The storm in the desolate stone canyon was merciless.
Sheet rain whipped through the narrow mountain pass, driven by a howling wind that roared between the jagged basalt cliffs. Lightning flickered continuously in the dark, heavy sky, casting brief, stark white flashes over the barren rock. Torrents of muddy water cascaded down the steep slopes, pooling in the rocky basin below.
Fang Lin moved through the lashing rain like a dark streak, his feet barely touching the wet stone. He had traveled thousands of kilometers since breaking out of the Rivercloud City checkpoint, pushing his speed to the absolute limit. He was heading south, trying to reach the borders of the Green Bamboo Sect. He knew that once he crossed into his sect's territorial array, he could slip back into his true identity and find safety.
Suddenly, his Peak-Solid Soul scan flared with a sharp warning.
The space directly in front of him, less than fifty paces away, began to twist and buckle. The air warped in a series of violent, concentric ripples, and a brilliant, golden light erupted from the void, cutting through the grey sheet of rain.
Fang Lin skidded to a halt, his boots carving deep grooves into the wet, muddy gravel.
The golden light solidified into a massive, rotating spatial formation. From the center of the array, seven figures stepped out. All of them wore the pristine, gold-trimmed white robes of the Demon Suppression Temple.
At the front of the group stood a tall, cold-faced youth with a heavy, bronze staff resting on his shoulder. His robes were adorned with complex, black sealing marks that seemed to absorb the ambient light. His aura was heavy and absolute, representing a Mid Core Formation cultivation, but the sheer density of his Core Force suggested a combat strength that could easily rival a Late Core Formation expert.
Behind him were six other cultivators: four at the Early Core Formation Realm and two at the Mid Core Formation Realm. They moved in perfect, disciplined unison, their eyes locking onto Fang Lin with absolute focus.
Before Fang Lin could attempt to circle around them, the Legacy Disciple raised his hand.
"Form the barrier," he commanded, his voice cold and resonant, easily cutting through the roar of the thunder.
The six cultivators behind him instantly scattered, landing on the basalt cliffs surrounding the canyon basin. They slapped their hands onto the wet stone, channeling their Qi.
Boom!
Six massive pillars of golden light shot into the dark sky, forming a hexagonal ring around the basin. From the top of the pillars, lines of glowing, golden energy shot inward, weaving together to form a massive, semi-translucent dome over the entire canyon—the Vajra Sealing Gilded Net.
The lashing storm rain that hit the surface of the golden net did not pass through. Instead, it sizzled and vaporized instantly with a series of sharp, crackling pops. Within seconds, a hot, dense golden mist began to fill the sealed basin, obscuring the cliffs and trapping Fang Lin inside a humid, glowing cage. The local space within the net ground to a halt; Fang Lin could feel the spatial coordinates locking down, preventing any spatial transfer or escape.
Fang Lin stood in the center of the mist, his brown merchant robes soaked with sweat and rain. His hand rested on the grip of the hiltless Night Burial Sword.
The Legacy Disciple stepped forward, his heavy bronze staff dragging slightly on the wet gravel, leaving a clean trail in the mud.
"I am Heng Wuchen, a Legacy Disciple of the Demon Suppression Temple," the youth said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "We have tracked your karmic thread from Rivercloud City. You are the one who calls himself Shen Mo."
Fang Lin remained silent, his gaze fixed on Heng Wuchen.
"You possess an extraordinary body-tempering method, a high-level soul art, and a mastery of darkness techniques," Heng Wuchen continued, his eyes narrowed as he scanned Fang Lin. "But you are only a Spirit Foundation cultivator. You cannot break this Gilded Net, and you cannot escape the seven of us. Seal your own cultivation, surrender your weapons, and return to the Temple. If you resist, we will break your limbs and drag you back in chains."
Fang Lin let out a quiet breath. He knew there was no room for negotiation. This was a major sect's elite force, sent specifically to capture him. If they took him back, his secrets—the Grey Stone, his Chaos Physique, his Frost arts—would all be stripped away.
This was a life-or-death battle.
"If you want my sword," Fang Lin said, his voice raspy under his disguise, "you will have to take it from my corpse."
He drew the Night Burial Sword. The hiltless blade of dark iron caught the flash of a lightning bolt, its cold edge reflecting a pale, ominous light.
Meanwhile the Dark Flame spirit sent him a thought, "You're being tracked by karma, you have to hold them back while I prepare a formation to break out of this net. Else, there will be no end to attracting more cultivators"
Heng Wuchen's eyes grew cold. He raised his bronze staff, pointing it at Fang Lin.
"Subdue him," he ordered.
The four Early Core Formation elites leaped from the cliffs, landing in a perfect square formation around Fang Lin. They carried identical golden subduing staffs, their faces grim and cold.
"The Four Vajra Subduing Array!" one of them shouted.
They thrust their formation staffs into the muddy ground simultaneously. A wave of golden, vibrating energy erupted from the staffs, connecting the four of them in a glowing, square boundary. Fang Lin felt the air inside the square grow incredibly heavy, a solid weight pressing down on his chest, trying to suppress his breathing and his Qi circulation.
Fang Lin did not wait to be pinned. His body shifted.
Moonless Shadow Step!
He vanished.
To the untrained eye, he had simply ceased to exist. But the four elites did not panic. They closed their eyes, relying on the vibrating frequency of their merged Qi shields to sense any physical displacement in the air.
Fang Lin appeared directly behind one of the Early elites, his Night Burial Sword coming down in a swift, diagonal slash.
Moon-Eating Shadow Blade!
A crescent of absolute darkness sliced through the golden mist, striking the elite's back.
Clang!
