CHAPTER 175: CH-175: STOOD STILL

The borderlands east of the Feilun Sect were no longer fields of grass and stone. They had become a wound upon the land, scarred by the march of thousands. The horizon boiled with banners of foreign make—black cloth inked with blood-red sigils, fluttering above armies clad in twisted armor. The sound of war drums rolled across the plains like thunder, each beat a reminder of what was to come.

The Feilun Sect had answered. Upon the ridges and plateaus of their ancestral lands, cultivators stood arrayed in disciplined lines. Sword talismans hung at their belts, spirit beasts roared in their pens, and formation masters carved fresh runes into the earth.

Tian Shen stood at the forefront of the western ridge, silver spear in hand. The wind lashed his robes against his body, carrying the scent of smoke and iron from the approaching host. His silver flame flickered faintly along the spear’s edge, a quiet promise of the storm within him.

Feng Yin stood a step behind, her sword drawn, her aura flowing like moonlit water. To her left, Elder Su observed with a calm, severe gaze, his hands folded behind his back. And further still, the Sect Master himself stood with the dignity of a mountain, eyes unblinking as he watched the tide of enemies assemble below.

No one spoke. Words had long since lost their place.

The foreigners arrived in brutal order, their steps pounding the earth into submission. At their head marched the foreign leader. His fractured iron armor had been reforged into something monstrous—its surface plated with obsidian shards, veins of glowing crimson qi pulsing beneath like blood vessels. And upon his right arm gleamed the gauntlet, no longer cracked, but reforged with dark steel and etched with runes that bled shadow.

He raised it high as he stopped before the ridges. A roar swept through his army, tens of thousands bellowing in unison, shaking the air with sheer malice.

The Sect Master finally spoke, his voice deep, resonant, carried by qi across the battlefield. "Foreign leader. You cross into the Central Region with bloodied hands. Speak your purpose, or retreat before the mountain’s wrath consumes you."

The enemy leader laughed. His voice was harsh, grating, like iron striking stone. "Purpose? You ask me my purpose after your dog struck me down? After your sect humiliated me before my own men? I march not for conquest, but for vengeance! And once your corpses line the fields, I will take conquest besides!"

He thrust the gauntlet forward. Shadow qi burst from it like a flood, staining the air black. The runes upon his armor glowed, and from within the foreign army rose a chorus of warlocks, each weaving unfamiliar seals, their chants foreign and guttural. Strange obelisks—stone, bone, and iron—rose from the earth as if summoned, their surfaces glowing with alien symbols.

The Sect disciples shuddered. The very laws of qi twisted around those obelisks.

"Formation!" Elder Su’s voice cracked across the ridges. Instantly, Feilun disciples spread into lines, talismans igniting as geomancers activated the protective arrays etched into the plateau. Veins of light burst across the ridges, interlinking like rivers, forming a dome of radiant qi over the defenders.

The first strike came.

From the gauntlet erupted a colossal spear of shadow, tearing the air apart as it screamed toward the ridge. The Feilun barrier flared, runes burning white. The impact shook the mountain, cracks spiderwebbing across the stone. Disciples staggered, some coughing blood as the backlash of qi slammed into their bodies.

Tian Shen stepped forward. His spear leveled.

Silver fire surged as he thrust, piercing through the air. His qi condensed into a blazing arc that met the spear of shadow mid-flight. The clash erupted in a shockwave that hurled both energies apart, scattering sparks and darkness across the field. The disciples steadied. The barrier held.

The enemy leader’s eyes narrowed. "You again."

Tian Shen’s reply was a single word, cold and sharp: "Me."

Then the battlefield roared alive.

The foreign army surged forward, their warlocks chanting, their soldiers raising weapons twisted with alien qi. From the obelisks spilled monstrous constructs of bone and steel, lumbering abominations that carried war in their footsteps.

From the Feilun ridges, swords of light and fire talismans rained down, scorching lines of death across the enemy’s charge. Spirit beasts leapt from their pens, roaring, colliding with foreign constructs in bone-shattering clashes. The barrier flared again as volleys of dark energy slammed against it.

But the barrier was not meant to last forever.

