Feiyin had spent the last few days adjusting to the profound changes brought by his advancement into the Meridian Opening Realm. His senses were sharper, his body felt lighter yet more powerful, and the flow of energy within him had become something more refined, more complete. He could feel the meridian in his foot humming faintly with the essence of the world, a foundation upon which he would continue to build.
The unease that had lingered in his heart before had slowly faded as he focused on his training, believing it might have been nothing more than paranoia. The village had been peaceful since the last attack, and everyone had strengthened their defenses, maintaining a constant state of vigilance.
But reality was not so kind. It came without warning.
A piercing whistle cut through the air, followed by a chorus of shouts and the clashing of weapons. The sky above Pine Village was illuminated by the eerie glow of flames igniting in the distance.
The village was under attack. Feiyin's body tensed as he shot up from his seat near the training grounds, his heart slamming against his ribs. His first instinct was to reach for his saber, his fingers closing around the hilt as he rushed outside.
This time, however, the scene was different. The militia was ready.
Unlike the previous attack, where they had been caught off guard, this time they had prepared. Barricades had been set up, defensive lines had been drawn, and the men were already armed and engaged in battle. Sun Ke and the others were leading squads to hold the outskirts, keeping the enemy from advancing deeper into the village.
But Feiyin's blood ran cold when he saw them. Standing amidst the sea of black-cloaked invaders, three figures in white robes observed the battlefield with an eerie sense of detachment. Two men and one woman.
They were different. Their robes, pristine white like the first white-robed man from the previous attack, billowed lightly despite the lack of wind. Their presence alone made the battlefield feel heavier, their gazes radiating an unseen pressure.
They were all in the Qi Condensation Realm, And they were as strong as the last one.
Before Feiyin could even comprehend the full weight of what was happening, two figures blurred past him. His parents.
Mei Liao and Cai Feng had already sprung into action, their bodies flickering with terrifying speed as they shot toward the white-robed figures.
Their movements were too fast for normal eyes to follow, but to Feiyin, whose senses had sharpened even further, he saw the way their inner strength surged, their bodies moving with a terrifying mixture of fluidity and precision.
His father's blade gleamed under the moonlight as he swung it toward one of the men, his every motion a manifestation of firmness and explosivity. His mother, by contrast, moved like a whisper in the wind, her attacks flowing like water, elusive and unpredictable.
The three white-robed cultivators smirked. And the battle erupted.
The first clash of weapons sent shockwaves rippling through the battlefield, shaking the air itself.
Cai Feng's long, curved blade met the spear of one of the men, their inner strength colliding with such force that the ground beneath them cracked. His opponent's weapon trembled under the sheer density of Cai Feng's force, but the man merely grinned, twisting his spear with unnatural flexibility, redirecting the impact to lessen the blow.
At the same time, Mei Liao faced the other two enemies, weaving through the attacks with astonishing grace. The woman in white, wielding a thin, serrated blade, lashed out with a strike that seemed almost invisible, the tip of her weapon vibrating at a frequency that made the very air hum.
Mei Liao dodged by a hair's breadth, her body moving in tandem with the oscillations, her footwork so delicate that it seemed as if she were floating. With a flick of her wrist, a needle-thin blade slid from her sleeve, and she countered with a movement so fast that the air shriekingly split apart.
The second white-robed man, a tall figure with an unreadable expression, wielded a long halberd. He swung it in a wide arc, and a wave of Essence Qi followed in its wake, tearing through the ground like an invisible force.
They weren't holding back. Mei Liao twisted her body mid-air, her own Essence Qi surging to meet the attack, softening the impact just enough to let her escape the full brunt of the strike. But even then, she was forced back several steps, her expression darkening.
Cai Feng, noticing the situation, clicked his tongue. "Two against one?" he sneered. "Aren't you all supposed to be proud cultivators? Or does your so-called 'sect' only know how to gang up on people?"
The white-robed woman laughed softly, her eyes gleaming with amusement.
"You talk too much," she murmured, her voice like silk. And then she disappeared.
A blur. A flash of silver.
Cai Feng barely had time to turn before she was upon him, her blade aimed for his neck. But he was already moving.
With a single step, he redirected his weight, twisting his torso just enough to avoid the killing strike while bringing his saber down in a brutal downward arc.
