NOVEL WEB Chapter 272: Restricted Area
Author's Note: Do Not Unlock Yet. Chapter Is Still Under Construction.
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The cloaked man spat. "Tell your people our forces come—two days at most. We'll tear you down."
He spun, and the surrounding lights flashed.
In his palm, a swirling blade of condensed qi formed which he swung out in the next instant.
The young cultivators screamed and fled for cover while those closest, got sent flying with cuts appearing all over their bodies.
One young cultivator stood still and raised his blade, unwilling to let this unknown man keep wreaking havoc.
"Oh? A bold one..." The cloaked scout suddenly charged forward with the tip of his blade qi sweeping across the ground and forming a long trail of cracks.
Before the young cultivator could raise his weapon, the cloaked scout's qi blade was already three inches away from his neck.
There was no doubt that this youngster would be decapitated once the blade kisses his skin.
At this moment, a palm suddenly appeared out of nowhere and grabbed the qi blade before it could go any further.
"Uh?" Before the cloaked scout could understand what was going on, the palm clenched tightly around the qi blade causing it to crack and then explode into millions of pieces that slowly drifted away like air particles.
Victor dusted his palm and then turned around to the youngster.
"Are you okay?"
The youngster nodded in relief and fear while Victor gave him the signal to move away.
Victor turned to stare at the scout who was about to say something but his words died in his throat when Victor emitted his Nascent Soul aura.
The wind died... Flames faltered... as the rogue scout froze.
His eyes widened behind the sway of his dark hair.
"I thought Lingyun had no Nascent Soul Realm protectors left," the scout's voice cracked as he whispered.
Victor's steps were silent as rippling qi moved around him. Then, in a single motion, he drew his blade. Dark lightning danced along its length, the sword a whip-crack of shadow and lightning. He stepped forward, lance-like.
The rogue raised his palm, summoning his most powerful Foundation Establishment technique—an earth-shattering quake that would have felled plumed cavalry—but Victor only shook his head. He lifted his sword, carving a half-moon slash. Darkness met force: the quake shattered against the sword's perfect arc, splintering into harmless dust.
Blink.
The scout's eyes rolled up. He crumpled.
Victor caught him mid-fall, arms firm, and set him on his feet. The man slumped against the fountain. Blood trickled from his temple.
Victor's voice was calm but heavy. "Tell me where your camp lies."
The scout, fear blazing in his eyes, nodded. "Beyond the eastern ridge—Ironwood Clearing. Two days' march. They'll be waiting."
Victor drew back, stepping away. "Then we march at dawn. For now, you stay." He laid a firm hand on the man's shoulder. "Call your masters. Let them know we're coming."
The scout whimpered, cradling his arm. Victor closed his eyes, letting his aura recede, leaving only footsteps on broken stone.
Below, the town guard rallied. Archers took positions. Lights flickered in the houses as residents peered out, hope blooming in their eyes now that their protector had returned
Victor descended the ramparts, cloak swirling, and rejoined Bai Xue at the willow trees. She saw the scout at his feet and stiffened.
He nodded once. "He'll guide us."
She looked at him, breathless. "You… will lead the strike?"
Victor's silver hair caught the torchlight. "At dawn. We'll catch them off guard." He glanced toward the eastern sky, where faint stars yielded to the coming light. "Lingyun Town will not die."
And as the first hint of daybreak tinged the horizon, both of them knew this was only the beginning of a battle that would decide the fate of the town—and of everyone they loved.
---ss
A pale dawn mist curled around the gnarled trunks of the Ironwood Clearing, staining the air silver and green. Victor paused at the edge of the camp—once an abandoned logging outpost, now the fortress of the Ironhand Marauders. Their ragged banners, black iron fists clawing against crimson fields, snapped in the breeze. Beyond the makeshift palisade, lantern-glow flickered atop watchtowers carved from living oaks. Victor inhaled steady, the mist tasting of wet moss and steel. Around him, two dozen Bai Family guards and young cultivators crouched in formation, grips tight on spears and halberds.
"Names?" he called softly.
"Lieutenant Maro and the Ashen Hawks, at your command," replied Lieutenant Shen, his voice low.
"Good," Victor said, voice carrying like a blade's whisper. "We strike at first light. Our scouts tell me their vice-camps lie in the north and south quadrants. Marsh traps, tripwires, smoke pots—they've prepared for an attack. But they won't be ready for us." He paused, looking each face in turn. "Stay close, follow my mark, and do not let them scatter."
Bai Xue hovered to his side, cloak billowing. "Be careful," she whispered. "They have four Nascent Soul vice-leaders before even reaching their main lord."
Victor nodded. "Which makes this our opportunity: we eliminate their leadership swiftly. Once the vice-leaders fall, their foot soldiers will fracture."
