Tian Hao, still on the ground, let out a breathless laugh, his lungs burning from the effort of dodging. The cold, uneven cobblestones dug into his back as he twisted sharply to avoid another blow, the dull ache of bruises radiating through his ribs. Grit clung to his palms as he pushed against the ground, his movements erratic but deliberate, each roll just barely keeping him out of harm's way.

  "It's called the 'Drunken Fool's Dance'!" he yelled, his voice a mix of defiance and self-mockery. "Care to join in?"

  The disciple, his frustration growing, pressed his attack, his strikes becoming wilder, less precise.

  During one of his erratic rolls, Tian Hao’s hand brushed against a loose cobblestone. An idea sparked in his mind—desperate, perhaps, but it was all he had. He gripped the stone, his fingers wrapping around its rough surface.

  As the disciple lunged again, Tian Hao, with a sudden burst of strength, sat up and hurled the stone. It flew through the air, a crude projectile aimed at the disciple’s head.

  The disciple, caught off guard, barely managed to duck, but the stone grazed his temple, drawing a trickle of blood. He stumbled backward, his eyes wide, his hand flying to the wound.

  Tian Hao, seizing the opportunity, scrambled to his feet, his body screaming in protest. He was dizzy, disoriented, the effects of the wine and the beating making his head spin. But he was standing.

  Lin Mei, her glaive a blur of silver, swung with precision, the blade slicing through the air in a deadly arc. The Iron Talon disciple met her strike with a sharp parry, his sword vibrating with the force of the impact. Sparks flew where their weapons clashed, the sound ringing loudly in the narrow alley.

  She stepped forward, her glaive spinning in a sweeping strike aimed at his legs. He leapt back, barely avoiding the blade, and retaliated with a quick thrust toward her midsection. Lin Mei twisted to the side, her movements fluid, and redirected the attack with the shaft of her weapon. The effort sent a jolt up her arms, the sting of impact biting into her muscles.

  Their weapons clashed again, the disciple pressing forward with a flurry of strikes. His blade darted like a viper, each thrust precise and calculated. Lin Mei parried, deflecting each attack, but not without effort. A misstep allowed the edge of his blade to graze her upper arm, a shallow cut blooming red against her sleeve. She hissed in pain but held her ground, her grip tightening on the glaive.

  With a sharp cry, Lin Mei retaliated, spinning her glaive in a tight arc aimed at his shoulder. The disciple raised his sword to block, but the sheer force of the strike sent him stumbling to the side. Seizing the moment, she pressed her advantage, driving him further back with a relentless series of strikes.

  He recovered quickly, countering with a low slash aimed at her legs. Lin Mei jumped, the blade whistling just beneath her feet, and brought her glaive down in a diagonal slash. The disciple twisted away, the blade slicing across his side—a shallow but painful cut that drew a grunt of pain.

  They circled each other, their breaths heavy, their gazes locked in a tense stalemate. Sweat dripped from Lin Mei’s brow, the ache in her arms a constant reminder of the battle’s toll. The disciple’s movements slowed slightly, his earlier precision giving way to more deliberate strikes, each one testing her defense.

  The scent of blood hung thick in the air, mingling with the dust kicked up by their movements. Lin Mei adjusted her grip on the glaive, her knuckles white, her focus razor-sharp. She knew this fight couldn’t last much longer. She needed to end it—soon.

  Suddenly, Qian Zhi’s voice cut through the din of battle, his tone sharp and commanding. “Enough! This has gone on long enough.” He stepped forward, his presence radiating a power that made the other disciples freeze.

  He surveyed the scene—Tian Hao, bruised and battered, leaning heavily against a wall; Lin Mei, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her bloodied glaive still raised in defense; his own disciples, Their heads hung low, sweat dripping down their temples, as their eyes darted nervously between Qian Zhi and their battered opponents.

  Qian Zhi stepped forward, his gaze fixed on Tian Hao. The air around him seemed to hum, a faint vibration that set teeth on edge. His jaw tightened, and his narrowed eyes gleamed with a sharp focus. Each step forward was measured, his movements exuding a predator’s precision, as though he was already dissecting his next move. He raised a hand, his fingers curling into a claw-like gesture.

  "Enough of this farce," he snarled, his voice low and menacing. "You’ve tested my patience long enough, whelp. Now, you face the consequences."

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Dark energy, visible even in the dim light, began creep along his skin, overlaying his hand with a shadowy claw that pulsed with a malevolent power. The air grew heavy, the scent of ozone sharp and acrid, as Qian Zhi channeled his Qi, his cultivation as a mid-stage Qi Gathering cultivator on full display.

  Tian Hao, still bruised and battered from the fight, felt a chill run down his spine. He knew that this was no mere threat. This was an attack meant to cripple, to maim, perhaps even to kill. He braced himself, his body trembling with fear and exhaustion, knowing he was no match for the power Qian Zhi was displaying.

  "This is it," he thought, his mind racing. "This is how it ends."

  Qian Zhi moved with a speed that belied his earlier arrogance, his form blurring as he lunged towards Tian Hao, the shadowy claw reaching out like a specter of death.

