The night in the village was quiet, save for the occasional howl of wind passing through the trees. Lin Feng sat cross-legged in his hut, the Flame Lotus Sword laid out in front of him. Its once-faint glow now pulsed weakly, like a dying ember in the dark. Though he had cleaned and sharpened it, the sword had lost its brilliance since the battle with the Stormshadow Tiger.
Lin Feng's eyes were locked on the blade. His thoughts churned with frustration. He knew the sword was more than just an heirloom—it had a power he had yet to unlock. The ancestor's guidance hinted as much, but the mysteries surrounding it remained shrouded, leaving Lin Feng fumbling in the dark.
"Worthless," he muttered, clenching his fists. "I'm still so far behind."
The swordswoman's words lingered in his mind. The next challenge is coming. Prepare yourself. But how could he prepare for anything when the gap between him and the power he needed was so vast? He had tasted the despair of fighting a Nascent Soul Realm beast and knew he wouldn't survive another encounter without a miracle.
Just then, a strange sensation prickled the back of his neck—a shift in the air, subtle yet undeniable. Lin Feng's instincts, honed from years of surviving the wilds, screamed at him. He grabbed the Flame Lotus Sword and stepped outside.
The village was dark, shrouded in an unnatural stillness. Shadows seemed to lengthen unnaturally under the faint moonlight, and the wind carried an acrid, metallic tang. Lin Feng scanned the surroundings, his grip tightening on his sword. His senses told him he wasn't alone.
From the treeline, a figure emerged. Clad in a long black cloak that billowed like smoke, the stranger moved with an eerie grace. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but the aura radiating from him was unmistakable—powerful, oppressive, and cold. Lin Feng's heart sank as he realized he couldn't sense the limits of the man's cultivation.
"You've stirred the waters, boy," the stranger said, his voice low and rasping, like dry leaves crumbling underfoot. "You've caught the attention of those who should not be disturbed."
Lin Feng raised his sword, ignoring the tremor in his hands. "Who are you?"
The figure tilted his head, almost amused. "A messenger. Nothing more." He gestured toward Lin Feng with one skeletal hand, his fingers oddly elongated. "But messengers don't come empty-handed. Consider this your warning."
Before Lin Feng could react, the air around him grew heavy, suffocating. A wave of spiritual energy surged toward him, a crushing force that made the ground beneath his feet crack and splinter. Lin Feng gritted his teeth and channeled every ounce of energy he had into his sword. The Flame Lotus Sword responded weakly, its glow flickering like a candle in the wind.
The blast of energy slammed into him, sending him flying backward. He crashed through the wall of his hut, skidding across the dirt. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he struggled to his feet. His body screamed in protest, but he forced himself upright, his sword trembling in his hand.
The cloaked man appeared in front of him in an instant, as if teleporting. Lin Feng swung his sword out of instinct, but the man caught the blade between two fingers. His grip was ironclad, and Lin Feng could feel the Flame Lotus Sword groan under the pressure.
"You're weak," the stranger said, his tone mocking. "And yet, you carry something precious. A shame it's wasted on someone like you."
With a flick of his wrist, the man sent Lin Feng flying again. This time, the sword slipped from his grasp, landing a few feet away. Lin Feng coughed violently, his vision blurring. The man's words stung more than the physical pain.
"You think you can survive in this world with sheer willpower?" the man continued, stepping closer. "Your path ends here."
As the man raised his hand for the killing blow, a faint, almost imperceptible hum filled the air. The Flame Lotus Sword, lying in the dirt, began to glow. The light grew brighter and brighter, until it was blinding. The man hesitated, his hand stopping mid-swing.
"What is this?" he hissed, turning toward the sword.
Lin Feng, barely conscious, felt the warmth of the sword's energy seep into him. The glow enveloped him, and suddenly, the heaviness in the air lifted. His pain dulled, replaced by a surge of power—not overwhelming, but steady, like a lifeline pulling him from the depths.
The cloaked man snarled, stepping back. "The sword... it reacts to you? Impossible."
Lin Feng didn't understand what was happening, but he didn't question it. He grabbed the sword, and as his hand wrapped around the hilt, he felt a connection—a faint but undeniable link between him and the weapon. The glow intensified, and the oppressive aura of the cloaked man was forced back.
"Interesting," the man muttered, his tone less mocking and more intrigued. "Perhaps you're not as worthless as I thought. But this changes nothing."
With that, the man vanished into the shadows, leaving Lin Feng alone in the wreckage of his hut.