The dark blade did not cut through. Instead, a glowing, golden shield manifested on the elite's back. The impact of Fang Lin's strike caused the shield to ripple, but the force of the blow was instantly distributed across all four cultivators. The other three shook slightly, their boots sinking an inch into the mud, but the target remained unharmed.
"The array shares the burden," the target elder sneered, turning and swinging his golden staff in a sweeping arc. "Your darkness cannot pierce our light!"
The staff carried a heavy, vibrating golden Qi that hissed through the air. Fang Lin leaned back, the staff passing an inch from his face, the wind pressure stinging his skin.
Before he could counter, the other three elites closed in, their staffs thrusting forward in a synchronized rhythm.
Fang Lin retreated, his feet sliding over the wet stone as he parried the incoming blows. Each time his sword clashed with their golden staffs, a sharp, vibrating shockwave traveled up his arm, attempting to disrupt his internal Qi flow.
The light-imbued Qi of their staffs was highly effective at dispersing his darkness. Each strike left a faint, burning golden trail in the air that ate away at the dark Qi surrounding his blade.
"Surrender, Shen Mo!" the elite in the east position shouted, stepping forward to press the attack.
Fang Lin kept his breathing steady, his Peak-Solid Soul scanning the four of them with absolute precision. He did not let the pressure panic him. He knew that no array was perfect. Even with their Qi merged, there had to be a transition gap—a micro-second where the flow of shared energy shifted from one node to another during movement.
He parried a heavy, downward smash from the elite who standing in the north, his Night Burial Sword deflecting the staff into the wet gravel.
At that exact moment, the elite from the east side stepped forward to cover his companion, his boots slipping slightly on a patch of wet mud. His balance wavered for a fraction of a second, causing the Qi rotation of the Four Vajra Subduing Array to stutter.
"There," Fang Lin whispered.
Using the technique transition optimization he had mastered in his duel against his mirror projection, Fang Lin pre-loaded his Qi into his legs.
Moonless Shadow Step!
He did not vanish to flee; he shifted forward, slipping inside the guard of the eastern elite.
Moon-Eating Shadow Blade!
The Night Burial Sword flashed in a horizontal line, the dark Qi compressed to a razor-thin edge. The strike was so fast it cut through the rain between them before the water could fall.
The shared Qi shield tried to manifest, but because the array's rotation was delayed by the slip, the shield was weak and unstable. The dark iron blade sliced clean through the golden shield and the elite's throat.
A head rolled into the mud, a fountain of blood spraying into the pouring rain.
The elite standing in the east, fell, his golden staff clattering against the stone.
The remaining three elites gasped, their merged Qi shield instantly shattering as the array was broken. They staggered backward, their faces pale under the golden mist.
*A Late Spirit Foundation Realm cultivator killing an elite Core Formation cultivator groomed by a Major sect of the continent? Unheard of!*
But Fang Lin had no time to celebrate. To execute that strike with enough force to cut through the shared shield, he had to commit his entire body force, leaving himself temporarily exposed.
From the edge of the basin, one of the two Mid Core Formation elites, who had been waiting for this exact moment, shot forward. His speed was incredible, his body wrapped in a brilliant, solar fire Qi that dispelled the surrounding mist.
"Die, demon!" the Mid elite roared, his palms thrusting forward.
"Vajra Seal of the Sun!"
A massive, golden palm print, ten paces wide and glowing with the intense heat of solar energy, materialized in the air. The rain within the path of the palm was instantly vaporized, creating a tunnel of dry, scorching heat that slammed directly toward Fang Lin.
Fang Lin's Peak-Solid Soul saw the attack, but his body was still recovering from the momentum of his previous strike. He could not dodge in time.
He gritted his teeth, forcing his Qi to circulate through his meridians at a desperate speed. His skin turned a deep, dark grey as he pushed his Netherskin to its absolute limit, and he raised the flat of the Night Burial Sword to block.
Boom!
The golden palm print slammed into his guard with the force of a falling mountain.
The solar energy exploded, burning away the dark Qi surrounding his body. The sheer physical impact broke through his Netherskin defense. Fang Lin heard a series of sharp cracks from his chest as three of his ribs fractured under the pressure.
"Pfft!"
A dark spray of blood erupted from his lips. He was thrown backward like a broken doll, his body skipping across the wet stone basin before crashing heavily into a pool of muddy water.
His Night Burial Sword slipped from his hand, landing a few paces away in the gravel.
Fang Lin lay face-down in the mud, his breathing shallow and agonizingly painful. Every breath felt like hot needles piercing his chest, and his meridians were in a state of chaotic turmoil.
Through the golden mist, the remaining three Early elites and the two Mid elites closed in, their golden staffs and glowing palms prepared to end his struggle. Heng Wuchen stood in the back, his heavy bronze staff resting on the ground, his gaze cold and absolute.
"You are strong for a Spirit Foundation cultivator," Heng Wuchen said, his voice echoing in the wet canyon. "But this is the end. You cannot survive against the Demon Suppression Temple."
Fang Lin pushed his hands against the wet gravel, his fingers clawing into the mud. He spat out another mouthful of blood, his eyes locking onto the hiltless sword lying nearby.
He realized, with absolute clarity, that this was indeed a life-or-death fight. If he continued to hide his cards, he would die for sure here.
The Dark Flame spirit sent frantic messages, "You have to hold on while I prepare an exit, if more people find us, we are finished!"
Gritting his teeth and hatred overflowing towards the Demon Suppression Temple he uttered slowly, "Today...
your blood....
will be the...
.....ink for my legend!"
He had to unleash everything if he had to survive, there was no other way out of this.
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