Behind them, the camp stirred to life. Drums rolled in deep rumble—an unspoken signal—and squad leaders moved among the assembled troops to steel nerves. Victor flexed his fingers, summoning wind around his palms. A flicker of electric qi tensed on his blade's edge, a dark promise in the hush.
At his nod, the Bai cultivators surged forward, ghostly shapes in mist. Victor led them through the broken palisade—wood splintering beneath his boots—and into the labyrinth of crude timber huts and stacked crates.
The first sentries were fast asleep, heavy barrels of stale reed wine at their feet. Shen's Ashen Hawks slew them silently, blades nicking throats before moonlight turned crimson. Beyond, three rugged scouts—Foundation Establishment, at least—rushed alarms only to find spear points in their chests.
Victor swept through the camp like a silent gale. Gale Strike unfurled beneath his boots, propelling him in a blur from one hut to the next. He vaulted over gunmetal barrels and landed atop an enemy officer's shoulders, slicing through armor with Shadow Crescent Strike. The sound of metal parting was a command to chaos, and the Ironhand Marauders reeled.
But the unexpected happened: from behind a collapsed supply tent, half a dozen Marauder elites—Foundation Establishment Crow Knights—rushed the Bai line and scattered them. Young cultivators, no match for seasoned rogues, found themselves trampled or spun off into walls. Shen's Hawks bellowed calls for aid as the Crow Knights wove cruel blades through ribs and shoulders.
Victor skidded to a halt, heart thundering. He reached down and touched the flat of his sword, drawing qi lightning along its length. "Dragon's Roar Flame!" he roared, inhaling fiery qi through his fingertips. A torrent of molten flame leapt from his blade, sweeping two Knights off their feet and igniting the tent's thatch in a roar of heat. The sudden conflagration banished the Crow Knights back in a tide of smoke and horror, giving the Bai forces room to breathe.
As the fire crackled, Victor pivoted. "Form ranks!" he called, the words slicing through panic. The Bai guards rallied, shields locking, spears bristling like thorned barricades. Behind them, the Ashen Hawks surged, blades reconvened.
From a timber watchtower, a figure dropped gracefully—a vice-leader named Carin, cloaked in black, arcane runes glowing faintly on his arms. He landed with a silent thud and raised a gauntleted fist. "So much… smoke," he taunted, voice eerily calm. "Let me clear the air."
He pressed his palm to the earth. The ground trembled; dust swirled. Three Bai cultivators lost their footing. Victor wheeled, meeting Carin's narrowed eyes.
"Vice-Leader Carin," Victor greeted, tone amused under the thunder of battle. "Thank you for joining us."
Carin's lips curled. "I thought we might grow bored without a guest of honor."
He released the earthquake, hurling cracked stone shards at the Bai line. Shen's men scattered, shields rising, but the stones battered wood and bone alike.
Victor sprang forward, heart a hammer. He activated Void Severing Thread, weaving a hair-thin filament of void qi through the air. The stone shards shattered against nothingness, littering the dust in harmless ruins. With a leap, Victor closed the gap and swung a Shadow Crescent Strike that carved a slash of darkness across Carin's chest.
The vice-leader stumbled, but not out of breath. He raised his other hand.
On either side of Carin, three more vice-leaders emerged. Vice-Leader Melan, cloaked in shimmering water-blue robes; Vice-Leader Vargos, ivory mask glittering with ice-blue qi; and Vice-Leader Pheon, whose flames danced in his fists. Each Nascent Soul Realm cultivator, each a harbinger of doom.
Victor took a breath of smoky air and met their cold gazes. "I heard you planned to seize Lingyun," he said, voice ringing. "So I decided to come to you first."
They answered with snarls. Melan struck ice-cold water arcs, splintering the earth. Vargos summoned Frost Bloom Seal, unleashing razor blossoms of frost that snapped over Victor's sword arm. Pheon roared Inferno Surge, a flame storm that flicked like scorpions' stings. Carin gathered mud into a new quake.
Victor danced between them, phantom limbs blurred by Phantom Mirage Step, each dodge precise. He parried Vargos's frost with a Dragon's Roar Flame slash, vaporizing ice into steam. He weaved between Melan's water whips, severing them with Void Severing Thread. When Carin lunged with a Cradle of Earth, Victor countered with Gale Strike, sliding under his guard and planting a flaming punch in Pheon's abdomen.
The four staggered back—surprised by the ferocity of his onslaught. Victor stood in the center of the ring, cloak flaring, silhouette burning with qi. "Your camp is already lost," he murmured, voice low. "Tell me where the Marauder Lords are, or I'll tear this place down one vice-leader at a time."
Melan hissed, eyes wild. "You cannot—"
Victor's aura surged. He lifted both palms. Echo Veil Sense rippled outward, seeking their hidden reserves. All pretenses vanished. "You're outmatched." He drew on his final reserve, the bloodline's domain power blooming beneath his feet: Void Domain of Ruin. Space within fifteen paces stuttered like broken glass. The four shook, caught in the terror of imposed reality. Victor closed in, each step fracturing the air.
