Yao Xian stepped through the broken barrier into the inner disciple residence.
The silence that greeted her lasted exactly three heartbeats. Then, she opened her mouth.
"Your time is up!"
Her voice carried across the courtyard with the casual authority of someone announcing dinner was ready. Not threatening. Not dramatic. This is just a simple statement of fact that somehow made it worse.
The children at the entrance froze, their bodies tensing with the particular terror of prey that had just heard a predator speak. They hadn't seen an elder fight before—not truly. The glimpses they'd caught during training were demonstrations, carefully controlled displays of power designed to educate rather than destroy.
One small girl behind Yao immediately started panicking.
The inner disciples flooded into the courtyard.
They came from every building, every training ground, every meditation chamber—dozens of contaminated practitioners responding to the intrusion, their faces carrying the righteous fury of defenders protecting their home. They didn't know they were already monsters. Didn't know the corruption lived in their bones, waiting for the right trigger to transform them into the creatures they were meant to become.
There was only one way out of the residence.
And Yao Xian was standing in it.
A sword made of pure energy materialized in the air—dense conceptual power given form launched with the speed of thought toward the woman who had dared enter their territory.
Yao tilted her head slightly.
The sword passed through the space where her skull had been, continued past her, and struck the remnants of the barrier behind. Stone shattered. Energy dispersed. The impact left a crater three meters wide.
"Listen up, kids," Yao called over her shoulder, not bothering to look at the terrified children behind her. "I'm going to give you a war lecture ahead of time."
Another energy sword formed. This one came from the left, angled to catch her mid-dodge.
She didn't dodge.
The blade struck her shoulder and continued through, severing her arm completely. Golden blood sprayed across the courtyard stones, runic symbols pulsing within the fluid before it had even finished falling.
A boy in the back vomited.
"We're a superior species," she continued as if she hadn't just lost a limb. "At least, that's what they'll tell you."
She muttered something under her breath—too quiet for them to hear—as her arm began to regrow. Not slowly. Not gradually. The flesh simply erupted from the stump, bones extending, muscles wrapping, skin flowing over it all like water finding its course. "Fuck, that stings," she laughed, shaking the new arm like it was asleep.
"Speed. Strength. Divine sense. Perception. Regeneration." She flexed her new fingers experimentally. "You get all this as you evolve. Concept aside."
More attacks came.
Energy swords from three directions. She let them hit—one through her chest, one through her thigh, one taking her other arm at the elbow. Each wound regenerated before the severed parts hit the ground.
A girl whispered, "She's not even flinching..."
"I'm walking toward them," she said, taking another step forward as if the constant dismemberment was merely inconvenient rain. "To show you how special we are in the grand scheme of things."
Twenty-five inner disciples had surrounded her now.
She'd made sure of it—positioning herself to cover the only route to the children behind her. If any contaminated wanted to reach them, they'd have to go through her.
"Fact number one," she announced, dropping into a combat stance for the first time since entering. "We don't lose in physical fights against most species. What they work decades to achieve is just a bonus of our evolution."
She leapt.
The movement was so fast that several of the watching children lost track of her entirely. One moment, she was surrounded. The next, she was among the contaminated, her fists moving in patterns that seemed almost lazy despite their speed.
"Well, don't use me as an example," she added, dodging a kick that would have taken a normal person's head off. She grabbed one contaminated boy by the collar and looked him dead in the eyes. "You hear me, kid? Don't try this shit at home."
The boy screamed.
"When you see patterns in their battle techniques, infuse your concepts into your attacks. Subtly. Also—"
A physical sword—not energy, but actual metal—cut through her side, parting flesh and muscle with disturbing ease.
"—I'm a little special for my stage, so remember: analyzing and understanding patterns doesn't mean you can counter them."
She looked down at her injured side with clinical interest.
"That attack right there? It didn't just cut my body. It attacked my soul, too." She pressed a hand against the wound, golden blood seeping between her fingers. "You may have concepts, but can you withstand or nullify these kinds of attacks?"
She answered her own question: "No."
The watching children realized with growing unease that they couldn't actually follow most of what was happening. The movements were too fast, and the exchanges were too complex.
"You guys can't keep up, can you?" Yao called out, confirming their struggle. "Hmm. Tutorial ends here then."
Her entire demeanour shifted.
"Let's get serious."
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