The wind howled through the village, carrying with it the scent of rain and the promise of an approaching storm. The sky above was thick with dark clouds, casting everything in a heavy gloom as the first drops began to fall. Lin Yu stood outside the village hall, his eyes scanning the horizon. The villagers were moving quickly now, preparing as best they could for what was coming. Some armed themselves with whatever weapons they could find—rusty swords, farming tools, and makeshift spears—while others fortified the village walls, reinforcing them with wooden beams and stone.
Despite their efforts, Lin Yu couldn't shake the gnawing feeling of dread that had settled deep in his chest. He had convinced the village to prepare, but how much of a difference could it make? They were up against the Hand of Xiangliu, a cult that had spent centuries preparing for the resurrection of an ancient, destructive force. Could they really stop something like that with a few villagers armed with farm tools?
He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, feeling the weight of the blade in his hand. The mark on his wrist throbbed lightly, a constant reminder of the power lurking inside him. It was quiet now, but the whispers of Xiangliu were never far away, waiting for a moment of weakness.
Elder Wu approached, his staff tapping softly against the ground. The old master's face was calm, though his eyes were heavy with the knowledge of what lay ahead. "You've done well, Lin Yu. The village is preparing, and that's the first step."
Lin Yu nodded, though his voice was tight. "But is it enough? These people aren't warriors. If the cult comes for us, I'm not sure we'll be able to hold them off."
Elder Wu placed a hand on his shoulder. "Strength doesn't always come from skill in battle. It comes from resolve. The villagers are afraid, yes, but they are also determined to protect their home. That determination is a force in itself."
Lin Yu sighed, his eyes drifting to the gathering clouds. "I just hope it's enough."
Before Elder Wu could respond, Zhao Feng approached at a brisk pace, his expression grim. "There's movement on the road," he said quietly. "Scouts reported seeing a group of armed figures approaching from the west. They're still a few hours away, but it's them. The Hand of Xiangliu is coming."
Lin Yu's heart pounded. He had known this was coming, but hearing it confirmed sent a chill through him. The cult was already on the move, and they were coming straight for the village.
"How many?" Elder Wu asked, his voice calm but sharp.
"Hard to say," Zhao Feng replied. "The scouts saw at least a dozen, but there could be more. They're moving in small groups, likely trying to avoid detection until they're closer."
Lin Yu's mind raced. A dozen cultists, or more. And that was just the first wave. If the Hand of Xiangliu was attacking in force, there could be many more hidden in the shadows. The village wasn't ready for this.
"We'll need to slow them down," Lin Yu said, his voice firm. "We can't let them reach the village all at once. If we can divide their forces, we might stand a better chance."
Elder Wu nodded. "Agreed. We need to disrupt their approach before they reach the walls. Zhao Feng, take a group of the villagers and set up defenses at the western edge of the forest. Use the terrain to your advantage—make it difficult for them to move in large numbers."
Zhao Feng nodded quickly. "I'll take care of it."
As Zhao Feng hurried off, Lin Yu turned to Elder Wu. "What about me? Where do you need me?"
Elder Wu's gaze was steady. "You'll be with me. We'll meet the cultists head-on when they reach the village. You're the strongest fighter we have, Lin Yu, and we'll need your strength when the time comes."
Lin Yu swallowed hard, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. He had trained for this, fought to protect the village and stop the cult's plans, but now that the moment was here, the pressure was almost overwhelming. His hand drifted to the mark on his wrist, feeling the faint pulse of Xiangliu's power beneath his skin.
**It's only a matter of time,** the serpent's voice whispered, soft and insistent. **They are coming for you, Lin Yu. And when they do, you will need me.**
He pushed the voice aside. He couldn't afford to listen to it now. Not when the fate of the village was at stake.
Elder Wu seemed to sense his inner conflict. "Lin Yu," he said gently, "you must focus. The cult wants to use your connection to Xiangliu against you. They will try to break you. But remember—your strength comes from your will, not the serpent's power. Trust yourself."
Lin Yu nodded, though the doubt still lingered in the back of his mind. Could he really fight this battle without drawing on Xiangliu's power? The cultists were fanatically devoted, their strength fueled by their belief in the serpent's return. How could he hope to stand against them without tapping into the same force?
As the hours passed, the village grew more tense. The rain had started to fall in earnest, turning the dirt paths to mud and soaking the hastily built defenses. Villagers moved in groups, whispering nervously to one another as they prepared for the attack. Lin Yu stood by the village gate, his sword drawn and ready, his eyes scanning the road for any sign of movement.
The first cultist appeared just as the light began to fade. He was cloaked in dark robes, his face hidden beneath a hood. Lin Yu's heart quickened as more figures emerged from the trees, their movements deliberate, silent, as if they were shadows themselves. There were at least fifteen of them, moving in a tight formation as they approached the village walls.
Elder Wu stepped forward, his staff glowing faintly with spiritual energy. "Hold the line," he said calmly. "Wait until they're close."
Lin Yu gripped his sword tightly, his pulse pounding in his ears. The rain poured down in sheets, blurring the edges of his vision as the cultists drew nearer. He could feel the tension building, the moment before the storm hit.
Then, with a sudden burst of speed, the cultists charged.
"Now!" Elder Wu shouted.
Lin Yu moved instinctively, his sword flashing in the rain as he met the first cultist head-on. The man's blade clashed against his own, the force of the impact vibrating up his arm. Lin Yu pushed forward, using his momentum to drive the cultist back, but more were already upon him.
The village erupted into chaos as the cultists attacked in waves, their dark robes swirling in the rain as they fought with savage intensity. The villagers, though outnumbered, fought back fiercely, using their makeshift weapons to defend their homes. The air was filled with the clash of steel and the shouts of battle, the once-quiet village now a battlefield.
Lin Yu fought with everything he had, his sword a blur as he parried strike after strike. The cultists were relentless, their attacks precise and coordinated. He could see the fanatical gleam in their eyes, the blind devotion that fueled their strength.
And with every swing of his sword, the whispers grew louder.
**Let me help you,** Xiangliu's voice coiled around his thoughts, its tone smooth and persuasive. **You're struggling, Lin Yu. You can't win this fight without me. Let me show you what true power feels like.**
Lin Yu gritted his teeth, blocking a heavy strike from one of the cultists. He could feel his strength waning, his movements slowing as exhaustion began to take its toll. The serpent's power thrummed beneath his skin, tempting him, promising him the strength he needed to end the battle.
**Just a little,** Xiangliu whispered. **Just enough to turn the tide.**
A cultist lunged at him, his blade aiming for Lin Yu's throat. Lin Yu blocked it at the last moment, his sword slipping in the rain. The force of the blow sent him stumbling back, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
He could feel it now—the pull of the serpent's power, the surge of energy just waiting to be unleashed. All he had to do was let go.
But as the cultist closed in for the kill, Lin Yu saw something in the distance—a flash of light, followed by a powerful explosion.
Zhao Feng had arrived with reinforcements.
Lin Yu's heart leapt as he saw the villagers, led by Zhao Feng, charging into the battle with renewed determination. The cultists, caught off guard by the sudden attack, began to falter. The line had held.
But the battle was far from over.
Lin Yu raised his sword, the rain pouring down around him as he prepared for the next wave. The whispers were still there, lingering in the back of his mind.
But for now, he would fight without them.