The white flash collapsed like a dying star.

Its afterglow lingered for only a breath—then reality slammed back into form.

CLAAAAANG!

A shriek of steel rang through the corridor like thunder cracking inside a tomb.

Elder Feng Yu staggered back, boots carving twin trenches into the stone floor. His sword vibrated violently in his hands, light glinting off the cold steel as he steadied himself.

A massive crimson arrow—formed not of wood or metal but pure murderous intent—splintered into red sparks against the blade.

The sparks fell like dying fireflies, their glow briefly illuminating the vast corridor of ancient stone.

But respite did not follow.

Whoosh!

Another arrow—this one entirely silent—materialized out of the darkness behind him.

Elder Hua's figure blurred into existence with perfect timing. Her robes fluttered softly as her sword traced an elegant arc, striking the projectile with a whisper-light touch that redirected its lethal aim.

The arrow exploded against a distant pillar, showering the area with broken stone.

Hua's voice, calm yet sharp as a blade, cut the silence:

"Stay alert. They're everywhere."

The corridor transformed instantaneously.

The darkness overhead pulsed—like veins awakened within the castle walls.

Cracks in the floor glowed faintly red.

Air that had been cold and still now hummed with invisible vibrations.

And then—

The world ignited in crimson.

Hundreds of glowing arrowheads bloomed in mid-air, each one emerging from nothingness like a malignant flower of light.

"DEFEND!!" Elder Liya's shout rang like a bell.

Her aura exploded outward—a swirl of pink petals and wind—protecting the disciples behind her. Arrows slammed into the barrier she erected, sending shockwaves that distorted the air like heat waves rising off desert sand.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Each impact cracked the floor beneath her feet.

Her arms trembled, sweat beading her forehead.

"These arrows… they aren't qi," she hissed through clenched teeth. "They're pure killing intent, condensed and weaponized!"

Elder Wan flung his sleeves open, talismans shooting out and embedding themselves across the floor.

"Eight-Directional Turtle Shell Formation—RISE!"

Rumbling, grinding stone erupted around the disciples. A dome of interlocking, rune-carved plates formed over them. Each plate looked like it was chiseled from the shell of a dragon-tortoise.

Arrows hammered against the barrier, sparks flying in every direction.

The hall groaned under the pressure.

Wang Tian swung his greatsword in roaring arcs, smashing any arrow that slipped through the cracks. Luo Chen slashed precise, crescent-shaped sword beams that incinerated the weaker bolts.

Behind them, younger disciples trembled, shielding themselves with shaking hands.

Yet the storm only grew stronger.

The crimson glow intensified. The air vibrated. Breath became difficult.

And then—

The arrows shifted their trajectory.

Like living serpents, they turned sharply and converged on one single point.

One single person.

Shaurya.

He stood isolated—ten steps ahead of the group—just far enough that none of the elders' defenses reached him.

The arrows swarmed him like a hive of bloodthirsty insects, soundless yet deadly, folding inward from all angles.

But Shaurya did not panic.

He dodged.

A slight tilt of the neck—an arrow grazed his cheek, cutting a single strand of hair.

A twist of his torso—a projectile whistled past his ribs.

A shift of his foot—three arrows stabbed into the stone where he'd just been.

He slapped a fourth arrow out of the air with the back of his hand. The projectile shattered on his skin.

He clicked his tongue, annoyance flashing in his golden eyes.

"Tch. Persistent mosquitoes…"

But even as he mocked, Shaurya felt it.

This barrage wasn't chaotic.

It was precise.

Deliberate.

Designed to isolate him… distract him… and suppress the sect behind him.

Someone was controlling them.

His brow creased.

Not a mechanism.

An assassin.

He couldn't fight blindly. He needed to find them.

The arrows tightened their circle around him, pressing him into a tiny sphere of death.

Movement became harder.

And then—

A streak of blue and white light cut in front of Shaurya.

Elder Feng Yu.

His sword blurred so violently its motion became a continuous ring of steel.

CLANG. CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

Metal struck light and shattered it.

Arrows exploded upon his blade, showering the corridor in sparks. His shoulders trembled under the force, blood trickling from his knuckles.

But he didn't move.

He stood between Shaurya and death like a wall of ice refusing to melt.

"Master!" Feng Yu shouted, voice strained. "Focus! I'll hold them!"

Shaurya's breath eased.

"Good job, Elder."

And then— he closed his eyes.

The world slowed.

The corridor hushed. Arrows became faint trails. Shadows whispered.

He stretched his Divine Sense thin—needle-thin—pushing past the barrage, past the chaos, into the fabric of the stone itself.

He felt…

A vibration.

A pulse.

A slight ripple in the air—

A living presence hidden within the walls.

A shadow controlling deaths.

Shaurya's eyes snapped open—glowing gold.

He raised his hand.

Sapphire flames roared from his palm, hotter than molten metal. He compressed them into a dense sphere, the heat warping the air around him like a blue star.

He aimed it—

Not at the arrows.

At the wall to his left.

"Burn."

He thrust.

The sapphire fireball screamed through the corridor.

BOOOOOOOOOM!

