The air rippled faintly as Lin Canghua took another step.
This time, no golden array bloomed beneath his feet. No thunder rolled, no sky split open.
But the ground shuddered — softly, rhythmically, as if matching the beat of a heart.
Lin Canghua exhaled. His sleeve drifted, ash scattering in the dim light.
> "You've proven resilient," he murmured. "Then let's see how long that core of yours can endure."
Qi flared once more around him — not bursting outward, but drawing inward. Compressed, refined, pulled into spiraling threads that wrapped tightly around his arms. The glow wasn't blinding this time; it was sharp, steady, contained.
The lizard's eyes narrowed. Its instincts screamed again. This was different — not expansion, not suppression, but condensation.
> "Another technique," it thought. "Is it also a sealing art?"
Golden runes surfaced briefly across Lin Canghua's skin, tracing the pattern of his own meridians. With a twist of his wrist, they ignited — and vanished.
The world didn't explode. It folded inward.
A pulse of qi surged outward, invisible yet suffocating. The lizard flinched as the energy it was gathering stuttered — its lightning faltered, recoiling into its body.
> "W-what is this? It looks similar to the sealing art that mid-stage cultivator used to try and bind me— huh?"
Its core shuddered, qi flow buckling against unseen resistance. The violent lightning that had once roared freely now turned inward, thrashing against its own core.
Lin Canghua moved. One step — and he disappeared, reappearing beside the lizard. Its eyes widened to see him vanish.
One palm.
The golden light around his hand flared, brighter with each heartbeat. When he struck, the sound was muted — not a boom, but a thrum, like a bell struck underwater.
The lizard's eyes caught him from the corner of its vision. Wings snapped — it reacted instantly, covering itself.
The impact sent ripples through the courtyard. The lizard was driven down, its form crashing like a missile into the courtyard floor, an explosion of dust and stone erupting with unstable arcs of lightning as its energy scrambled from the crater.
For a moment, everything flickered — silence, save for the faint crackle of lightning and a ragged cough — until both faded, leaving only smoke and stillness.
Lin Canghua straightened, hovering above, lowering his hand. His breathing was calm, though a faint tremor ran down his arm.
> "Reversing a beast's energy back to its core… takes a toll," he muttered. "Let's call it even."
Across the courtyard, the smoke hadn't even cleared when movement stirred within it.
The rubble shifted.
A claw, scorched black at the edges, tore through the dust.
The lizard rose, staggering upright, scales scratched but eyes still burning with defiance. Its tongue flicked out, licking the blood from its maw. Wings half-folded, it steadied itself.
> "My energy was suddenly pushed back when I tried to release it… it turned against me," it thought, wings trembling. "So that's what the technique does — reverted energy."
Lin Canghua's brows drew together slightly.
> "You're still standing after that? Then you've earned the right to die."
He stared down, qi surging.
Below, the lizard stared back. Golden eyes glowed.
Canghua's own gaze gleamed faintly with the same gold — then suddenly narrowed. His body convulsed as he coughed out a stream of blood. His meridians were collapsing, energy running out of control. Blood spilled from his mouth, eyes, nose, and ears.
The lizard, still staring with unblinking golden eyes, exhaled a long, shuddering breath — violet sparks flickering and bursting across its scales. Air crackled around it. Wings spread wide — and in a flash of lightning, it vanished, reappearing before Canghua with jaws wide, fangs crackling with power as it bit down.
CLANG...
The lizard's jaws slammed into a barrier surrounding Canghua. Sparks flew as its fangs ground against the shield.
Inside, Lin Canghua's eyes widened. His mouth opened as he gasped, breathing heavily, face pale and confused.
> "What was that? It was as if my spiritual consciousness was being torn apart. I didn't even know what happened — I lost control of my energy, and it ran wild, causing internal injury. My consciousness is in an even worse state. If I don't—"
CLANG!
He was cut off by the sound of metal striking metal.
The lizard's horns scraped against the barrier. It thrust forward again, tearing through the air.
CLANG!
It struck once more, sparks scattering — but the barrier remained unscathed. The lizard didn't stop. It blurred into motion, striking the barrier continuously.
Lin Canghua's thoughts churned. It's trying to breach the barrier. If it keeps this up, my energy won't hold. My meridians are in shambles, and my consciousness can barely stay intact.
For the first time, Lin Canghua trembled faintly — not from fear, but from strain. His meridians ached; his reserves were half-spent. He exhaled slowly, glanced at his trembling hand, then reached toward his pouch.
A soft chime echoed through the ruined courtyard.
From his pouch, a narrow jade cylinder slid into his palm — smooth, simple, yet pulsing faintly with sealed light.
The lizard halted its attack, eyes fixing on Lin Canghua inside the barrier.
> "Huh? That's a spirit tool—"
Lin Canghua lifted the object with both hands. With a flick of his thumb, the seal at its base unraveled.
Golden light spilled out — not wild or overwhelming, but precise, disciplined, alive.
> "I hadn't planned to use this," he said quietly. "But you've earned the honor."
> I need to end it quickly, he thought, for my qi and spiritual consciousness to stabilize.
The cylinder unfolded, segments rotating with mechanical precision until it extended into a slender spear — its shaft etched with flowing meridian patterns, its tip burning with quiet radiance.
> "Spirit Tool — Meridian Breaker Spear."
The air hummed. Each breath grew heavier. The weapon wasn't just metal — it resonated with his core, amplifying the flow of qi that had nearly run dry.
The lizard crouched low on the courtyard floor, wings tightening. Its lightning flared again, violet streaks cutting through the air as its golden eyes blazed.
> "He's using a tool," it thought, narrowing its eyes. "His energy's fading, but that weapon… it's feeding on his qi. It feels like the sealing art all over again!"
Lin Canghua spun the spear once — the motion silent, fluid, terrifyingly precise. The tip traced an arc of golden light through the air, and the earth responded with a low, vibrating hum.
> "No more playing around. Let's end this," he said, voice like a quiet storm.
He stepped forward.
Golden qi erupted from the spear's tip, twisting into a spiral that carved through the ruined courtyard, splitting stone and smoke alike.
The lizard's maw glowed blue with lightning. It roared, launching a blinding blast — a sonic wave of pure force, lightning meeting gold once more.
But this time, the golden light didn't disperse. It cut through.
The clash lit the night again — not with chaos, but with sharp, perfect brilliance.