CRRRACKKK!!!
The heavens split as water and lightning crashed together. Xiu Mei's hammer, swollen with barnacles, exploded in a tidal blast as Han Jie's lightning talismans laced it with golden fury. The qilin's scream was drowned beneath the storm. Its body convulsed as scales split apart, blood and flame bursting outward.
One last shriek tore from its throat before the beast collapsed. Its mighty frame slammed into the ground, shaking the battlefield, smoke curling from its burned hide. Its flames flickered, then guttered out entirely.
The herd roared in despair. But with Xiu Mei's hammer pressing them back, Han Jie's talismans binding their movements, and their pet tigers gnashing their fangs at their flanks, the qilin herd could do nothing but scatter, too broken to challenge further.
The field stank of scorched fur, lightning, and steam.
Above, the true storm raged.
Shi Yang hovered there—not as a man, but as something monstrous. His body had grown into the shape of a dragon forged of crimson water, scales gleaming with wet, bloody light. Horns jutted from his skull like blackened ice. A long tail whipped behind him, each swing splitting the clouds. The air itself trembled beneath his presence, his blood coiling like rivers that fed the storm.
And through it all—his blade whispered.
Cut.
The Rusted Sea Sword hummed in his grip, its corroded edge trembling with hunger.
Cut. Cut. Feed me more. Cut.
Shi Yang's lips curled, but his eyes burned with obsession. The blood that made his form shivered, drawn toward the blade. He thrust the weapon forward, letting the torrents pour into it. Streams of crimson flowed from his body into the rusted metal, feeding its corroded spine.
The sword drank.
And drank.
And still, it drank.
Rust flaked away, only to regrow, each layer sharper than before. Its edge gleamed—not with polished steel, but with a dangerous hunger, jagged and raw. The whispers grew louder.
More. More. CUT.
Shi Yang's chest heaved. His blood-dragon form unraveled, collapsing inward. He staggered midair, his monstrous outline shrinking until he stood once more as something halfway human.
Scales still crawled along his arms and legs, faintly dripping with red light. A long tail lashed behind him, scarlet water dripping from its tip. And from his forehead, two horns curved upward, sharp as blades.
His grip on the sword tightened as the whispers continued to claw at his mind.
"Sharp… yet still rusted," he muttered, gazing at its jagged edge, his voice low and hoarse. The blood dripped from the blade, sizzling as it struck the air.
For a moment, the battlefield fell silent.
Only the sound of his breathing remained—the heavy, ragged breaths of a man who had crossed a threshold into something terrifying.
The air split again with a furious ROAR!!!
The leading qilin, bloodied but unbroken, rose into the sky. Its mane blazed like a furnace, every strand of flame whipping violently as its horns glowed molten gold. Rage and grief twisted its face as it stared down Shi Yang—the blood-soaked dragon-man who had brought it to its current injured state.
Shi Yang's tail lashed behind him. His half-draconic body radiated killing intent, each scale etched with bloody light. The rusted sword vibrated in his grip, screaming in his mind.
Cut. Cut. CUT!
"Come then," he muttered, lips curling into a savage grin. "Let's see whose blood lasts longer."
The qilin's body blurred. It became a streak of fire and lightning, charging straight for him, hooves stomping holes through the sky.
Shi Yang didn't retreat. He thrust his palm forward—the koi that spiraled behind moved around his body in a blazing light, leaping from his arm and exploding into a torrent of crimson flames. The qilin tore straight through it, scales singed, eyes wild.
Their clash shook the heavens.
His rusted sword met the qilin's horn—CLANGGG!!! Sparks burst in every direction. The beast roared, slamming its body into him, hurling him back through the storm. But Shi Yang only grinned wider, his tail snapping out like a whip to coil around its leg and drag it back.
With a savage twist, he yanked the qilin sideways and drove his knee into its chest. Crack. Bones shattered. Blood sprayed into the storm. The beast shrieked, flames bursting from its mane to sear his flesh—yet his scales only blackened, cracked, and held firm, refusing to yield.
From below, awed voices rose.
