Qiu Xian's first step rang out on the wet stone.
The sound echoed through the cavern like a muffled thunderclap.
The short blade gleamed under the flickering lamp.
Bai Feng didn't move — but the wind inside him churned like a rift about to split open.
Qiu Xian smiled, languid, almost pitying.
"A boy planting roots in the mud," he rasped, voice rough as dry bamboo. "You really want to face me, orphan?"
He took another step — the blade sliced the air, grazing Bai Feng's throat by a breath.
Bai Feng moved.
It wasn't a step — it was a slide, like wind slipping through cracks.
The blade's edge kissed his skin but found no flesh.
Qiu Xian let out a low laugh, a sound like steel scraping steel.
"I've killed men twice your strength," he said, spinning the blade in his hand, his purple sleeve rustling like crow feathers.
"And women. And children." His smile stretched wider, almost lazy.
"Did you know a heart beats the same, young or old? When the blade cuts… it all sounds the same."
He lunged.
The blade came in short arcs — quick, precise, like a needle seeking veins.
Bai Feng raised his forearm, feeling the wind inside him guide his wrist.
He deflected one slash, softened another.
Sparks flew as the blade scraped the stone behind him.
Qiu Xian scoffed — and with a crack, the Guardian took shape behind him.
A spectral lizard, long as a viper, pale as smoke.
Its eyes were two white slits, its tail swaying in silence.
"See this?" Qiu Xian growled, proud. "You plant seeds. I cultivate fangs."
A dry snap — the aura lizard lunged with its master.
Bai Feng stepped back, feeling the warm wind crawl up his spine.
He breathed — his chest opening like a breached dam.
Behind him, something flickered.
Faint, trembling — but there.
A fox of wind, shaped in blue, draped his shoulders like a cloak.
Its ethereal tail curled in the air, sniffing the void.
Qiu Xian barked a laugh.
"A cub?" he mocked. "That's all?"
The spectral lizard snapped its jaws.
The fox growled, a whispering sound like leaves in a storm.
They clashed.
Man and Guardian — blade and wind.
Qiu Xian swung like a scythe — dry, precise, ravenous.
The blade tore stone, sparking in the dark.
Bai Feng weaved — each breath was a step.
The wind spun, wrapping fists, arms, legs.
When Bai Feng struck, the air turned his punch into a blade.
Qiu Xian stepped back, snarled.
"Clever. But not enough."
He raised his free hand — formed a quick seal.
The blade floated — spun in the air like an iron bird.
A flying sword, fed by the lizard's aura.
"Mid Stage, trash," Qiu Xian spat, eyes wild. "You're a sprout. I'm a trunk."
The sword hummed, slicing the air in circles.
Bai Feng raised his arm — the blue fox leapt like solid wind.
It collided with the sword, pushing it to the ceiling.
The blade scraped stone, sparks dripping like hot rain.
"Have you killed?" Bai Feng rasped. "Have you felt the wind tear you from inside?"
He surged forward.
One punch. Then another.
Each blow flared with aura — blue, pulsing, cutting.
Qiu Xian cursed — the lizard lunged, jaws aimed for Bai Feng's chest.
But the fox twisted, swift — bit the lizard, a snap of wind shredding it to mist.
The cave floor cracked — the ceiling dripped pebbles.
Outside, the mercenaries hunched behind wet rocks, torches trembling.
"Leave it, Master Qiu's gonna crush that whelp," one whispered.
Another shook his head, swallowing hard.
"Don't stick your face in it, idiot. That wind cuts soul."
Inside, Qiu Xian ground his teeth.
Blood dripped from a cut on his forehead — he wiped it with his sleeve.
"You shouldn't exist," he growled. "A nameless dog. A worm with wind in its bones."
The flying sword spun — dived for Bai Feng.
But this time, Bai Feng spread his arms — the wind inside him expanded.
The fox spun — two, three tails of mist flicked out behind it.
Each tail spun the wind like a glass blade.
The sword struck — bounced away.
Bai Feng advanced.
One punch. Another.
Qiu Xian stumbled back — tripped on wet stone.
Bai Feng spoke low — but the wind carried each syllable:
"I'm not dust. Not stone. I'm the fissure that opens all."
He leapt — his fist closing like thunder.
It struck Qiu Xian's chest — cracked ribs, snuffed out the lizard's aura.
Qiu Xian spat blood.
Still, he laughed — a mad, ragged sound.
Even coughing blood, Qiu Xian smiled like a wound.
"I've broken men bigger than you with words alone, boy," he spat, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
"Want to know the difference between a sprout and a trunk? The trunk bleeds… but it doesn't fall."
He raised his arms — the seal between his fingers flared red.