  Jiuwei, who had been perched on a nearby crate suddenly moved. She leapt from the crate, her tiny form a blur of silver, and interposed herself between Tian Hao and Qian Zhi’s attack.

  As she moved, a soft, golden glow enveloped her, growing brighter with each passing moment. The light pulsed with a gentle warmth, a stark contrast to the dark energy swirling around Qian Zhi’s hand.

  Qian Zhi’s shadowy claw, fueled by his potent cultivation, collided with the golden light surrounding Jiuwei.

  The impact was...anticlimactic.

  The dark claw energy of Qian Zhi plunged into the golden radiance, twisting and writhing as if resisting its inevitable end. The shadowy tendrils splintered, fragments breaking apart into shards of smoldering darkness. Each piece dissolved into brilliant sparks of silver, cascading like starlight before vanishing into the air. The golden light surged forward, consuming the remnants, leaving behind only the faint hum of energy that lingered in the air.

  Tian Hao watched in stunned disbelief as Jiuwei, now surrounded by a blinding golden aura, faced Qian Zhi, her tiny form radiating a power that seemed to fill the entire alley.

  Qian Zhi staggered backward, his eyes wide with shock and pain, his hand, still crackling with dark energy, now mangled. He let out a strangled cry, his voice a mix of agony and disbelief as he clutched his injured hand, blood now dripping from his fingertips, staining the cobblestones a dark, ominous crimson. He spat out a mouthful of blood, his face contorted in pain, his earlier arrogance replaced by a dawning horror.

  Jiuwei stood her ground, her small form radiating an intense golden light. Her earlier playful arrogance had vanished, replaced by a calm and commanding presence. The power rolling off her was almost overwhelming, a force that seemed to defy the very fabric of reality.

  “Foolish mortal,” she said, her voice resonating with power. “You dare raise your hand against one under my protection? You know nothing of true power.” She paused, her gaze sweeping over the stunned disciples, her voice sharp and clear. “This is your only warning. Leave now, and never cross our path again, or face a wrath that will make the heavens themselves tremble.”

  Qian Zhi, his face pale with pain and fear, could only stare at the small fox, his mind struggling to comprehend the power emanating from her. The air crackled around her, the energy she radiated pressing down on him like a physical weight. He clutched his injured hand, his eyes wide with a dawning realization of just how much he had underestimated his opponents.

  “This… this isn’t over,” he stammered, his voice trembling. He glared at Tian Hao, his eyes filled with a burning hatred. “You and your sect will pay for this. The Iron Talon Sect does not forget. We do not forgive.” He spat on the ground, a mix of blood and venom, before turning to his fellow disciples. “Retreat!” he commanded, his voice hoarse. “We will deal with this… later.”

  The Iron Talon disciples scrambled to obey, their earlier bloodlust replaced by a desperate need to escape. They quickly retreated, disappearing into the labyrinthine alleys, their footsteps echoing in the sudden silence.

  As the last of the Iron Talon disciples vanished from sight, the golden aura surrounding Jiuwei began to fade. She swayed slightly, her tiny form trembling with exhaustion, before settling back into a sit, her earlier regal posture giving way to weariness.

  Tian Hao, still reeling from the shock of the encounter, rushed to her side. “Jiuwei! Are you alright?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

  Jiuwei, her energy clearly depleted, let out a small, weary sigh. She looked up at Tian Hao, her golden eyes now filled with a gentle light.

  “Just… a little tired, young one. Protecting mortals is… surprisingly draining.” She paused, a hint of her usual arrogance returning. “But do not worry, your guardian is not so easily defeated. Now,” she added, her voice barely above a whisper, “a nap. And perhaps some of that… Celestial Honey. A being of my stature requires sustenance.”

  Tian Hao’s breath hitched as he crouched beside her, his eyes scanning her trembling frame. Her golden glow had dimmed, her breaths shallow but steady. His fingers hovered over her fur, hesitant, before gently scooping her into his arms. Each movement felt deliberate, as though the weight of her exhaustion was his to bear. The tension in his chest eased only slightly as her small form settled against him, her warmth a quiet reassurance that she was still there.

  Lin Mei approached slowly, her steps faltering as though each one weighed heavily on her weary legs. The blood from a shallow cut on her arm trickled down, unnoticed, staining her sleeve a deeper red. Her gaze fixed on Jiuwei, the flickers of golden light reflecting in her wide eyes. She inhaled deeply, as if the act of breathing could calm the whirlwind of thoughts in her mind, before taking another measured step forward.

  Her gaze lingered on the fox's small, trembling form, the glow that had moments ago filled the alley now reduced to faint flickers that danced across her fur. Her lips parted slightly as though she wanted to speak but couldn't find the words. She reached out, her unbloodied fingers brushing against Jiuwei’s fur, a silent acknowledgment of the power the little fox had unleashed.

  “What… what was that?” she whispered, her gaze fixed on Jiuwei.

  “I… I don’t know,” Tian Hao replied, shaking his head. “But it saved us. Saved me.” He looked down at Jiuwei.

  “She’s… more than she seems, Mei Mei. Much more.”