A group of cultivators—traveling merchants with their escorts—had been caught on the storm's edge. They hovered far back from the battlefield, faces pale, eyes wide with disbelief.
"Impossible… is that a blood dragon form?" one whispered.
"No… no technique I know matches this. And that blade… what in the heavens is he wielding? Is that his earthly treasure?"
Another shook his head, voice tight with greed. "No wonder he can fight like that… he must have multiple earthly treasures under his belt."
Their faces paled further as the storm above thundered with slaughter. None dared move closer, yet none could tear their eyes away. The Foundation Realm guards accompanying the caravan exchanged uneasy looks. Their gazes drifted from the sky back to the merchant carts and finally to the master's carriage.
Their bronze-and-feathered puppet wings buzzed faintly as they hovered in the air, spears at the ready and sabers hanging at their sides. One of them muttered, "Hmm? Complaining about earthly treasures again?"
The elegant carriage behind them was a sight of wealth and vanity—lacquered black wood inlaid with silver filigree, its roof carved with phoenix and dragon motifs. It was drawn not by horses but by four great hawks, their talons chained to the yoke. They had landed on the ground, unable to hover in place any longer.
The carriage doors creaked open. From within stepped a puppet dressed in flowing white robes. Its arms were polished bronze-gold metal, joints clicking softly as it moved, but its face wore a disturbingly lifelike mask of human skin—this gave it a living air, as its face, chest, thighs, and upper arms were all covered in skin.
The puppet's voice was smooth, almost mocking. "Aren't you satisfied with the treasures I've already given you? Wings that double as blades, shields that can deflect steel—and yet you fail to see their value?"
"No, Master Zhou," one of the guards said quickly, bowing his head. "We would never forget the gifts of a true expert."
The puppet fanned itself lazily with a folded fan as it drifted into the air, robes fluttering. Its gaze lifted to the battlefield above, where Shi Yang's blood-drenched form battled the qilin like a god of carnage.
"Hmm… isn't this quite the catch?" it mused aloud. "Not only have they stumbled upon a herd of Qi Refinement Realm qilin, but two in the Foundation Realm as well—and somehow, they've managed to subdue them."
The puppet's lips curved faintly. "Such a prize would fetch no small profit in Asura Dragon City. Perhaps I should introduce myself… I would hate to miss the chance to invite them to have those beasts sold at my auction house."
Down on the field, chaos continued.
The qilin herd, though bound and wounded, had not yet given up. One younger beast shrieked and snapped its binds, charging forward with a surge of fire. Xiu Mei flew down in an arc, her hammer glowing with oceanic light.
"Stay where you are, beast!" she shouted, slamming her weapon into the ground. A tide burst outward, slapping the qilin back and allowing Shi Yang's vulture to pin its legs in red treads.
Han Jie appeared in the storm of its struggling, bangles chiming on her wrists. Golden needles danced in her hands, each strike piercing into the qilin's joints, forcing it to stumble. Her talismans flared—crackling arcs of lightning wrapped around its neck like chains.
The beasts roared in fury, but Xiu Mei and Han Jie pressed on relentlessly, subduing them all with practiced rhythm. One pinned it, the other bound it, never giving them space to rally.
"Hold them down!" Han Jie shouted, sweat beading on her brow. "If they run, we'll never catch them again!"
Meanwhile, above—Shi Yang's laugh echoed through the storm.
The qilin bucked and writhed in his grip, but Shi Yang refused to release it. His horns glowed, blood boiled, and the rusted sword in his hand trembled with manic hunger.
Lightning split the clouds above. Flames roared from his body. The heavens themselves seemed to bend beneath the weight of their clash.
Let's end this. His eyes narrowed, the fire koi that circled endlessly behind him surging forward. "Let me show you—true flames!"
The koi merged into his body, and his frame swelled with raw power. His muscles bulged, his eyes blazed like twin suns, and whiskers of fire sprouted from both sides of his upper lip.
With one violent swing, he sent the qilin skidding back several meters. His face hardened into a draconic snarl as new horns pushed through his brow. His legs reshaped into the hind limbs of a dragon, and vast wings tore from his back. Blood-red scales hissed as fire licked across them, melting and reforming, finding balance within his wrath.