The woman, anticipating it, bent backward mid-air, her flexibility defying human limitations as the tip of Cai Feng's blade passed mere inches above her chest.
Before she could fully recover, Mei Liao's figure flashed into existence beside her, a streak of violet light arcing toward her side.
The woman barely managed to block, her own weapon meeting Mei Liao's with a sharp clang, but her balance had been compromised.
Cai Feng and Mei Liao pressed the advantage. Together, their attacks wove into each other like a perfectly coordinated dance, each movement synchronized, each motion complementing the other. The sheer intensity of their combined assault forced the two white-robed enemies backward, momentarily putting them on the defensive.
The third white-robed man, who had been fighting Cai Feng, narrowed his eyes and finally unleashed his full strength.
A pulse of Essence Qi burst outward from his body, his weapon humming with power.
He wasn't playing anymore. And neither was Cai Feng.
Feiyin, watching from the distance, could barely contain his emotions. His parents were fighting against three powerful enemies, and though they were holding their own, he knew that if this dragged on, things could go wrong.
He wanted to help. But his father's words echoed in his mind.
"A drawn blade is a known one, and a sheathed one is an unknown. If you must fight, make sure it's worth it."
Feiyin tightened his grip on his saber, but he didn't move. Not yet.
Instead, he focused on the battlefield around him. The militia, despite their preparations, were struggling against the sheer numbers of the black-cloaked enemies. Blades clashed, blood sprayed, and the scent of burning wood filled the air.
Feiyin's heartbeat pounded in his ears.
Feiyin stood at the edge of the battlefield, his heart hammering as he absorbed the scene unfolding before him. The battle was chaos, a maelstrom of steel, blood, and clashing wills. The militia fought with all they had, but the sheer number of black-cloaked invaders pressed them hard, and the three white-robed figures were an overwhelming presence.
His parents had engaged them, their figures flickering across the battlefield like phantoms.
The three enemies, all in the External Flow Phase of Qi Condensation, were unleashing their strength freely, their weapons wreathed in visible essence-infused auras, sending deadly arcs of force slicing through the air.
Feiyin's father, Cai Feng, moved like a storm. His saber roared as he cut through the air, each strike backed by overwhelming force. Against him stood a tall, broad-shouldered man wielding a halberd, his essence qi swirling as he met each strike head-on. Their weapons clashed in a thunderous impact, sending ripples through the battlefield, forcing weaker combatants to stagger away from the shockwaves.
Mei Liao, his mother, was a stark contrast. She weaved fluidly between attacks, her movements precise and elusive. Her twin daggers shimmered as she struck at the white-robed woman, whose thin, serrated blade vibrated unnaturally, sending piercing waves through the air whenever she swung it.
The last enemy, a man with a spear, hung back, analyzing the battle, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Feiyin's breath came fast. This was nothing like the spars he had with his father, nor even the deadly militia training. This was war.
A war that had reached his home. His oscillations surged instinctively, his senses drowning in the endless frequencies of battle, the harsh clash of blades, the heavy tremor of footfalls, the erratic rhythms of fear, pain, and desperation.
Yet, amidst it all, he focused on his father. Cai Feng's movements were razor-sharp, his strikes executed with terrifying precision. His blade was an extension of his intent, each slash not just a movement but an expression of absolute lethality.
But his opponent was no amateur. The halberd-wielding man wasn't just blocking, he was redirecting.
Each time Cai Feng's saber sliced downward, the man used his polearm's length to twist the impact away, dispersing the force across a wider surface to lessen the direct collision.
Feiyin's eyes narrowed. That's not just raw power, that's calculated technique.
The white-robed enemies were using their External Flow Phase mastery to guide and enhance their attacks, extending their reach and power beyond what should be possible at their level.
They weren't just strong. They were disciplined, with skilled techniques.
His mother's fight was no less intense. Mei Liao's movements were like a shadow in the night, yet no matter how elusive she was, the white-robed woman was a perfect counter. A battle of extremes.
Mei Liao's softness, her ability to redirect and absorb force, was being met by an opponent whose blade vibrated with high-frequency oscillations, tearing through the air with impossible sharpness.
Each dodge, each movement Mei Liao made, was countered by a precise sweep of the woman's blade, creating a deadly zone of slashes that made approaching dangerous.
For the first time, Feiyin realized, His parents were at a disadvantage.
A chill ran down his spine. He had to act, to do something.