A Fist and a Sword
The night wind bit cold when Lin Xian awoke.
Qi churned through his meridians like a slow-moving tide; heat pulsed under his skin, each beat echoing against bone. The spirit stones beside him were nothing but gray husks, yet his body thrummed with a new intensity. The air around him vibrated with a pressure that hadn't been there
before.
Beside him, Xiao Jin slept curled into a golden ring, fur glowing faintly in the moonlight like molten sunlight poured into flesh.
When Lin Xian rose, the kitten stirred, pawing weakly at his sleeve as if begging him to stay.
He smiled, voice low.
> "I know, little one. But dawn won't wait for me."
---
The Weight of Power
Behind the Lin Clan, the forest was a sea of fog. Lin Xian leapt onto a high ledge, his gaze piercing the night. Far below, Azure Cloud City's lights flickered- its distant lanterns flickering like dying souls.
He flexed his hand. Power pressed outward, invisible yet heavy.
Each breath left vapor in the cold air; each heartbeat carried thunder beneath calm flesh.
His cracked sword lay beside a boulder, reflecting moonlight like a scar.
> "A dull blade and a weak body... that's a death sentence the moment I step onto the battlefield."
He set his palm on stone and released a pulse of qi. The rock quivered—then cracked like ice under pressure.
Dust drifted upward.
> "Let's see how much the body remembers."
---
Shadow Nirvana Fist — The Soundless Kill
Lin Xian inhaled slowly.
Qi surged through his meridians with a silent, inexorable force, like a rising tide filling every crevice.
He lowered his stance before the towering boulder — a slab of mountain nearly twice his height, cold and immovable under the moonlight.
The air thickened around him. Leaves stopped swaying. The forest held its breath.
Then, he moved.
His fist blurred forward.
No sound. No gust. No warning.
For a single heartbeat, nothing seemed to happen —
then the surface of the boulder sank inward, as though an invisible hand had pressed its heart flat.
The stone didn't crack — it folded.
A moment later, the entire mass imploded, collapsing into a heap of gray dust that scattered across the clearing like dying ash.
That was the first form of the Shadow Nirvana Fist Form
A strike that conceals explosive power within a motionless stance. The impact is devastating, but it makes no sound until it's far too late.
Lin Xian stepped again, his eyes sharp as the blade's edge.
Qi coiled tighter. His body flickered.
The second strike fell.
The blow landed in utter silence.
A heartbeat later, the air rippled and the ground erupted. Shattered stone fragments shot outwards as an invisible shockwave tore through the area.
That was the second form — Shadow Abyssal Pulse — an echo strike,
The air grew thick with dust and the smell of shattered rock. As the debris began to settle, it coated everything in a fine, gray powder.
> ""This power... it's still too weak. When I move, my shadow should make the earth itself tremble."
---
Shadow Severing Sword Art
Lin Xian drew his sword.
The old blade trembled in his hand, cracks running along its edge, but its spirit still burned faintly beneath the moonlight.
> "Let's see if you can still dance once more," he said softly.
He took a calm breath, his eyes steady. Then—he moved.
The first stance — Silent Edge.
His sword slid through the air without a sound.
It didn't just cut the air—it severed space
There was no sound, no burst of power—only a quiet flash.
A leaf drifted past his blade, and by the time it landed, it had been cut cleanly in half.
The second stance — Shadow Piercing.
He shifted his footing, the movement smooth and fast. His sword thrust forward, disappearing into the night air.
A faint streak of light shot out, sharp and narrow like a needle.
The nearby boulder cracked open with a deep rumble, a single line cutting straight through its center.
The third stance — Lunar Eclipse Slash.
Lin Xian turned his wrist and stepped forward. His entire body moved like a shadow gliding through the moonlight.
Then, in one sweeping motion, he struck.
A silver arc flashed across the clearing—swift, silent, and absolute.
The air split apart with a low hum, and a thick tree in front of him was sliced in two.
For a moment, the halves stood perfectly still—then slowly slid apart, leaves raining down around him.
Lin Xian stood still, lowering his sword. He let out a slow, controlled breath, but his hand trembled slightly from the strain.
> "Still… not perfect," he murmured. "But better."
The cracked sword gave a faint hum, then quieted. Lin Xian looked down at it, his expression calm.
> "You've done enough," he whispered, sheathing it gently.
Moonlight fell on his pale hair as he stood there, silent among the falling leaves—like a lone shadow that had just finished a deadly dance.
---
The Eye of Insight
He closed his eyes—then opened them.
Golden light threaded through his pupils.
The world slowed.
Every drifting leaf, every pulse of night-qi, every heartbeat within a hundred steps unfolded before him.
He raised his hand; a falling leaf crossed his line of sight.
His fist moved once—clean, silent.
The leaf split in two.
He smiled,
> "Even without strength… precision can kill gods."
---
Shadows in Motion
A wooden training puppet stood half-rotted nearby. Lin Xian flicked a spark of qi into it. It shuddered awake, joints creaking.
It lunged.
Insight activated.
Lin Xian slid aside. Phantom Step left five afterimages weaving through the mist. The puppet struck each illusion and missed every one.
> "Shadow Burial."
The true Lin Xian appeared behind it; his fist pierced the core. A breath later, delayed force erupted—wood exploded into splinters.
He steadied his breath, chest heaving.
> "Barely enough. Against a real cultivator, I'd be the one in pieces."
Xiao Jin mewed approvingly from a branch above, tail swaying like a golden flame.
Lin Xian chuckled, reaching up to scratch its chin.
> "You think I did well? Then I'll take that as praise."
The kitten purred, a soft melody against the still night.
---
Dawn on the Edge of Shadow
Sunlight broke through the trees and scattered the mist.
Lin Xian rose, dusting off his cloak with a quiet exhale.
> "Alright. Better herbs, better gear, and a few more spirit stones. The Pill Academy should have what I need."
The wind blew past him, carrying dew… and the faint bite of ash.
A pale-haired youth stood unmoving, golden eyes steady—yet burning with a promise only he understood.
Something within him sharpened—
a blade being tempered, slowly, relentlessly.
Soon, it would cut through anything that stood in its way.
Even the heavens.