Scene 1 – The Patriarch's Wrath
The courtyard still trembled from the aftermath of Lin Wuji's fall.
Cracks webbed across the marble ground like scars, dust hanging thick in the air as the former Great Elder lay collapsed—his cultivation shattered, his pride reduced to nothing more than shallow breaths and terror-filled eyes.
Then—
BOOM!
Zhao Qingtian stomped down from the steps.
The marble beneath his foot exploded outward, tiles fracturing as if crushed by a mountain. A wave of violent spiritual pressure burst forth, sweeping across the Lin Clan courtyard.
Disciples staggered back.
Some dropped to one knee.
Others paled, blood trickling from the corners of their mouths.
> "Useless trash!" Zhao Qingtian roared, his voice shaking the banners overhead.
"You promised me Lin Yuan's head—and instead you lose your cultivation?!"
His gaze fell upon Lin Wuji with pure contempt, as if looking at something already dead.
The Zhao Patriarch's aura surged higher—thick, domineering, heavy with the authority of a man who had ruled unchallenged for decades.
> "Enough of this farce," he growled, spiritual energy roaring around him like a gathering storm.
"I'll crush the Lin Clan myself."
Lin Yuan stepped forward, sword hand tightening.
But before he could speak—
Soft laughter cut through the suffocating pressure.
Not loud.
Not mocking.
Just… calm.
> "Crush the Lin Clan?" Lin Xian said lightly, his voice carrying effortlessly across the courtyard.
"You might want to bring a shovel. You'll be the one buried here today."
Zhao Qingtian's killing intent spiked instantly, snapping toward Lin Xian like a blade.
Yet Lin Xian stood unmoved.
Hands clasped behind his back.
White robes pristine.
Silver eyes calm and focused—like a predator already measuring the distance to its prey.
> "You think you can stop me, boy?" Zhao Qingtian snarled.
Lin Xian met his gaze without the slightest flinch.
> "I don't think, Zhao Qingtian," he replied coolly.
"I simply know."
Behind him, Xiao Jian stretched lazily, padding forward before settling beside Lin Xian's feet. Golden sparks flickered faintly along his fur, static dancing like restrained lightning.
Lin Xian glanced down and sighed.
> "You've been eating, sleeping, and playing all day," he remarked dryly.
"Yet you're already at mid-stage Spirit Foundation Realm. It's almost unfair."
"... Honestly, it's ridiculous."
Xiao Jian yawned wide, fangs flashing briefly as his tail flicked.
He looked utterly unconcerned—yet his pupils gleamed sharp and alert.
Lin Xian smirked faintly.
"Playtime's over. Now we crush them."
The tension in the courtyard twisted tighter.
Humor faded.
Only pressure remained.
---
Scene 2 – The Return of Zhao Tianfeng
Before Zhao Qingtian could move again, a calm, arrogant voice echoed from behind him.
> "Father."
"Allow me."
The Zhao cultivators parted immediately.
A young man stepped forward.
Black-and-gold robes embroidered with thunder sigils clung to his tall frame, faint arcs of lightning dancing along the fabric. His long hair was tied with a jade clasp, his posture relaxed—yet every step carried an unspoken dominance.
The moment his feet touched the courtyard—
The air changed.
> "That's Zhao Tianfeng…!"
"The Zhao Clan's eldest son!"
"He returned from the Scarlet Thunder Sect?!"
Whispers rippled through the Lin Clan ranks like shockwaves.
Stormrift State.
Scarlet Thunder Sect.
A name that commanded fear across countless cities.
Zhao Tianfeng's aura unfurled—refined, violent, honed through real combat. Though his cultivation sat at early-stage Spirit Foundation Realm, the pressure he emitted rivaled mid-stage experts.
Even the Lin elders stiffened.
Lin Yuan's brows furrowed slightly.
> "Early stage… but his qi density is terrifying."
"He's been tempered by sect warfare."
Lin Xian observed him quietly.
So this is a sect disciple.
His eyes narrowed—not in fear, but interest.
Zhao Tianfeng stopped several paces away, hands clasped behind his back, gaze dripping with disdain.
> "Lin Xian," he said slowly.
"You've caused quite a mess."
"Crushed my clan's merchant trades. Humiliated my people."
He smiled thinly.
> "Did you really think that made you untouchable?"
Lin Xian's response was effortless.
> "Untouchable? No."
"You're just beneath me."
A low chuckle escaped Zhao Tianfeng.
> "Beneath you?" he scoffed.
"You're a frog croaking in a puddle, mistaking yourself for a dragon."
Lightning crackled faintly around him as he stepped closer.
> "In the Scarlet Thunder Sect, we train against beasts that swallow men whole."
"Against storms that tear mountains apart."
His aura surged.
> "You're not even worth unsheathing my sword."
Lin Xian tilted his head slightly, silver eyes gleaming.
> "Then don't."
"I'll make sure you regret that arrogance
Gasps echoed.
Bai Yusheng clenched her sleeves, worry flashing across her eyes.
> He's pushing too far…
But Lin Xian's expression remained serene.
Unshaken.