The explosion vaporized stone, punching a crater into the wall. Rubble and molten rock splattered across the floor, lighting up the corridor in azure brilliance.

The concealment array layered behind the wall shattered with a sound like breaking glass.

Inside the cloud of stone dust—

A figure stumbled out, coughing, cloak burning at the edges.

"He found us?!" the man cried in panic.

"The formation was flawless!" another hissed from the shadows.

The moment this scout emerged—

The crimson arrows flickered and dissolved into red mist.

The air breathed again.

Xiao Rui exhaled, collapsing to one knee. "Thank the heavens… I thought I was going to die…"

But the relief was premature.

Because shadows began to move.

Not one.

Not two.

But dozens.

Figures detached themselves from cracks in the ceiling, melted out of pillars, stepped out of pools of darkness.

They encircled the Sanatan Flame Sect like a tightening noose.

Heavy armor. Jagged edges. The same symbol—

A stone fist breaking a mountain.

Elder Wan's face drained of color.

"The Stone Shattering Sect… Tier-1 from the Empire…"

And these were no novices.

Their auras were suffocating—many at Golden Vein, some at Nascent Soul.

The disciples instinctively huddled closer.

And then—

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Heavy footsteps echoed.

The crowd parted.

And the monster stepped forward.

A colossal old man towered nearly seven feet tall, muscles knotted like boulders. His skin was rough and grayish, cracked with ancient scars. A long braided beard, interwoven with iron rings, hung to his chest.

He carried a gigantic double-headed axe carved from black stone and steel, the blade humming with bloodlust.

His steps were earthquakes.

His aura crushed the air.

Nascent Soul Stage — Level 9.

The disciples nearly fainted from the pressure.

The old man spat on the floor and glared down at Shaurya like a predator inspecting a meal.

"So," he growled, voice rumbling like shifting mountains, "you're the little monkey who embarrassed my scouts."

He leaned forward, sneering.

"I expected a dragon. I found a rat."

Lin Shu's breath caught, her grip tightening around her sword. Elder Liya's aura flared with fury. Even Feng Yu trembled from rage.

But Shaurya?

He simply stared back.

Expressionless.

Bored.

The old man lifted his colossal axe, pointing it at Shaurya's chest.

"Give me the key to the inner sanctum. Kneel. Break your arms. And maybe I'll let your women live."

His disciples burst into laughter, their gazes hungry and vile.

Lin Shu's aura crackled.

Shaurya slowly put his hands in his pockets.

He tilted his head, gazing at the old man with an expression that could only be described as—

Pity.

"Old man," Shaurya said quietly.

The corridor stilled.

Gou Yan frowned. "What?"

Shaurya drew a slow breath, eyes glowing faintly.

"You should really be careful swinging that heavy axe."

The elder scowled. "And why is that?"

Shaurya's lips stretched into a razor-thin smile.

"Because at your age," he said gently, "one wrong swing—"

His eyes hardened.

"—and you'll break your hip before I even touch you."

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Then—

Gou Yan's face turned crimson.

"You insolent little—!"

Shaurya pulled one hand from his pocket and raised a single finger.

"Come then, fossil."

His voice dropped into a chilling whisper.

"Let's see if you shatter… or if I break you."

The corridor vibrated as if the ancient castle itself felt the shift in aura.

Every disciple's heart raced.

Every enemy's hand tightened on their weapon.

The air thickened to the point it felt like syrup.

Shaurya's eyes gleamed with golden spritual energy.

His aura slowly began to rise—

Shaurya's smile lingered—sharp, cold, merciless.

The corridor trembled beneath his feet, dust drifting from the ceiling as if the ancient castle itself sensed the coming storm.

Gou Yan's grip tightened around his colossal axe. Veins bulged on his forehead. His disciples shifted restlessly, ready to swarm like a tide of steel and stone.

The Sanatan Flame Sect stood frozen behind Shaurya.

Lin Shu's breath halted.

Elder Feng Yu's sword trembled.

Every disciple felt the charged silence—the moment before lightning strikes.

Gou Yan snarled, voice booming like thunder trapped in a cave:

"You… I will kill you brat?"

Shaurya didn't blink.

He raised two fingers.

A gesture of casual challenge.

"Step forward," he said, voice soft but slicing through the corridor like a blade of ice.

"Let's see whether your mountain breaks… or whether I break you."

For a heartbeat—

The world held its breath.

The torches flickered.

The shadows recoiled.

Even the air seemed to retreat in fear.

Gou Yan roared—

A sound that shook the ancient hall, rattling stone fragments loose from the ceiling.

His aura exploded outward, a wave of crushing, suffocating spiritual pressure surging through the corridor like a collapsing mountain.

The stone beneath his feet cracked.

The walls shook.

The ground trembled.

Sanatan Flame Sect disciples staggered.

Lin Shu gasped, her hands flying to her sword.

Elder Wan's eyes widened.

"He's releasing everything—!!"

Gou Yan lunged.

The giant axe rose.

The full strength of a Nascent Soul Stage 9 Cultivator ignited.

The strike descended—

A blow powerful enough to shatter mountains, split rivers, and crush armies.

Shaurya's eyes narrowed.

He lifted his hand—

And the world went black.

To Be Continued…

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