CHAPTER 158: CH-158: BAI LIAN

The southern gate loomed ahead, its lacquered beams scarred by lightning yet still defiant against the winds of war. Disciples lined the ramparts, their breaths misting in the crisp morning air. The wards flickered as elders infused them with qi, lines of light knitting into barriers across the mountain’s approach.

Yet for all their readiness, fear lingered—unspoken, but sharp as any blade.

The riders of crimson had not moved since halting, their banners hissing in the wind. Rows of armored figures sat atop scaled warhorses, each beast shrouded in faint spiritual fire. Their silence was louder than any battle cry.

Tian Shen walked alone to the threshold of the gate. His spear dragged lightly against the stone, sparks tracing his path. The younger disciples shrank back as he passed, awe and dread mingling in their eyes.

When he reached the gate, Sect Master Liang’s voice carried from above.

"Tian Shen."

The younger cultivator stopped, tilting his head upward. The Sect Master stood on the ramparts, hands folded within his sleeves, gaze unreadable.

"This storm is yours to meet. But remember—the Sect stands behind you. Do not mistake solitude for abandonment."

The words were simple, yet they struck like iron against Tian Shen’s chest. He inclined his head. "Understood."

Then he stepped through the gate.

The air outside was different—thicker, heavier, charged with killing intent. As Tian Shen descended the stone path toward the crimson host, the leader dismounted. His armor was deep red lacquer trimmed with gold, his helm shaped into the visage of a serpent. When he removed it, a scarred face was revealed, hard as carved rock, eyes burning with ruthless calculation.

"I am Commander Zhen of the Crimson Serpent Legion," he declared, his voice carrying unnaturally far. "By order of the Southern Dominion, I come to test the strength of the Feilun Sect’s so-called prodigy—he who has defied heaven."

Whispers stirred along the walls behind Tian Shen. The Dominion—one of the southern realms’ most feared militarized sects. Their reputation was not forged through diplomacy, but conquest.

Tian Shen planted the butt of his spear against the earth. "Test me, then."

Zhen smiled thinly. "So eager. Very well."

He gestured. From the ranks of riders, a figure rode forward. Not a man, but a woman—tall, draped in crimson silks over light armor, her blade gleaming with a cold aura. Her eyes were sharp, predatory.

"This is Bai Lian, our Crimson Fang. She will taste your strength first. Should you fall, then heaven’s tribulation was wasted."

Laughter rippled among the legion.

Bai Lian dismounted with a flourish, her boots crunching against the gravel. Her sword slid free, singing faintly with qi. "A boy who survived lightning," she said, her voice sharp as her blade. "Let us see if you can survive steel."

The duel began without signal.

Bai Lian lunged, her sword a streak of crimson light. The ground split where she struck, shards of stone flying upward. Yet Tian Shen was already gone, his body flickering aside like smoke.

His counter came swift—spear thrust, straight and precise, aimed for her shoulder. She twisted, parrying with a shriek of steel, sparks scattering between them.

Their clash thundered across the valley. Each strike of sword and spear echoed like a drumbeat, sending shockwaves rippling into the soil. Disciples on the wall clutched the railings as the ground trembled.

"She’s strong," Feng Yin muttered, watching from above. Her brows furrowed. "But his core... it’s stabilizing even as he fights. Every breath he takes makes him stronger."

Elder Su’s lips pressed thinly. "Good. He will need that strength."

...

Bai Lian struck again, her sword weaving arcs of red flame, each swing more ruthless than the last. She aimed not only for his flesh, but to break his rhythm, his focus.

But Tian Shen’s eyes were calm, his movements sharp. He parried, deflected, advanced—each thrust of his spear faster than the one before, until the air itself bent around its path.

Finally, with a burst of qi, he knocked her blade skyward, the shaft of his weapon slamming into her chest. She staggered back, coughing blood, her silks tearing.

The legion stirred uneasily.

Bai Lian snarled, wiping her mouth. "Impressive. But I am not finished!"

Her sword ignited, flames roaring skyward as she channeled a forbidden technique. Her qi flared crimson, forming the image of a serpent coiling behind her. She charged again—this time with killing intent unleashed.

Tian Shen’s grip tightened. The Utopian Core within him pulsed, resonating with the world. The whisper in his chest grew louder. Danger.

He did not retreat.