The spectral lizard, scattered to mist, bubbled up again behind him — bigger now, thick as a bamboo trunk, tail lashing the cave walls.
Stones quaked. Bits of moss rained from the ceiling.
"See this?!" Qiu Xian roared, veins bulging in his neck. "See?! Every life I've ripped feeds my scales! You have wind, orphan — I have corpses in my roots!"
The flying sword spun above his head — now ablaze in blue flames, sparks leaping off the blade.
Bai Feng staggered back a step — breathed. Blood dripped from his shoulder, splattering the cracked floor.
The fox behind him shivered — three more tails bloomed, swirling like silk ribbons in a storm.
Qiu Xian lunged — a dry leap, almost silent.
The sword dived in a spiral, aimed for Bai Feng's throat.
At the same moment, the lizard roared — jaws of smoke snapping for the boy's leg.
Bai Feng shut his eyes.
The wind spun in his throat, sank to his belly — whirled.
When he opened his eyes, it was like a storm breathed inside him.
He sidestepped — the lizard bit stone, cracking rocks to dust.
The sword grazed him, slicing his cheek — hot blood, but the flesh held.
The fox burst forward — its tails split like blades. One stabbed the lizard's spectral throat, another coiled around the flying blade, knocking it aside.
Qiu Xian stomped the ground, cracking the floor.
"WORM!" he bellowed, spitting. "YOU WON'T BREAK MY TRUNK!"
He slammed the seal shut with both hands — the lizard growled, cracks of light spreading through its spectral body, doubling it into twin beasts, tails lashing.
Bai Feng breathed deep — the wind spun on his tongue.
"And if the trunk rots?" he murmured, low as a breath.
Qiu Xian laughed, blood spitting onto stone.
"I WON'T ROT!" he roared. "I AM ROOT — ROOT DOESN'T TURN TO DUST!"
He charged.
The flying sword split into two smaller blades, spinning like steel wasps.
The double lizard bit the fox — blue and gray mist tangled, swirling like an aura storm.
Bai Feng surged forward — fists open, wind spinning on his skin.
He struck — his punch split one lizard's chest in two. The mist hissed but stitched back together.
The sword slashed his arm — a deep cut, raw flesh. Bai Feng grunted but twisted his body, using the wind to shove the blade aside.
Qiu Xian punched Bai Feng's chest hard.
His body slammed into the cavern wall — dust rained from above.
"YES!" Qiu Xian screamed, face red with rage and thrill. "See, boy?! I'm no wall — I'm a forest! Every drop of your blood feeds my root!"
He raised his hand.
The sword buried into the ground. The lizard split again — three heads, three tails.
Jaws snapped in the dark, spewing gray aura.
Bai Feng staggered forward, shoulder bleeding.
The cracked fox rose — tails quivering, ears low.
A howl whispered — like wind through gravestones.
Bai Feng breathed — a trickle of blood slid from his mouth.
"I'm not sprout," he said, voice low, but the wind carried it like thunder. "Not trunk. I'm the void between."
He stepped — the air around him quivered.
The fox stretched long — almost a blue wind-serpent, gliding over cracked stone.
Qiu Xian lifted the short blade again — the seal burned his fingers, veins pulsing.
"THEN COME, DOG!" he roared. "SHOW ME IF WIND CAN CARVE LIVING BONE!"
They collided.
Fist to fist.
Guardian to Guardian.
Sword spinning, tail slashing, stone splitting.
Outside, the mercenaries trembled — one crossed himself, another dropped to his knees, shaking like a thin branch.
Inside, Bai Feng felt the wind burning his chest — every heartbeat a living blade.
Qiu Xian roared, spitting blood but smiling like a cornered beast.
The cave shook — cracks crawled across the walls.
The air inside seemed to boil — every breath scraped the chest like glass.
Qiu Xian howled, moving like a wounded predator.
His spectral lizard spun in three heads, biting empty air, jaws snapping smoke.
Bai Feng's fox now flickered, fractured, but its tails danced like blades of wind — sharp, hungry.
"YOU'LL DIE!" Qiu Xian screamed, blood splattering stone. "YOU'LL TURN TO FERTILIZER FOR MY ROOT!"
He twisted the short blade — formed a new seal, fingers bleeding where the energy scorched skin.
The flying sword crackled in the air — split again, four smaller blades, like falcon talons.
They spun, shrieking, diving like nails from the sky.
Bai Feng raised his arm — blood ran down fresh cuts.
He drew a deep breath — the wind inside him turned into a howl.
The cracked fox lifted its head — its tails snapped.
One more, another — five, six blue tails, spiraling.
When the blades dove, the tails slashed the air — shards of aura sparked, metal shattering on impact.
Qiu Xian charged through the wake — short blade in hand, aimed at Bai Feng's chest.
