Lin Feng stood in the clearing, his breath coming in heavy gasps as his eyes never left his opponent. Chen Zhen was circling him, his sword held with casual ease, almost as though he were toying with him. Lin Feng's body was sore, his muscles trembling with fatigue, but something within him burned brighter than ever. The fight was not yet over, and he refused to back down.
For a moment, there was only the sound of their breaths and the soft rustling of the leaves in the wind. The tension was palpable, and Lin Feng could sense that this fight was about more than just a test of strength—it was about something deeper, something unspoken. The energy that flowed through him was wild and untamed, almost like an extension of his own instincts. His movements were no longer calculated; they were fluid, instinctive, a dance between himself and the sword, between himself and the world around him.
Chen Zhen's expression shifted. His casual demeanor faltered as he raised an eyebrow. "You're not as weak as you look, kid," he said with a smirk, but Lin Feng could see the growing respect in his eyes.
Lin Feng didn't respond. His sword remained poised, his eyes focused on Chen Zhen's every movement. The older man was quick, and every strike was calculated to push Lin Feng to his limits. Lin Feng's mind raced, but the more he fought, the more he felt the energy within him align with his swordsmanship. He had learned something important in this fight—he was no longer just reacting to the opponent's moves. He was thinking ahead, predicting the flow of battle, and controlling the energy within him with more confidence.
The next few exchanges were a blur of steel and sparks. Lin Feng was able to deflect Chen Zhen's blows with more precision, his strikes gaining speed and power. And yet, despite his improvements, he could feel the gap between them. Chen Zhen's experience was apparent in every move he made, his blade a blur of deadly efficiency. Lin Feng knew he wasn't quite there yet, but he wasn't about to let that stop him.
Suddenly, Chen Zhen's expression grew darker. His eyes narrowed, and his sword moved faster, with more intent. Lin Feng felt the pressure increase, and he could tell that the older man was no longer holding back.
A sharp slash came toward Lin Feng's face, but he parried just in time. The force of the blow pushed him back, his feet sliding across the dirt. His vision blurred with the effort, and a sting of pain shot through his side where the previous wound had not yet healed completely.
"Is this all you've got?" Chen Zhen taunted, his voice filled with amusement and malice. "You think you can just waltz into the world of cultivation, thinking it's all about growth and strength? You have no idea what it really takes."
Lin Feng's breath hitched, and a spark of anger ignited within him. I know exactly what it takes! he thought. But his body was weary, his energy beginning to wane as the fight stretched on. He needed to push harder, find a way to turn the tide.
But in that moment, something in him snapped. The energy coursing through his body—wild, untamed, and unrelenting—flared up, surging to the surface with a violent intensity. The sword in his hand hummed, vibrating as though it were alive, responding to his emotions, to the raw power inside him.
Before Lin Feng even realized what was happening, he lunged forward, his sword striking with an almost predatory speed. The blade sang through the air, cutting a path that was faster and more precise than anything he had done before. His body moved like lightning, his strikes fueled by a surge of energy that seemed to come from nowhere.
Chen Zhen was forced to retreat, his eyes widening as Lin Feng pressed the attack. The younger man's movements were fluid, seamless, like he was no longer fighting a man, but the very essence of combat itself. The energy that flowed through him was no longer just a tool—it was part of him, part of his soul, guiding his every action.
Lin Feng's sword flashed in the air, each strike pushing his opponent back. For a moment, it seemed as though he had gained the upper hand. Chen Zhen's eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and wariness. He blocked a particularly vicious strike, but the force of it sent him stumbling back, his feet slipping in the dirt.
"I see…" Chen Zhen muttered, his expression darkening. "You're starting to understand the power of the Divine Path. But you don't know what you're really tapping into, do you?"
Lin Feng hesitated for only a moment, but that brief pause was enough. Chen Zhen's sword moved with sudden speed, a flash of steel that slashed across Lin Feng's chest. The pain was immediate and sharp, and Lin Feng staggered back, clutching his wound. His breath came in ragged gasps, his vision swimming as he fought to keep his focus.
"Cultivation is not just about strength, boy," Chen Zhen continued, his voice low, almost like a whisper. "It's about control. The energy you wield… it can break you, destroy everything you are. You're treading a dangerous path, Lin Feng. I've seen it before. People like you—hungry, desperate for power—are the ones who fall the hardest."
Lin Feng gritted his teeth, his hand trembling on the hilt of his sword. The words hung in the air like a heavy weight. He could feel the power coursing through him, but now it felt different. It was darker, more insistent, as though it were trying to consume him. He had felt it before—the pull, the hunger—but now, it was stronger than ever.
He glanced down at his bleeding chest, the wound already beginning to heal, the energy within him working to close it. But it wasn't enough to calm the chaos inside. The more he tapped into the energy, the more he felt something slip within him—something he couldn't control, something that wanted to break free.
"I… I won't let you control me," Lin Feng muttered, though his voice trembled. He couldn't let the darkness take hold of him—not now.
Master Jian's voice suddenly rang out from the side, cutting through the tension. "Enough!"
Both Lin Feng and Chen Zhen froze. The old man's figure appeared at the edge of the clearing, his presence like a commanding storm. His eyes were fixed on Lin Feng with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine.
"Leave him, Chen Zhen," Master Jian said coldly. "This test is over."
Chen Zhen smirked, but he didn't argue. With a final glance at Lin Feng, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the trees.
Lin Feng stood there, his sword still in hand, his body shaking with exhaustion and fear. The energy inside him was still surging, though now it felt like a burden. The hunger, the darkness, it was all too much. He could feel the pull growing stronger, and a part of him was afraid that, just as Chen Zhen had warned, he might lose himself.
Master Jian approached him slowly, his gaze unreadable. For a long moment, there was only silence.
"Are you all right?" Master Jian finally asked, his voice softer than usual.
Lin Feng nodded, though the uncertainty in his chest refused to leave. "I… I don't know anymore."
Master Jian's eyes softened for a brief moment before his expression hardened again. "You've taken your first step onto the path of cultivation, Lin Feng. But be aware—this path is not an easy one. Power is a double-edged sword. You must learn to master yourself before you can hope to master anything else. The darkness you feel—it's a part of this world. But don't let it consume you. If you do, it will destroy you."
Lin Feng looked down at his sword, the blade still humming with energy, still alive with power. The hunger, the darkness—it was all there, calling to him. He didn't know what his future held, but one thing was certain: this was only the beginning. And the path ahead would not be kind.
"I will control it," Lin Feng whispered, more to himself than to Master Jian. "I will not lose myself."
But even as the words left his lips, Lin Feng couldn't shake the feeling that the path he was walking was far darker than he could ever imagine.