Tian Shen leapt from the ridge. His spear blazed silver as he descended, crashing into the frontline like a falling star. Shadow soldiers screamed as his flames tore through them, each thrust erasing dozens, each sweep cutting swathes into the tide. His aura alone forced back the nearest foes, his presence a spearpoint driving into the heart of chaos.

Feng Yin followed, her blade carving arcs of moonlit brilliance. Where Tian Shen was storm, she was river—precise, flowing, unrelenting. Her strikes severed limbs and shadows alike, her aura weaving between his fury to shield his flanks.

The battlefield bent around them.

The foreign leader raised his gauntlet, summoning a colossal shadow beast from the earth—a wolf-like monstrosity, its fangs dripping with darkness. It roared and charged Tian Shen.

Tian Shen’s spear whistled as he spun. Silver fire erupted outward, forming a blazing wheel of light. The beast lunged—and Tian Shen’s strike cut through its skull, silver flames igniting its body from within. It collapsed in burning fragments, shrieking as it dissolved into nothing.

"Is this all your vengeance amounts to?" Tian Shen shouted, his voice carrying even over the storm of battle.

The foreign leader’s answer was to descend into the fray himself. His gauntlet pulsed, runes glowing as he charged, each step cracking the earth beneath him.

When their weapons met, the battlefield shook.

Spear and gauntlet collided in a storm of sparks and shadow. Their clash alone scattered soldiers like leaves in a gale, both friend and foe hurled aside. Silver fire met shadow qi, grinding against each other with a force that warped the air.

The foreign leader snarled. "You will die here, and your Sect with you!"

Tian Shen’s eyes blazed. "You failed once. You will fail again."

Their strikes blurred into a storm. The gauntlet’s power warped reality, conjuring arms of shadow that clawed from the void. Tian Shen’s spear cut through each one, silver arcs blazing like falling stars. Their auras clashed, each step cratering the ground, each blow echoing like thunder.

Meanwhile, on the ridge, Elder Su commanded the formations, his voice crisp and sharp. "Reinforce the northern flank! Do not let the barrier falter!" Runes flared brighter as disciples poured qi into them, their bodies trembling from the strain.

The Sect Master himself entered the fray, his sword aura sweeping through the battlefield like a hurricane, each swing erasing entire squads. The sight of him alone steadied wavering disciples, their fear hardened into resolve.

But still the tide pressed. The obelisks pulsed stronger, bleeding foreign qi into the battlefield. Constructs reformed even after destruction, soldiers fought with inhuman frenzy, and the warlocks’ chants only grew louder.

This was no ordinary invasion. This was corruption, alien and relentless, seeking to carve itself into the Central Region.

And at the heart of it stood Tian Shen, spear blazing, refusing to yield.

The clash between him and the foreign leader reached a crescendo. The gauntlet gathered power, the runes across its surface glowing so bright they threatened to split apart. A colossal shadow hand formed once again, descending to crush Tian Shen into dust.

But this time, Tian Shen did not merely thrust.

He roared. His qi surged, silver flames spiraling into a pillar that lit the battlefield. His dantian erupted, Utopian Core burning with unfathomable brilliance. He stepped forward, each movement resonating with the mountain beneath his feet.

His spear thrust once.

The silver arc that erupted was no longer flame—it was truth. It cut through the shadow hand as if through mist. It pierced the gauntlet, cracking its surface, shattering runes. The foreign leader screamed as blood sprayed from his arm, his aura staggering.

The battlefield froze for a breath. All eyes turned to that single clash, to the foreign leader reeling back, his gauntlet fractured once more.

Tian Shen stood unyielding, silver flames blazing brighter than ever.

"This land does not bow," he declared, voice like judgment itself. "Not to you. Not to any foreign tide."

The words thundered across the plains, steadying Feilun disciples, breaking the enemy’s momentum.

The storm had struck. And Tian Shen was its anchor.

But as the foreign leader staggered back, his eyes burned with hatred—not defeat. "This... is only the beginning," he snarled, before vanishing into the chaos of his army.

And with his retreat, the foreigners pulled back, their chants fading, their constructs crumbling into dust. The first clash had ended.

The Feilun Sect still stood.

But all who fought that day knew the truth: the storm had only just begun.