The forest was still. The only sounds were Haoran's ragged breathing and the groans of the fallen men. The air smelled of damp earth and blood, yet Tianyin felt nothing—no rush of victory, no sense of triumph. This was not a battle won.
It was merely proof of survival.
Haoran's eyes burned with rage as he forced himself upright, one hand pressed against his bruised ribs. "You think this changes anything?" His voice was hoarse but defiant. "You're still an abomination."
Tianyin tilted his head slightly. "And yet, here I stand."
Haoran's face twisted in fury. "You think you're something special just because you've managed to survive without qi? You're nothing but a defect—an unnatural existence! You should have never been born!"
Tianyin didn't flinch. He had heard these words too many times before. They no longer held power over him.
But Haoran wasn't finished. "You can run, you can fight, but it won't change what you are. Father—" he spat the word like venom, "—has already sent word. The clan elders have placed a decree on your head. You are a stain that must be erased."
Tianyin's fingers curled slightly at his sides. A bounty.
"They won't stop," Haoran continued, his lips curling into a cruel smirk. "You can struggle all you want, but every major sect, every wandering cultivator seeking favor with the Xu Clan, will be hunting you now."
Tianyin held his gaze. "Let them come."
Haoran's smirk faltered.
A sharp laugh rang out. "Bold words."
The voice didn't belong to Haoran. It came from above.
Tianyin's muscles tensed as a figure descended from the treetops, landing gracefully on a thick branch. Dressed in dark robes with silver embroidery, the stranger exuded an aura of quiet menace. His eyes—pale, almost translucent—gleamed with amusement as he studied Tianyin.
"You must be the infamous outcast," the man mused. "Xu Tianyin, was it?"
Tianyin said nothing, his stance shifting subtly. This man was dangerous. Even without sensing qi, he could feel it in the air—like the weight of an approaching storm.
The stranger smiled. "I've heard the stories. A failure of a cultivator, born with a cursed fate, cast aside by his own blood. Yet, somehow, still breathing." His gaze flickered to the fallen Xu Clan members. "And making quite a mess."
Haoran's expression twisted. "This has nothing to do with you, Zhen Jiulan."
Zhen Jiulan. The name was familiar. A wandering cultivator with no allegiance, known for taking on high-risk bounties.
A hunter.
Tianyin exhaled slowly. Of course, word had already spread.
Jiulan ignored Haoran, his attention solely on Tianyin. "I was curious, you see. A man without qi, yet strong enough to defeat a group of trained cultivators?" He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "That's not something you see every day."
Tianyin remained silent. He didn't need to ask why Jiulan was here.
"I'll make this simple," Jiulan continued. "Come with me quietly. I'll make sure your death is quick. Otherwise…" He tilted his head, lips curving into a mockery of a smile. "Well, I'd rather not damage you too much. The Xu Clan prefers their executions to be presentable."
Tianyin exhaled slowly. He could feel Bai Yeming's gaze on him, but she did not interfere. This was his fight.
Jiulan sighed. "No answer? That's a shame."
And then he moved.
A flash of silver. A gust of displaced air.
Tianyin reacted on instinct, twisting to the side as a blade cut through the space where he had stood a heartbeat ago. Jiulan was fast—unnaturally so. His movements left no wasted motion, no excess energy.
Tianyin dodged again, barely avoiding the second strike. He couldn't afford to take a direct hit. Without qi to reinforce his body, a single well-placed blow could be fatal.
But he was not helpless.
Jiulan smirked. "Impressive reflexes." He adjusted his grip on the blade, his stance shifting. "Let's see how long you can last."
Tianyin didn't wait.
He lunged forward, closing the distance between them. If Jiulan relied on speed, then he couldn't give him space to maneuver. He aimed a strike at Jiulan's ribs, but the bounty hunter twisted, evading with almost inhuman fluidity.
Then, pain.
A shallow cut burned across Tianyin's shoulder.
Jiulan tsked. "You're good. But not good enough."
Tianyin gritted his teeth. He had to be smarter. His body couldn't match Jiulan's speed, but he had something else.
Unpredictability.
He shifted his weight suddenly, feinting left before twisting right. His fist connected with Jiulan's side—just barely, but enough to disrupt his balance. Without hesitation, Tianyin followed through, slamming his knee into Jiulan's stomach.
Jiulan staggered back, eyes wide with surprise.
Tianyin didn't stop. He pressed forward, forcing Jiulan on the defensive. His attacks were not precise, not elegant like a cultivated technique. But they were relentless, wild, a storm with no pattern.
Jiulan growled, frustration flickering in his gaze. He was used to fighting those who followed the rules of qi. But Tianyin's style was something else entirely.
A blade flashed toward Tianyin's throat. At the last second, he twisted his body, feeling the cold steel graze his skin. He grabbed Jiulan's wrist, forcing the blade away, then drove his elbow into the bounty hunter's jaw.
Jiulan stumbled.
For the first time, his amusement vanished.
"Enough," he hissed.
And then, Tianyin felt it.
The air trembled. A pressure—so heavy, so overwhelming—descended upon the clearing. Even without qi, he could sense the shift.
Jiulan's pale eyes darkened. "You're interesting," he admitted. "But I'm done playing."
A dangerous chill ran down Tianyin's spine.
Then, Jiulan vanished.