Chapter 4 : Bloodline Awakening
The Bronze-Scaled River Serpent thrashed violently, its wounded eye spilling blood into the current. Water roared like thunder, crashing against the banks, as though the river itself was enraged by Lin Feng's defiance.
His chest heaved. His arms burned. The assassin's sword quivered in his grip, its edge chipped from the desperate strike. He had managed to wound the beast, but that was all.
The serpent's hiss shook the air, fangs bared, amber eyes burning with murderous hatred. It coiled its massive body, muscles rippling beneath gleaming scales, before launching forward again.
Lin Feng's breath stilled. I cannot run. I cannot falter.
The serpent's tail whipped through the air, a bronze blur.
He barely raised his sword in time. The impact slammed into him like a hammer, sending him flying backward. He crashed against a tree, bark splintering, pain blooming across his ribs. The taste of iron filled his mouth.
If I falter, I die.
He staggered to his feet. His legs shook, but his eyes were sharp, burning with something far stronger than fear.
The serpent lunged again. Time seemed to stretch. The beat of his heart echoed in his ears. His father's voice whispered from memory:
"The blood of the Lin is not weak. It is ancient, bound to Samsara itself. When the world crushes you, let your blood roar against Heaven."
A pulse surged within him. His veins lit like molten fire. The world shifted.
Suddenly, the serpent's strike no longer blurred—it slowed, every ripple in its coils visible, every droplet of water glistening in the sunlight.
Lin Feng's pupils contracted. The pulse was his bloodline—awakened by life and death.
Primordial Lin Blood… it's awakening within me.
With a roar, he gripped the sword with both hands, pushing forward. The serpent's fangs closed down—only to meet steel driven by bloodline power.
The blade pierced into the serpent's other eye.
A screech split the forest, the serpent thrashing so violently the riverbanks cracked. Lin Feng was thrown to the ground, but he refused to release the hilt. He twisted, driving the sword deeper.
At last, with one final roar, the Bronze-Scaled River Serpent collapsed. Its coils shuddered, its body convulsed, and then it lay still, half-submerged in the stream.
Silence fell.
Lin Feng collapsed to his knees, chest heaving, every muscle screaming in agony. His hands were slick with blood, both his own and the beast's. Yet when he looked upon the serpent's corpse, a wild laugh tore from his throat.
"I… I killed it."
Not with luck, but with defiance. With bloodline. With his will.
He dragged himself to the carcass, trembling fingers prying at its skull. It was gruesome work, but at last, he pulled free a glowing crystal orb the size of a fist. The serpent's beast core.
It pulsed with spiritual energy, warm in his palm, its light reflecting in his eyes. This was no ordinary trophy. Beast cores were priceless—they could be sold, refined, or used to strengthen cultivation.
"This… will be the foundation of my rise," Lin Feng whispered, clutching it tightly.
---
But victory did not come without ghosts.
As he sat by the serpent's corpse, exhaustion dragging at his limbs, the roar of water lulled him into a haze.
And in that haze, memories surfaced.
The night of fire.
The screams of children.
The clash of steel in the Lin courtyards.
He remembered the gates of the clan compound swinging open—not broken, but opened from within. Through the smoke, he glimpsed the Wu Clan's crest painted on the armor of those pouring in. Allies who had pledged loyalty… now murderers in the night.
Then came the banners of the Ironblade Sect, their warriors retreating into the darkness, abandoning the Lin despite swearing brotherhood. Their silence was betrayal sharper than any blade.
And above them all, watching from the sky, had been a figure cloaked in gold. A mask hid its face, but Lin Feng would never forget the suffocating pressure that pressed upon the battlefield. Even his father, a man of indomitable will, had looked up at that figure with eyes full of despair.
The fires burned hotter in his memory, the stench of blood thicker.
Lin Feng's fists clenched until his nails dug into his flesh. His vision blurred with tears he refused to shed.
"Mo Clan. Wu Clan. Ironblade Sect. Heavenly Star Sect… and the one behind the mask." His voice was low, trembling not with fear, but with hatred. "You carved my clan into ashes. You think I will die here, alone, forgotten?"
He looked at the beast core, glowing faintly in his bloodied palm.
"No. I will live. I will rise. And one day, you will kneel."
The forest wind carried his vow, fierce and unyielding, across the silent trees.
---
That night, Lin Feng built no fire. He sat beneath the stars, his back against the serpent's cooling corpse, his sword beside him. The beast core glowed faintly, illuminating his face in silver light.
The pain of his wounds did not matter. The fear of the forest no longer mattered.
He had crossed the line between prey and predator.
From this night onward, Lin Feng was no longer just a survivor of tragedy.
He was the seed of vengeance.