One more Shadow Crescent Strike, and Carin's mask shattered. A second blow cleaved Melan's water blades to mist. A third savage arc felled Vargos. Pheon's flame sputtered out, scorched by the shockwave of Victor's domain.
They collapsed, ragged and broken, on the blood-soaked ground. Ashen Hawks fanned out, binding the vice-leaders with iron chains.
Victor sheathed his blade, cloak drifting like a shadow. He stooped to lift Carin by the collar. The vice-leader's face was pale beneath mud and sweat. "I guess we'll start with your group," Victor said quietly. "You will take us to your hideout—and the Marauder Lords who sent you."
Carin's eyes flickered with defeat. "The Ironhand Lords... north on the Broken Spine Trail. Three days' march." He coughed. "That's where they hide their warbands."
Victor nodded. "Then we march at dawn. And this time, we finish it."
He glanced across the battered clearing to see Bai Xue's pale face framed by torchlight. Around them, the Ashen Hawks and Bai guards gathered the fallen Marauders, weapons abandoned, the wind already carrying word to the camp.
Victor turned back to the four vice-leaders. "Inform them: Lingyun Town is not ripe, and it never will be."
He strode from the clearing, shoulders set, each footstep echoing a promise. The night was far from over—but the first stone had been cast.
And the storm he had summoned would crash upon the Ironhand Marauders before they knew what struck them.
---sss
The four Vice Leaders of the Ironhand Marauders rose from the smoky haze of the shattered clearing, each aura crackling in malignant harmony. Melan's water whips lashed at the broken timbers, twisting them into ice-glazed scythes; Vargos's Frost Bloom Palm bloomed in frosted petals of qi that splintered stone; Pheon's Inferno Surge roared like a volcano's heart, lighting scorched embers in every breath; and Carin's Earth Quake stomped hollows into the shaken earth beneath Victor's feet.
Victor stood at the center of the ruined camp, sword in hand, cloak whipping around him as the four vice-leaders advanced in coordinated rhythm—a deadly quartet whose combined force threatened to crush any resistance. The sky above was choked with ash, the air thick with the stench of ozone and splintered wood.
"Together," Melan hissed, water circling her knuckles like a serpent's coil.
Vargos nodded, petals of frost shimmering on his palms. Pheon's grin was a slash of flame. Carin's eyes flickered with earth's fury.
Victor inhaled, qi humming. He activated Wind Barrier, a swirling cocoon of vortex air that snapped aside Melan's first water lash. The frozen scythe shattered against the barrier, spray of ice drenching the scorched ground.
He burst forward, boots barely touching earth. Beneath his palm, the rune of the Frost Bloom Palm ignited. As Vargos lunged with a frosted fist, Victor caught the attack at the wrist—wood and ice crackled and silver petals of qi flowered across Vargos's arm. The effect was immediate: the circulation of Vargos's qi stuttered, slowed. Frost crept along his veins, turning pulses sluggish. Vargos staggered back, breath trembling as Victor pivoted.
"Cold… too cold," Vargos gasped, frost etching his brows.
Before Vargos could recover, Victor swept his sword in a half-moon arc and leapt away with Phantom Mirage Step, vanishing into a shadowed blur.
He reappeared behind Pheon, who was coiling a sphere of molten flame. Victor dropped lower, raising both palms for Skyfire Spiral—a corkscrew of blazing qi and wind. The torrent of spiraling flame caught Pheon mid-thrust, ripping through his flame sphere and blasting him through a collapsed hut. The guttural roar of the impact echoed across the clearing.
But the vice-leaders were far from beaten. Melan's water whips reformed in a flick of her wrist, coiling around Victor's ankles as he tried to dash toward Carin. He smashed a foot into Melan's knee, shattering the whip and sending shards of mana-laden water careening harmlessly into the sky. Yet another vice-leader, the earth-wielding Carin, her foot raised in a tremor of Earth Quake, caused the ground to surge beneath Victor's boots. Victor felled himself into a roll, the seismic surge rolling harmlessly overhead as he sprang upright.
Carin attacked, a hammer of gravel and soil, and Victor held his sword to intercept—steel sparking against iron-rich stone. He kicked off Carin's chest, exploiting the momentary opening, then dashed to the battered shields of the Bai guards, buying himself a split-second's cover.
All four vice-leaders struck again in perfect synchronicity: Pheon's flame spiral, Vargos's slow-motion frost petals, Melan's water fang barrage, Carin's tremoring earth spears. The clearing erupted into a chaos of elements—fire devouring wood, frost cracking stone, water scouring dust, earth upheaving shattered foundations.
Victor danced between the storms, Wind Barrier flaring whenever he needed cover, Phantom Mirage Step blurring his silhouette out of harm's way. But each dodge sapped his reserves; each counterstrike consumed precious qi. He felt the pounding of his heart, the slick of his sweat.