The airship's hold was a shadowed maze of crates, their splintered wood exuding pine and dust, mingling with the sharp tang of spiritual energy. A single lantern swayed above, its dim glow casting jagged shadows that twisted across the cargo, turning sacks into looming phantoms. My body throbbed from the duel with Huo, each muscle a knot of pain, the strain of Dance of Embers a lingering fire in my veins. Sitting cross-legged on the cold floor, my thin hanfu offered no warmth, I channeled Song of Pure Flame, grasping at the dwindling fire Qi. Each breath fogged, a fleeting warmth in the chilling hold, my heart heavy with the Phoenix Sect's betrayal, their hatred a weight that followed me across mountains.
A pulse of Qi sliced through the silence, sharp and predatory, like a blade grazing my senses. My fingers closed around a jade tablet from Cao Shen's spatial ring, its cool surface steadying my racing pulse, its runes faintly glowing with latent power. The stalker crept closer, his technique's energy a beacon, radiating malice that set my nerves ablaze. Did he think I was blind? His muffled footsteps echoed behind the crates, each one a taunt, his intent as clear as the killing aura he leaked. No ally—this was a hunter, and I was prey. My grip tightened, defiance surging, ready for the fight.
At the last second, I activated Dance of Embers, heat flooding my body, orange cracks glowing across my skin like molten veins. I ducked, the world slowing, the air humming with tension. A scarred man leaped from the shadows, his eyes blazing with a technique that fired a searing beam, its light slicing the hold like a blade. It was absurd, comic-book nonsense, but deadly. The beam missed, crashing into a crate with a splintering roar, wood shards flying. My heart pounded, adrenaline spiking, and I triggered the jade tablet, fingers trembling with urgency.
The tablet crumbled, and a blade of black mist formed, its edge pulsing with hunger. I swung, desperation guiding me, the motion fluid despite exhaustion. The cultivator's face twisted in shock, eyes wide, but he summoned a fire shield, flames flaring with a desperate sputter.
It shattered.
The black mist tore through, sparks cascading like dying stars, and the blade struck true. He slumped, blood pooling, his gasp swallowed by silence. My chest heaved, the coppery scent sharp, guilt and triumph warring within me.
Footsteps thundered, boots pounding wood. The captain burst in, red-faced, Meridian Tempering aura a storm, fists clenched, eyes bulging with fury.
"Kai Shen!" he roared, voice shaking the crates. "How dare you damage the cargo!"
I froze, the corpse at my feet, heart racing. Crates?
"Reporting!" I said, voice steady despite shaking hands, defiance masking fear. "I discovered this cultivator attempting sabotage and protected the ship!"
His lip curled, aura flaring, a sneer twisting his face.
"You take me for a fool?" he snapped, stepping closer, voice venomous. "I'll say this once: anyone starting trouble on this ship goes overboard. That includes you, Kai Shen!"
Bitterness rose, chest tight, my voice dripping sarcasm.
"I'm a peaceful cultivator," I said, eyes locked on his, refusing to yield.
He leaned in, breath hot, voice a low growl.
"Don't play me. You're all the same. Who do we have here? Kan O—assassin, looter, smuggler. Mid-stage Meridian Tempering. What's he doing here?"
He turned, shouting, voice cutting the air.
"Borai!"
A fat man waddled forward, robes stained, reeking of liquor, face flushed. His aura, sickly and filthy, outpowered the captain, making me gag.
"What?" he slurred, swaying, eyes glazed but sharp, a paradox of power and decay.
The captain gestured, face tight with irritation.
"Check the containment formation. The rest of you, scatter! Steal cargo, and you're overboard!"
Disciples fled, leaving me with the corpse. I resumed meditation, Song of Pure Flame struggling, fire Qi a trickle. The hold's cold deepened, lantern flickering, shadows dancing. The elders' trap was clear: no fire Qi, no progress. Their Core Formation condition was a lie, a jest. Anger simmered, but I focused on my meridians, resolve hardening.
The hold's silence was a tomb, broken by the airship's hum. I was alone, enemies all around, my ring and sword my only allies. The sect's hatred clung, a shadow crossing peaks. Why? The question burned, unhealed.
"We've arrived!" a shout rang out.
The airship slowed, and I stepped onto the deck, cold biting through my hanfu. A snow-cloaked peak loomed, an ice fortress gleaming, its walls refracting light like a prism. My body shivered, Song of Pure Flame flickering, fire Qi scarce. No warm clothes?
A young man leaped aboard, movements fluid, Qi cold and crystalline, alien to my fire.
"Why the delay?" he asked, voice sharp, eyes curious. "The teleport to Frost Ridge is about to open!"
Borai swayed, voice slurred but commanding, eyes glinting malice.
"Clan Leader's orders. Move it, haul cargo! You demonic spawn, follow me! Lag behind, pray for a quick death!"
He led? I hid my shock, following into the fortress, its ice walls carved with snowflakes, refracting rainbows. It was surreal, but danger loomed, my heart pounding.
What trap awaited at Frost Ridge, and why did Borai's gaze promise death?