The stars hung cold and sharp in the sky when Rerum's voice slithered into Fangtian's mind.
"You thirst for power," the ancient voice murmured, "but you crawl when you should already soar. What you lack… is speed. The art of closing distance before a heartbeat dares to rise."
Fangtian stood alone in the misty training grounds, the practice blade sheathed at his side. He said nothing, only waited. Rerum's lessons never came freely.
"Observe."
A shadow flickered before Fangtian's eyes—no, through them—faster than thought. In a breath, it danced across the courtyard and returned.
"Shadow Step," Rerum intoned. "A technique older than kings. Each step, lighter than the whisper of death."
"Then teach me," Fangtian said, his voice sharper than the blade at his hip.
Rerum's laugh was low, rumbling from the earth itself. "Very well, my little conqueror."
Thus began the night's brutal tutelage. Fangtian moved until his legs trembled, until the world blurred, until silence answered his every step.
Morning's gold crept over the horizon when a summons arrived from the City Lord himself.
In the grand hall of Greenwind's manor, Yue Zhonghai sat upon his jade seat, draped in ceremonial armor. His eyes, hard as tempered iron, regarded Fangtian with grave respect.
"You saved my daughter," he said, voice carrying over assembled courtiers. "Greenwind City repays its debts."
Servants approached, bearing a lacquered chest. They opened it—and light spilled forth. A thousand spirit stones, each glowing with a soft, potent pulse.
The gathered councilors gasped.
Even Fangtian's cold heart stirred faintly.
"I offer you this," Zhonghai said, "and a place in my house, should you wish it."
Fangtian bowed, measured and smooth. "Your generosity humbles me, my lord."
Yet inside, his mind sharpened. With these stones, I ascend.
That night, beneath the open sky, Fangtian sat cross-legged within the manor gardens. The spirit stones arrayed before him pulsed with living energy.
He closed his eyes.
The power flowed into him like wildfire.
Pain tore through his veins. His bones ached. His skin burned.
He endured.
Because I must.
Moments stretched into hours. Stars wheeled overhead.
And then—
Boom!
The ground around him trembled slightly. A ripple of force unfurled from Fangtian's body.
Eyes snapping open, he exhaled, the air shimmering with latent force.
Initial Peak — Rank 1.
He smiled faintly.
It begins.
The next day, chaos erupted.
Messengers rode hard into the city, faces stricken.
"Beasts!" they cried. "Thousands! Attacking the villages!"
Within the City Lord's war chamber, maps were unrolled and battle lines drawn.
"We march at once," Zhonghai declared, slamming a gauntleted fist onto the table.
The city's elite forces assembled. Armor clattered, banners snapped in the rising wind.
Fangtian approached, clad in simple black, his aura cold and cutting.
"I will come," he said.
Councilor Lin sneered. "Another swordless wanderer thinking himself a hero?"
But Zhonghai raised a hand. "He comes."
Fangtian said nothing. Lin's words were gnats to him.
Beside the columns of soldiers, Yue Lian stood, dressed in light armor, her face set in defiance.
"Father, I must come!" she insisted. "I will fight too!"
Zhonghai's face hardened. "No. Your cultivation is sealed. You are vulnerable."
Yue Lian's eyes glistened with frustrated pride. She opened her mouth to argue—but a hand rested lightly on her shoulder.
Fangtian.
He leaned close, his voice a caress of silk.
"Princess," Fangtian whispered, "not yet. The battlefield is no place for chains."
Her breath caught.
"I'll find the key to shatter your shackles, Yue Lian. Trust me."
Her eyes widened, emotions warring inside her.
He stepped back with a gentle smile, one he had practiced countless times—but behind it, cold calculation gleamed.
She will trust me. She must.
Yue Lian nodded, swallowing her protests, watching him with something dangerously close to hope.
Fangtian turned away, his smile fading to a cruel curve.
Trust... is the easiest chain to forge.
The army rode out.
In two hours, they arrived.
The village lay in ruin. Smoke curled into the sky. Beasts — a writhing, howling mass — swarmed the fields.
Boars the size of wagons. Dire wolves with eyes like coals. Feathered lizards hissing from rooftops.
Nearly a thousand.
Zhonghai's sword flashed.
"Form ranks! Archers! Ready!"
The army roared into action.
And Fangtian—he became the wind, a silent blade flashing death between heartbeats.
With Shadow Step, he weaved through the battlefield, a ghost among men and monsters.
Steel sang. Blood sprayed. Screams tore the air.
Fangtian struck beasts down like grass beneath a scythe.
One slash—an iron-boar collapsed, tusks shattering.
Another step—a dire wolf gurgled, throat opened wide.
Councilor Lin, atop his horse, gaped openly.
Zhonghai's eyes narrowed. "This boy…"
Ten minutes.
That was all it took.
A thousand beasts lay broken beneath the banners of Greenwind City.
Soldiers cheered raggedly, collapsing into the bloodied earth.
The village was saved.
That night, fires crackled. Beast meat roasted over open flames. Laughter—shaky and disbelieving—rose into the star-drenched heavens.
Fangtian sat apart, silent. Watching. Waiting.
When the camp slept, Fangtian rose.
He moved with a predator's grace into the wilds, where the scent of blood hung heavy and the ground was torn by battle.
Through tangled woods and whispering grass, he hunted.
The fruit... must be near.
Deeper he went, until he found it:
A cavern. The mouth gaped like a wound in the earth.
From within, a faint pulsing glow beckoned.
He entered.
The walls dripped with moisture. Strange roots writhed across the floor.
And there—on a stone pedestal—grew a single fruit.
"It was unworldly — as if night itself had bled into a single trembling heartbeat of fire."
The Silent Flame Fruit.
Fangtian stepped forward—and the ground rumbled.
From the shadows emerged the guardian.
It was a beast of nightmare: a serpent crowned with bone horns, its body coiled like endless rivers of scaled muscle. Fangs longer than daggers. Eyes cold and knowing.
The guardian spoke—not with voice, but thought.
"Leave now, mortal. What blooms here will be your grave."
Fangtian smiled thinly.
"If asking could win thrones, there would be no kings."
The guardian hissed, coiling to strike.
Fangtian moved first.
Shadow Step carried him forward, blade flashing.
The serpent's tail lashed, faster than thought—but Fangtian twisted aside, slashing along its flank.
The beast roared, shaking the cavern.
"You are but a child! Begone!"
Fangtian laughed—low, cold, merciless.
"I am no one's child."
The battle raged.
Fangtian danced along stone and shadow, blade a blur of silver death.
Blood—black and smoking—splattered the cavern walls.
The serpent struck, jaws wide enough to crush him whole.
At the last instant, Fangtian stepped sideways—one step, two—and drove his blade deep into the beast's eye.
The guardian screamed.
It thrashed—and collapsed.
Panting, bloodied, Fangtian stood victorious.
He approached the Silent Flame Fruit, plucking it gently from its perch.
It thrummed against his palm, alive with ancient power.
Fangtian held it high, the glow painting his face in bloodred light.
He smiled—and this time, there was no cruelty.
Only triumph.
"Soon, Yue Lian," he whispered, "you will see. The world you dream of... will belong to me."
And with the fruit in hand, Gu Yue Fangtian vanished into the night.