As Bai Lian struck, Tian Shen thrust his spear forward, qi erupting in a surge of lightning. The valley lit in blinding white, a thunderclap shattering the morning air.

When the light cleared, Bai Lian lay crumpled on the ground, her sword shattered, her serpent image dissipated into smoke.

Tian Shen stood unmoving, spear steady, aura rolling outward like a tide.

A silence hung heavy.

Then, Commander Zhen chuckled. Slowly, he clapped his gauntleted hands together.

"Well done. Truly, heaven has not wasted its lightning upon you." His eyes glinted, but his smile carried no warmth. "But understand this—your strength may shield the Feilun Sect today. Tomorrow, it will draw greater storms."

He raised his hand, and the legion wheeled back in unison, banners snapping.

"This is no retreat," Zhen warned, his voice carrying like a curse across the valley. "This is the first stroke of a war. The Southern Dominion will not allow a Utopian Core to rise unclaimed."

With that, the crimson riders turned and vanished down the southern pass, leaving only churned earth and heavy dread behind.

When Tian Shen returned to the Sect, the disciples erupted in hushed cheers, relief spilling into their voices. Some called his name, others whispered of his victory.

Yet the elders’ faces were grim.

Sect Master Liang descended from the walls, his robes whispering against the stone. He looked at Tian Shen not as a master to disciple, but as one sovereign to another.

"You fought well," Liang said. "But you have lit a fire that will not be easily quenched. The Dominion will come again—and next time, it will not be a single warrior they send, but armies."

Tian Shen met his gaze, unflinching. "Then I will fight armies."

Liang sighed softly. "So young, and already carrying the arrogance of heaven itself." Yet his eyes held no scorn—only something like sorrow.

That night, the Sect did not rest. Wards were strengthened, supplies rationed, messages dispatched to allies in neighboring sects. Scouts were sent farther afield, watching for signs of Dominion movements.

In his chamber, Tian Shen sat cross-legged, spear resting across his knees. The Utopian Core pulsed within him, radiant yet restless. Each thrum whispered louder: danger, danger, danger.

But there was something else now—something hidden beneath the warning. A faint pull, as though the world itself beckoned him toward paths unwalked.

When he opened his eyes, Feng Yin stood at the doorway, her lantern casting shadows across her face.

"You should rest," she said quietly.

He gave a small smile. "I cannot. Not while storms gather."

She hesitated, then stepped inside, setting the lantern down. "Then don’t carry it alone."

For a moment, neither spoke. The world outside roared with uncertainty, but within that small chamber, the silence was enough.

...

Days passed. Scouts returned with troubling news—the Dominion’s banners were multiplying in the valleys. Their camps grew daily, fortifications spreading like roots. The Crimson Serpent Legion was no raiding party. It was the vanguard of war.

And yet, the Dominion was not the only storm.

Reports came from the north of demonic beasts stirring, drawn by the echo of Tian Shen’s tribulation. Rogue sects had begun sending envoys under false pretenses, probing for weakness. Even within Feilun, some disciples whispered fearfully, wondering if Tian Shen’s rise had cursed them all.

Sect Master Liang called another council. "We cannot hold alone," he declared. "Our neutrality has ended. We must seek alliances, or we will be devoured one gate at a time."

"But alliances mean entanglements," Elder Hua objected. "Old debts, old grudges."

"Better grudges than extinction," Elder Su retorted.

The hall erupted in debate. Through it all, Tian Shen remained silent, his gaze turned inward.

At last, when the voices dimmed, he rose.

"Let me go south," he said. "Not as a soldier, but as a message. If the Dominion seeks to test me, let them face me directly. Better that I draw their fire beyond these walls than let the Sect wither behind them."

Liang’s eyes narrowed. "To walk into their jaws alone?"

Tian Shen lifted his spear. "Better me than the Sect. Heaven has already tried to erase me. If men would do the same, then let them come."

...

That night, as moonlight washed the mountains, Tian Shen stood again on the eastern cliff. The wind carried scents of pine and ash, the distant rumble of drums from the south.

The world was changing. Storms gathered from every horizon.

He closed his eyes. The Utopian Core throbbed within, steady as a heartbeat. Stronger. Sharper. Waiting.

When he opened them, he whispered to the horizon:

"So be it."

And the night seemed to whisper back.