They collided.
One blow. Another. Fists striking like boulders tumbling down a cliff.
The fox bit the lizard — one head burst into mist. Another twisted, hissing like a snake in flame.
Qiu Xian landed a punch on Bai Feng's jaw — the crack of bone echoed like a drum.
Bai Feng dropped to his knees, coughing blood.
But he raised his head — eyes sunken, gleaming in the gloom.
"You… don't understand," Bai Feng growled, spitting a tooth, a cracked smile. "It's not my trunk that grows. It's the void that opens."
Qiu Xian barked a broken laugh.
"OUT OF BREATH?" he shouted, yanking Bai Feng by the collar. "I'LL SHOW YOU HOW IT FEELS TO SUFFOCATE IN YOUR OWN WIND!"
The blade pressed to Bai Feng's throat — a bead of blood slipped free.
But the fox behind him pulsed — its tails fused into a whirlwind, a blue vortex spinning like a storm's eye.
Qiu Xian froze — for a heartbeat.
He felt the air pull inward — the blade trembled in his hand.
"What…" he snarled, eyes wide.
Bai Feng breathed — a single word, a whisper that sounded like thunder:
"Vanish."
The wind exploded.
Aura spiraled — swallowing Qiu Xian in a hug of invisible blades.
The fox stretched long — almost a wolf of mist, biting into the lizard's chest.
The three heads screeched — faded into strands of smoke.
Qiu Xian howled — the roar of a proud beast that refuses the ground.
He twisted the blade — tried to stab Bai Feng.
But the wind twisted it aside — the sword struck stone, bounced away.
Bai Feng lunged — fist clenched like stone.
One punch to the gut — Qiu Xian folded.
Another to the jaw — teeth scattered on wet stone.
The fox spun around him — its tails lashed his chest, shredding the purple robe, tearing flesh.
"I DON'T FALL!" Qiu Xian bellowed, trying to rise. "I AM ROOT! I—"
Bai Feng didn't hear him.
The wind roared so loud inside him that all became silence.
He raised his arm — fist clenched — wind spinning around him like a crown.
One last punch.
Qiu Xian slammed into the cave wall — the impact split stone, dust falling like gray snow.
His body slid down, dropped to his knees — eyes glazed, mouth open in a final breath that never came.
The blue fox floated behind Bai Feng — its tails waving like banners in an abandoned temple.
Bai Feng dropped to his knees too — he breathed, chest heaving like a torn bellows.
The wind inside him didn't hush — but it didn't carry him away, either.
At the cave's mouth, the mercenaries shrank back — eyes wide, hands trembling on still-sheathed swords.
Qiu Xian's body slumped against the wall, purple robes soaked with dust and blood.
Bai Feng's wind-fox flickered, weak but still hovering behind him — its tails unraveling into wisps of mist.
Bai Feng gasped — each breath a blade scraping his throat.
His fists were torn, the blue aura flickering, nearly gone.
The mercenaries at the cave mouth glanced at each other.
For a moment, the silence felt heavy as stone.
Then one — a broad-foreheaded man with a dirty beard — spat on the ground.
"He's weak now," he growled, raising his short sword. "Go! Finish what Master Qiu started!"
The others surged forward — boots smashing muddy puddles, torches swaying like serpents of flame.
Bai Feng tried to lift his fist — but his arm shook, refused him.
The fox behind him hunched low, nearly gone.
The first mercenary roared — blade raised, aiming for Bai Feng's exposed throat.
Bai Feng gritted his teeth, eyes locked — there was no fear, only exhaustion.
But the wind inside him still breathed.
The moment the blade fell — the air shifted.
A sound split the night — like bamboo cracking in thunder.
Something gleamed above the entrance — a gray-robed figure, standing in the air as if stepping on cloud.
A bamboo staff spun in skeletal hands — the wind bent around him as if obeying.
Abbot Mingxu.
The mercenaries froze — eyes wide, mouths open.
The broad-foreheaded man tried to turn — but a shadow fell.
The staff swept the air — a dry arc, like a branch slicing winter.
The mercenary's blade shattered before it touched Bai Feng — the man flew backward, slamming into the wall with a cry swallowed by dust.
Mingxu landed on the cave floor like a falling leaf — light, but immovable.
His sunken eyes met Bai Feng's — then swept over the men still trembling at the entrance.
He raised the staff, pointing — a silent gesture that was both command and sentence.
The mercenaries dropped their weapons — the clatter of metal on stone echoed like broken bells.
Bai Feng breathed — let the wind inside him sigh one last time, like an animal curling back to sleep.
The Abbot placed a hand on his shoulder — the touch was light, yet firm as an old root.
Outside, the wind howled.
Inside the cave, all was silence — the hush before a new storm.