Chuyin’s voice, a tight, barely audible whisper, ripped through the last vestiges of Fan Zhirui’s composure. The seed pulsed with cold venom against her skin. “This isn’t a defensive ward,” she repeated, the words chilling the air more effectively than any winter blast. “This is an internal lock. This seed… it’s designed to seal your inner gates. To trap you here. It’s not meant to protect your grounds, Zhirui. It’s meant to protect Ouyang Mo from *you*.” The words struck Fan Zhirui like an iron rod across the ribs. He reached out to seize the seed, his knuckles blanching, eager to grind it into dust. Before his hand met Chuyin's, a vast shadow blotted out the afternoon light above the crater. The surrounding dirt vibrated underfoot. Chuyin raised her chin, her mouth thinning into a flat line. "Company," she said. "And Kuang Yu didn't send scouts." Across the expanse of the sunken basin, an apparition coalesced in the upper air. Kuang Yu's projected image stretched a hundred zhang into the clouds, rendered in pale viridian mist. His visage twisted in wrath, his beard whipping like ragged vapor. The projection's roar shook loose loam from the terrace walls. "Fan Zhirui!" the roar boomed, thick with scorn. "Defiler of the blade! Your shovel-craft will buy you no mercy from our sovereign order. Kneel, and your remains might nourish common weed-stalks!" As the phantom shouted, a winged beast dropped through the clouds like an iron dart. Blue sparks arced across its armored hide, and its barbed tail curved overhead, each plate bristling with stored charge. It plunged toward the cultivation beds, intent on gouging the earth to gravel. Fan Zhirui tracked its plunge. He neither drew steel nor triggered the boundary formations sleeping in the loam. He raised his right hand. From his skin, a single emerald leaf detached and drifted upward. He brought his left fingers to meet it, folding with neat, steady creases. Beside him, Chuyin watched his fingers, her jaw set. Each fold produced a sharp crease. The leaf bent to his intent, turning from flat foliage into an angular bird. Within seconds, a folded crane drifted above his skin, its tiny foil wings fluttering on an unfelt draft. "A plaything?" Kuang Yu sneered, the phantom rippling with contempt. "You meet the high sect with nursery folded paper?!" The beast screamed, discharging blue columns thick as cedar boles directly toward the ridge. Ozone scorched the air, searing the nostrils with the stench of charred stone. Fan Zhirui flicked his index finger. The green crane shot forward. It did not contest the bolts; it skimmed between them, a swift speck against the white-blue glare. It banked, rose, and rolled. The bolts struck empty earth behind it, churning smoking furrows through the loam, while the bird drifted untouched. Along the high ridges ringing the crater, sword disciples watched from the crags. Mouths fell open; hands loosened on pommels as the sect's war-beast missed its mark against a folded scrap. "Enough!" Kuang Yu barks. The beast tucked its pinions, lunging forward with jaws agape, a churning ball of flash gathering in its gullet, tail poised to spear downward. The crane snapped its wings flat. The surrounding breeze sheared into hard blades, warping the air into transparent scythes. It became a silent green dart. Instead of diving at the beast's skull, the crane swung wide, gliding cleanly along the joint where wing-humerus met the torso. No explosion shook the crater. Two thin whistles cut through the monster's screech. Both armored wings sheared free. They cartwheeled through the air, spitting cold blue sparks, before slamming into the terrace mud with heavy thuds. Crippled mid-dive, the beast shrieked in bewilderment as it tumbled, crashing into the rich planting beds with a wet, bone-jarring impact that threw clumps of black earth into the sky. Silence blanketed the ridges. The onlookers stared down from the rocks, stunned into immobility. Kuang Yu's projected face warped, fractured along hairline fissures, and broke into pale jade dust that drifted away on the wind. [Victory achieved! Thunder-Scaled Manticore defeated!] [Massive cultivation boost granted!] [New skill unlocked: Verdant Gale Weaving!] [Reward: Azure Sky Lotus Seeds (x5)!] As the Tome carved its golden scripts across his inner sight, foreign essence surged through Fan Zhirui's meridians. The sudden flood drowned out his bitter thoughts, and his lips curved upward. Agony struck his ribs. The parasitic fibers gripping his heart convulsed at the new essence, driving barbed tendrils through his pleura and diaphragm. A wet cough tore through his throat. The terraces spun sideways. His knees gave out, his palms sinking into the soft soil. Another spasm racked his chest, and thick, glowing green bile and blood splattered across the dirt. He fell forward onto his side, sucking air through clenched teeth, while darkness encroached on his sight.

Severing the Thunder Scales