand. The disciple crumpled, unconscious before he hit the ground. Chun Hong’s confidence shattered as the figure straightened, his hood tilting back just enough to reveal hollow, sunken eyes that seemed to pierce the very soul.
“Leave!” The figure said again, his voice resonating with a finality that seemed to strike at their core.
The remaining followers hesitated, their bravado wavering. But Chun Hong, ever the schemer, wasn’t done. With a snarl, he barked an order, and two of his companions, the strongest ones in the group, surged forward, weapons drawn, their Qi flaring in an attempt to overwhelm the stranger.
It was over in an instant.
Lightning flashed from the air around the figure, the sound of thunder reverberating like a drumbeat as the ground trembled beneath their feet. The attackers were thrown back, their cries cut short as they hit the ground, their bodies charred by the summoned lightning. Their weapons clattered uselessly beside them, smoking as though they had been struck by a bolt from the heavens themselves.
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Chun Shu’s pulse raced as she watched the scene unfold. She couldn’t sense any cultivation from the figure, yet his control over the battlefield was absolute.
Finally, Chun Hong’s resolve broke. With a curse, he turned and fled, the remaining disciples of various Clans scrambling after him. Their retreat was clumsy, a far cry from the confident ambush they had planned.
When the last of them disappeared into the forest, silence reclaimed the clearing.
Chun Shu stood frozen, blade drawn as she saw the results, but trembling in her grip. The figure turned toward her, and for the first time, she saw his face clearly. His features were sharp and angular, his skin pale as moonlight. There was a strange timelessness to him, as though he existed outside the bounds of mortality, even if he appeared as a battered middle-aged man with white hair.
“You should leave,” he said, his voice softer now, though no less commanding.
Chun Shu swallowed hard, forcing herself to find her voice. “I… I can’t.”
The figure regarded her momentarily, then glanced at the Qi Spring. A brief pulse of static seemed to flicker between them as if the very air hummed with a silent promise. “You seek strength,” he said, as though reading her thoughts.
She nodded, her gaze dropping to the shimmering water. “I need to break through. If I don’t—” Her voice faltered, the weight of her predicament threatening to crush her. “If I don’t, I’ll lose everything.”
The figure was silent, his expression unreadable. Then he stepped aside, gesturing toward the spring. “Then take it. But know this: power gained in desperation often comes at a cost.”
Chun Shu hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to question him, to ask who he was and why he had helped her. But time was short, and the Dark Days loomed.
She knelt at the basin's edge, her hands trembling as she cupped the glowing water. A crack of thunder split the sky above, like the heavens themselves were responding to her decision. The moment it touched her lips, a searing heat coursed through her veins, and her vision blurred.
As the energy of the Qi Spring surged through her, Chun Shu felt her cultivation begin to rise, the bottleneck she had struggled against cracking under the onslaught. Yet, in the back of her mind, the figure’s warning echoed, a shadow over her triumph.
When the process was complete, and the spring’s glow dimmed to nothing, she rose, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She had done it—she had broken through to the Warrior Lord realm.
But as she turned to thank the figure, she found the clearing empty.
A final gust of wind howled through the trees as if carrying the weight of his presence. The forest, once oppressive, now seemed eerily quiet. Chun Shu’s gaze lingered on the spot where the figure had stood, a chill running down her spine.
Unbeknownst to her, the journey to pay the cost of her newfound strength was only beginning.