He had become something neither man nor beast—a true hybrid.
He shot forward, flames erupting from his feet like jets, propelling him faster than the eye could follow. His sword reversed in his grip, the dull spine leading the strike.
"Dragon BASH!!!"
The back of his blade smashed into the qilin's skull. In that instant, all the fire coating his body vanished—only to burst forth from the sword itself.
BOOM!!!
The qilin crashed earthward, its body driven down by a dragon-shaped torrent of released flame. The spirit beast cratered into the soil below, the fire-dragon dissolving into sparks that seared the battlefield.
"That," Shi Yang murmured, blood scales glistening across his skin, "is what it means to use fire."
He flicked his sword. The draconic features coating his body peeled away, collapsing into a surge of liquid blood that hissed and swirled in midair. It streamed into a whirlpool before filtering into a crimson koi, which darted around him before vanishing.
His gaze fell to the ruined field of asura flowers below. His hands brushed his robes—astonished to find them mostly intact, only slightly stretched at the seams. How are these still in one piece? he thought bitterly. His fingers closed around the storage mirror inside his inner garment.
He raised it, pointing it at the fallen qilin. Light rippled, and the beast was sucked inside with a dull thrum.
"Let's clean these up," he muttered, extending his palm. The scattered flames around him gathered together, compressing into another elemental koi before he turned toward the rest of the herd.
But before he could move, a voice rang out—smooth, lilting, and oddly playful.
"That was truly amazing, fellow Daoist."
Shi Yang's head snapped around. A figure stood at the edge of the field, bathed in falling petals and sunlight.
She was dazzling. Long golden hair drifted like silk in the breeze, a crown of bronze filigree framing her head. Her white robes trailed like flowing water, embroidered with pale floral patterns. Gold plated her limbs, from her delicate clawed fingers to her gleaming armored thighs. Her beauty was serene, but there was something unearthly in her poise, like a puppet carved too perfectly to be real.
The woman bowed slightly, smiling. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Master Zhou, representative of the Celestial Reliquary Auction House. To contend with a Fountain Realm qilin alone, and emerge unscathed… truly, few in this world could accomplish such a feat."
Shi Yang narrowed his eyes but said nothing.
Her smile deepened. "Tell me, fellow Daoist, what do you intend to do with the rest of these creatures? If you plan to sell them, why not allow my father's auction house to put them on display? You would find the bidding most… profitable."
"Auction house… your father's auction house?" Shi Yang asked slowly.
"Yes," Master Zhou replied without hesitation. "My maker, Zhou Yuan."
Shi Yang's grip tightened on his sword. That name—Zhou Yuan.
It rang a bell in his mind. He traveled deep into his thoughts and found what was familiar about that name.
It belonged to a peak Foundation Realm puppet master whose Dao allowed him to manipulate countless vessels at once. His grand ambition had been whispered across the cultivation world: to ascend by splitting his soul into his creations, letting each fragment wander, learn, and live. By recalling them, he would merge countless perspectives of existence, achieving enlightenment and stepping into the Golden Core Realm.
But his plan had failed. Zhou Yuan died before he could complete it, leaving only fragments of his spirit behind. Three puppets were said to bear shards of his soul: a giant turtle that wandered the world hoarding treasures and scriptures, a cunning serpent that formed alliances and carved empires from shadows, and—most elusive of all—
A puppet crafted in the image of his late daughter.
That last one had become legend. Many searched for it, seeking Zhou Yuan's true legacy. None returned. Some were devoured by the turtle. Others were outwitted by the serpent, which even now was said to control businesses and factions, living as a phantom echo of Zhou Yuan's will. Unlike its master, the serpent never used bronze—only silver and gold.
Shi Yang's gaze flicked to the girl before him. Beautiful. Perfect. Yet at her joints, beneath the robes, he caught the glimmer of bronze.
A chill ran through him. If this is not the serpent's puppet… then this must be the legendary puppet daughter of Zhou Yuan himself.