Scene 3 – The Duel Begins
They stepped into the center of the courtyard. The moment their feet touched the shattered ground, the world seemed to hold its breath. Wind stilled. Dust hung frozen midair. Even the distant murmurs of the crowd vanished, as if the heavens themselves were watching.
Only two sounds remained—the faint crackle of lightning coiling around Zhao Tianfeng's body, and the deep, steady hum of condensed qi radiating from Lin Xian.
An elder near the back inhaled sharply.
"This pressure…"
"Both of them are suppressing their aura—and yet it already feels like this?"
Zhao Tianfeng rolled his shoulders, joints popping softly as arcs of crimson lightning crawled along his arms. His expression was casual, almost bored.
"I don't kill dogs with blades," he said lightly. "You are not worthy."
A ripple spread through the Zhao disciples—confidence, anticipation.
Lin Xian's lips curved into a faint smile. Not anger. Not mockery. Calm.
"Then you'll die tragically," he replied. "A fitting end."
---
BOOM!
The ground detonated. Both figures vanished simultaneously, their movements too fast for ordinary eyes to follow.
Several outer disciples blinked—and completely lost sight of them.
"Where—?!" "They disappeared!"
Their fists collided mid-air—CRACK!
The impact was like two mountains slamming together. A violent shockwave tore outward, shattering tiles, ripping stone from the ground, and sending dust spiraling skyward. The surrounding disciples were forced back, robes snapping violently in the pressure.
An elder slammed his staff into the ground, eyes wide.
"Spirit Foundation Realm collisions… at this age?" "This isn't a duel—this is a battlefield!"
Both fighters skidded backward, feet carving deep trenches into the marble before they stabilized.
Zhao Tianfeng threw his head back and laughed.
"Fast," he admitted. "But speed alone won't save you."
Some Zhao disciples clenched their fists.
"Young Master Tianfeng hasn't even used a weapon yet…" "This is already overwhelming!"
Lightning surged. He stepped forward—and the space beneath his feet exploded again. His palm glowed crimson as lightning threads wrapped tightly around his arm, compressing into a focused, lethal strike. He thrust forward.
Lin Xian vanished.
Shadow Steps.
Three afterimages bloomed where he had stood, each moving in a different direction, weaving through the lightning-laced palm like drifting smoke.
A Lin elder's pupils shrank.
"Afterimages… no—those aren't illusions." "That's movement control refined to the extreme!"
Zhao Tianfeng's eyes narrowed.
Too late.
Lin Xian appeared at his flank.
Nirvana Fist.
The punch detonated with a deep, thunderous roar—like a volcano erupting beneath the sea. Zhao Tianfeng twisted instinctively, meeting it head-on.
Their fists collided.
BOOOOOOM!
The courtyard cracked open. A spiderweb of fractures raced across the ground, stone slabs flipping upward as a violent blast of qi surged outward.
Lin Xian slid back half a step, boots grinding against shattered marble.
Zhao Tianfeng pressed forward immediately, grin widening.
"Not bad," he said, lightning dancing wildly around him. "But you're not at my level."
Bai Yusheng's brows knit tightly.
Half a step…
Lin Xian was forced back.
Lin Xian straightened slowly, silver eyes lifting to meet his opponent's gaze. Calm. Focused.
"That so?" he said. "I haven't even started."
---
He disappeared again.
This time—faster.
The air itself seemed to shatter as Lin Xian moved. Shadows flickered from every direction, his figure appearing and vanishing in rapid succession.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Punches landed in relentless bursts—not aimed to kill, but to test. A strike to the shoulder. A feint toward the throat. A sudden shift in angle, then another blow toward the ribs. Each movement flowed seamlessly into the next, footwork precise, rhythm controlled.
Zhao Tianfeng blocked and parried, lightning flaring violently with every clash—but his grin slowly stiffened.
He's not rushing… He's reading me.
A flicker of irritation crossed his eyes.
Lin Xian's thoughts were cold and sharp.
His qi circulation is flawless. No wasted movement. Instincts refined through real combat.
Then—a subtle delay. A fraction of arrogance.
There.
Zhao Tianfeng suddenly feinted left—his lightning flaring explosively. Then pivoted sharply.
CRACK!
His fist slammed into Lin Xian's ribs.
A collective gasp tore through the courtyard.
The sound was sickening. Lin Xian's body jolted violently as he was sent skidding backward. He dropped to one knee, palm pressing against the fractured ground to steady himself.
A thin line of blood slipped from the corner of his mouth.
Some Zhao disciples laughed.
"There it is!" "Sect disciples are on another level!"
The lightning around Zhao Tianfeng surged triumphantly as he straightened.
"In the Scarlet Thunder Sect," he said coldly, "we don't learn to fight. We learn to kill."
The pressure intensified. Killing intent poured down like a storm.
Lin Xian wiped the blood away with his thumb. Then—he smiled. Not strained. Not forced. Genuinely intrigued.
"Interesting."
---
The air twisted violently between them. Qi collided. Lightning roared. Two young dragons faced each other—neither willing to bow, neither backing down.
And the storm had only begun.
To be continued…