The attack came at dawn.
Not with stealth.
Not with subtle pressure.
But openly.
Crimson Cloud Sect banners cut through the morning fog like streaks of blood across pale sky.
Three warships hovered beyond the outer ridge.
Golden Core auras pressed downward like suffocating heat.
The defensive formation of Azure Wind Mountain flickered instinctively, thin blue light rippling across the peaks.
Lan Qingyun stood at the central platform.
His robes snapped in the wind.
Behind him, fifty disciples gathered in panic.
"Stay inside the inner boundary," he ordered calmly.
"But Sect Master—"
"That is an order."
His voice did not rise.
It didn't need to.
They retreated.
Above, a booming voice echoed.
"Lan Qingyun!"
The speaker descended from the lead warship.
Sect Master Han of Crimson Cloud.
High Golden Core.
Sharp-eyed.
Broad-shouldered.
His crimson robe shimmered with flame patterns.
Two elders followed behind him.
Golden Core as well.
Pressure rolled outward like a wave.
Lan Qingyun stepped forward alone.
Mid Golden Core aura rose smoothly to meet it.
The mountain air trembled between them.
Sect Master Han smiled faintly.
"You received our letter."
"I did."
"And your answer?"
Lan Qingyun's gaze remained steady.
"Azure Wind will relinquish outer territories."
Murmurs among Crimson elders.
Han's brows lifted slightly.
"Only outer territories?"
"Yes."
"You refuse cooperation."
"We refuse absorption."
The air tightened.
Han studied him carefully.
"You are pragmatic. Good. But pragmatism requires realism."
His aura surged slightly.
Cracks appeared along the outer defensive array.
"Without your ancestor, without strong disciples… how long do you think this mountain will stand?"
Lan Qingyun did not answer.
Because he knew the answer.
Not long.
Then—
A new presence rose from behind him.
Weak.
Unstable.
But fierce.
Elder Wei stepped forward.
Leaning on his cane.
Golden Core fluctuations erratic.
But unmistakable.
Peak Golden Core.
Even cracked, even dying, the pressure was immense.
Sect Master Han's eyes narrowed.
"You should be resting."
Elder Wei smiled faintly.
"I am."
The sky dimmed slightly as his aura expanded.
Wild.
Unstable.
Dangerous.
Everyone present understood.
A Peak Golden Core self-destruction could level half the mountain range.
Han raised a hand subtly.
His two elders stopped advancing.
Wind grew violent around the terrace.
Lan Qingyun stepped slightly forward.
His own Golden Core began rotating faster.
If it came to it—
He would do the same.
Two Golden Core self-destructions at this range…
Even Crimson Cloud would bleed heavily.
Han's jaw tightened.
Silence stretched long and tense.
Then—
He laughed.
"Azure Wind truly lives up to its stubborn name."
His aura slowly receded.
"We have no desire to destroy the mountain."
He looked at the cracked defensive formation.
"At least… not entirely."
He gestured casually.
One Crimson elder below slashed downward with blazing palm force.
A streak of crimson light tore through the lower valley.
The earth shook violently.
A deep, resonant rumble followed.
Lan Qingyun's pupils shrank.
No.
The strike pierced into the lower spirit spring.
The ground split.
The air itself wavered.
Spiritual energy surged uncontrollably before thinning abruptly.
The heart of the outer spirit vein—
Damaged.
Not destroyed.
But fractured.
Disciples screamed as tremors rippled upward.
Buildings cracked.
Dust filled the sky.
Lan Qingyun's aura exploded outward instinctively, shielding the inner courtyard.
Elder Wei coughed violently, blood spraying from his lips as he forced his Golden Core to stabilize the formation core.
For a terrifying moment—
It felt like everything would collapse.
Then it settled.
Barely.
The mountain groaned like a wounded beast.
Silence followed.
Sect Master Han's expression was calm.
"We will take the outer territories."
"Keep your mountain."
"For now."
He met Lan Qingyun's gaze directly.
"Next time, you may not be able to afford stubbornness."
With that, Crimson Cloud Sect withdrew.
Warships turning slowly.
Banners receding into the morning haze.
But the damage remained.
Dust drifted like ash.
The once steady spiritual flow of Azure Wind Mountain now felt uneven.
Thin.
Like breath through broken ribs.
Lan Qingyun slowly exhaled.
His robes were torn at the sleeve.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
He hadn't noticed when it happened.
Behind him, disciples emerged cautiously.
Some crying.
Some pale.
Some staring at the cracked valley in disbelief.
Outer fields.
Gone.
Half their cultivation grounds.
Gone.
The spirit vein output—
Reduced drastically.
Elder Wei staggered.
Lan Qingyun caught him instantly.
"Master."
The old man's breathing was ragged.
"Good," he whispered faintly.
"They did not press further."
"You shouldn't have moved."
Elder Wei chuckled weakly.
"You think I would let you stand alone?"
Lan Qingyun's throat tightened slightly.
The old master looked toward the damaged valley.
"I failed again."
"No."
"I could not protect it."
"You protected what mattered."
Silence.
Wind carried dust through broken stone.
After a moment, Elder Wei spoke again.
"Listen carefully."
Qingyun leaned closer.
"If the spirit vein collapses further… the sect will starve."
"I know."
"You must stabilize it."
"With what resources?"
Elder Wei did not answer immediately.
His eyes were tired.
Old.
"Qingyun…"
"Yes."
"If it comes to the worst…"
He paused.
"…do not hesitate."
Qingyun understood.
Self-destruction.
Final deterrence.
He said nothing.
Night fell heavier than usual.
The mountain felt quieter.
Weaker.
Lan Qingyun stood at the damaged valley edge.
Spiritual energy seeped upward in uneven pulses.
He closed his eyes.
Circulated qi.
Measured the fracture internally.
Repairable.
But costly.
Very costly.
Resources they no longer had.
He looked at the sky.
No lightning.
No omen.
No miracle.
Just stars.
Cold and distant.
He laughed softly.
"Still nothing."
A hundred years.
Now this.
His sect reduced to a wounded shell.
Fifty mediocre disciples.
A dying master.
A fractured spirit vein.
Enemies watching.
Top five?
They were barely surviving.
Wind brushed across the cliff.
Lan Qingyun clenched his fists slowly.
"If you're going to show up…"
His voice was quiet.
"…now would be a good time."
Nothing answered.
Only the mountain's wounded breath