The Ash Hollows trembled as Zhou Ren's laugh echoed across the blackened ground.
"Lin Xuan! Let's see your cripple's talent now!"
From the fissures of the charred earth, beasts poured forth—ash-boars with tusks glowing like molten iron, wolves the size of horses with embers for eyes, carrion birds with wings of smoldering fire. The air grew so hot the surviving disciples gagged, sweat streaking their soot-caked faces.
Lin Xuan's circle closed ranks at his back. Chen Yu's sword hummed faintly with qi. Li Mei's gaze was sharp, calm, her hands steady on her blade. Wu Ming shook but held his staff forward like a spear.
Dozens of disciples stared, caught between beasts and Zhou Ren's faction, and the elders' pavilion far above weighed down every breath like a mountain.
Lin Xuan lowered his spear. "Breathe."
The ash-wolves struck first, bounding forward in snarling packs. Zhou Ren's disciples scattered back, smirking, leaving Lin Xuan's group to take the brunt.
"Forward," Lin Xuan said.
His spear moved in arcs like rivers around rocks. One thrust cracked an ash-wolf's burning eye. One sweep redirected a lunging boar into another, tusks tearing its ally's flank. He moved with frightening efficiency—small movements that carved survival from chaos.
Chen Yu's sword found gaps in scales. Li Mei danced between lunges, her blade a flash of water against fire. Wu Ming shrieked and swung wildly, accidentally knocking two wolves off their feet.
"Senior Brother, I'm officially renaming this technique the Staff of Absolute Panic!" he yelled, then screamed again as another beast lunged at him.
Lin Xuan's spearhead intercepted, piercing the beast's throat.
"Hold," Lin Xuan said.
And somehow, they did.
From behind the beast tide, Zhou Ren sneered. "Look how they cling to their cripple. Pathetic."
He flicked a talisman. Flames erupted at Lin Xuan's flanks, herding more beasts toward him. His faction laughed, jeering.
But some disciples glanced uneasily toward Lin Xuan's group. They had seen too much already. They whispered:
"He holds the line…""They're alive because of him…""Why are we helping Zhou Ren when he hides behind us?"
Zhou Ren saw the hesitation and snarled. "Cowards! He is no savior—he steals your glory!"
But their doubt had already taken root.
The Omni-Talent System pulsed in Lin Xuan's mind, threads of light converging.
[System Notice: Threat overload.Detected synergy: Breath-Shearing Spear + Flowing Wind Cut + Fire Qi environment.Fusion Potential: 39%.Warning: Body load critical if technique forced.Optional Path: Creation Threshold.]
Lin Xuan's grip tightened on his spear.
Another step. Not yet perfect. But enough to survive.
The ground split. From the fissure crawled a greater beast—a hulking ash-beast shaped like a lion, mane of fire, claws raking sparks from stone. Its roar shook the Hollows, knocking disciples sprawling.
"An Ashflame Lion!" someone screamed. "That's—Foundation-level—!"
Panic spread. Some disciples dropped their weapons and fled toward the elders' pavilion, begging for mercy.
The hawk-eyed elder's lips curled. "Pathetic."
Elder Ji's face did not move. The silver-haired elder's eyes, however, glinted faintly as they lingered on Lin Xuan.
The lion roared and charged. Zhou Ren's men dove aside, shoving weaker disciples forward like bait.
Lin Xuan stepped. His spear wrote arcs of breath in the air, redirecting claws, turning roars aside. His circle flanked, their blades scoring shallow wounds.
But the beast was too strong. Its mane scorched the air, flames licking their skin. Chen Yu staggered back, his sword nearly melted from the heat. Li Mei's sleeve caught fire; she tore it free, face pale.
Wu Ming swung, staff cracking against its jaw. "Senior Brother, this is definitely not normal trial material!"
"Work," Lin Xuan said simply, spear darting forward to pierce the lion's nostril, driving it back a pace.
"Now," Zhou Ren hissed.
While Lin Xuan's spear was locked with the lion, Zhou Ren lunged, blade gleaming with killing intent. His strike aimed not for beasts, but Lin Xuan's spine.
Gasps echoed from disciples watching.
Li Mei screamed. Chen Yu turned, too far. Wu Ming stumbled.
Lin Xuan did not move.
At the last instant, his spear twisted, releasing the lion's head. His body bent like a reed, Zhou Ren's blade whistling past his shoulder.
The spear butt cracked into Zhou Ren's ribs with a sound like breaking pottery.
Zhou Ren screamed, staggering back, blood spraying. His face twisted with hate.
"You—will—die!"
The lion roared again, flames surging. Lin Xuan's circle faltered, ash and heat overwhelming.
The System's voice surged in his mind.
[Creation Threshold reached.Unique Hybrid Technique available.Merge: Breath-Shearing Spear + Flowing Wind Cut + Fire Qi affinity.Name: Firestorm Spear.Warning: Critical meridian strain expected.]
Lin Xuan exhaled once. Then stepped.
His spear swept in a great arc, not against flesh, but against air and flame itself. The world bent around the strike. Fire, ash, and wind collapsed into a spiraling storm centered on the spearhead.
The Firestorm Spear roared.
Flames tore from the lion's mane, dragged into the spiral. Ash-wolves howled as their bodies combusted. Zhou Ren's disciples screamed, their robes catching fire as the storm expanded.
The lion staggered, its mane ripped from its body, its flesh torn by wind and flame. Lin Xuan thrust. The Firestorm Spear punched through its throat, ash and fire exploding outward.
Silence followed. Then the lion collapsed with a crash that shook the Hollow.
From above, the pavilion watched.
The hawk-eyed elder's face twisted in fury. "That—technique—he—he dares—!"
Elder Ji's gaze did not move. But the faintest flicker crossed his eyes.
The silver-haired elder's lips curved, soft as frost. "He made a storm out of breath. And out of fire. Perhaps the sect has not seen such a thing in… a very long time."
Zhou Ren staggered to his knees, face pale, hair scorched. His disciples scattered, terror plain in their eyes.
Lin Xuan lowered his spear. He did not speak. His chest heaved once, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. His meridians screamed, pain burning his arms, but his eyes stayed calm.
"Breathe," he whispered.
His circle gathered—Li Mei, sword bloodied; Chen Yu, pale but standing; Wu Ming, grinning through tears.
"We… lived," Wu Ming gasped. "Again!"
The surviving disciples stared, pale and silent. Then whispers rippled.
"He killed an Ashflame Lion…""With a single technique…""He… created that. In battle.""Is he—still Outer Sect?"
The whispers grew louder, echoing through the Hollows, up to the pavilion, beyond.
Lin Xuan said nothing. He simply planted his spear in the ash, breathing steady.
The elders' judgment loomed. The disciples' awe burned. Zhou Ren's hate festered. Meng Zhao's fury coiled in shadows. Yue Shuang's quiet interest deepened, her eyes lingering on the boy who forged storms in silence.
Arc 3 closed not with Lin Xuan's death, as so many had schemed, but with his rise into legend.
But legends in the sect were knives—sharpened for cutting down those who dared to hold them.