The Beast and the Blow

The morning sun had barely crested the St. Ancestral Mountains when the expedition stumbled into a wide clearing. Dew clung to every blade of grass, sparkling faintly, but the air carried a weight that did not belong to morning.

A musk — sharp, rancid, animal.

The clearing felt wrong. Grass pressed flat in patches, as though massive bodies had rolled there. Claw marks gouged deep into bark, high as a man’s chest. A tree trunk was snapped in half, its splinters stained with old blood. No birds sang. Even the insects were silent, as if the forest itself had learned to keep its breath.

Nie Li knelt in the tall grass, fingers brushing a broken branch. A tuft of coarse gray fur clung to the bark, oily and foul. He bent lower, eyes narrowing.

“Fox Bear,” he murmured.

Xiao Ning’er crouched beside him, her silver eyes flicking toward the forest’s edge. “Rare for this part of the range.”

Nie Li nodded grimly. “And territorial. This was fresh. The den’s close. If we linger until dusk, they’ll surround us.”

A voice rang from behind.
“Who’s there?”

Chen Linjian emerged from the trees with half a dozen of his men. His armor gleamed in the pale light, polished and proud. At his side walked Shen Yue, already scowling as if Nie Li’s presence alone offended him.

“Nie Li?” Chen Linjian’s brow lifted. “What are you doing so far from the column?”

“Following a trail,” Nie Li replied. He gestured to the fur. “This den isn’t abandoned. If we’re still here at sundown, we’ll be the ones surrounded.”

Shen Yue barked a laugh. “Guesswork. You just want to sound important. Hoping Ziyun notices?”

Nie Li didn’t answer him. His eyes stayed on Chen Linjian.

The older boy stepped forward, plucking the fur free and sniffing it once. His sharp features hardened. “Fresh. And the musk is strong… marking territory.”

Nie Li inclined his head slightly. “This place is claimed. We should move before nightfall.”

Shen Yue spread his arms wide, mocking. “Because he says so? This boy’s barely Bronze-ranked. Lucky if he can kill a squirrel. And you’d move a whole expedition for him?”

But Chen Linjian didn’t look at Shen Yue. He looked at Nie Li — long, measured. The way a commander weighs not a man’s rank, but his certainty.

“You haven’t been wrong yet,” Linjian said finally.

For a moment, silence. Then Linjian nodded once, decisive. “Break camp early. We move.”

That night, when the thunder of paws and the enraged roar of Fox Bears shook the ground behind them, the entire expedition knew exactly what Nie Li had saved them from.

But relief didn’t silence suspicion.

Around the new camp, nobles whispered. Some grudgingly admitted Nie Li had been right. Others scoffed, their pride wounded at being led by someone with no spirit beast, no pedigree, no shining soul realm.

Chu Yuan, a sharp-eyed Silver-ranked disciple from a minor noble family, smirked at every mention of Nie Li’s name. He watched him quietly across the fire, eyes narrowing, looking for his chance.

That chance came when Ye Ziyun passed nearby, her steps calm and composed as always.

Chu Yuan stepped forward, his voice loud enough for all to hear:
“Nie Li — let’s spar.”

The chatter stopped. All eyes turned.

Nie Li did not rise. His gaze stayed fixed on the fire. “No.”

Chu Yuan’s smirk spread. “Afraid? That’s fine. No one expects much from a weakling.”

The crowd stirred. Ziyun paused mid-step, her face tightening.

Slowly, Nie Li stood. He stepped into the circle of light. “You want strength measured?” His voice was quiet, heavy. “Then I’ll show you — once.”

The crowd pulled back, forming a ring. Torches lifted. Nobles leaned in, grinning, eager for blood. Ziyun stood near the edge, her hands clenched white against her sleeves. Chu Yuan bowed mockingly, the picture of noble arrogance. Nie Li only stood, silent, as though already beyond the crowd’s noise.

Chu Yuan grinned, hands clasped behind his back. “Three free moves. I’ll give you three.”

Nie Li tilted his head slightly. “It is you who will need them.”

The match began.

Chu Yuan stood flashy, overconfident. Nie Li shifted like a whip — a feint, a twist, and then his fist drove straight into Chu Yuan’s gut.

Crack.

The boy folded like a broken reed, vomiting across the dirt, collapsing in front of thirty pairs of eyes.

Gasps. Silence.

Lu Piao’s jaw dropped. “One punch…”

Du Ze, calm as ever, spoke softly: “He never needed three.”

Chu Yuan writhed, choking.

Nie Li stood over him, voice quiet. “That was one. Two remain.”

The crowd froze, uncertain whether to laugh, cheer, or fear.

But Chu Yuan’s shame boiled like oil. He heard the whispers. The laughter. Saw Ziyun’s startled gaze. His pride screamed louder than his pain.

And so he snapped.

Without warning, his soul realm surged. A wave of raw force, unseen by most but felt by every sensitive in the clearing, blasted outward. He aimed it straight at Nie Li’s core.

“Chu Yuan—!” voices cried.

Huyan Lanruo’s eyes widened. “He’s striking his soul realm!”

Ziyun stepped forward, panic flashing. “That could destroy him—!”

But Chen Linjian only watched, arms folded, gaze sharp. “So. What will you do, Nie Li?”

The others expected resistance — screams, collapse, something.

Instead, Nie Li stood still. Silent. His face unreadable.

The wave crashed into him like a tidal force hammering a sealed door. Inside, his soul-gate shuddered as the blows struck, each wave pressing like a hammer on stone. Pain licked his spine — not from breaking, but from holding. The Seal did not waver. It rang like an anvil, unbroken, unbent.

Again and again Chu Yuan drove it forward, sweat beading, veins bulging, until his entire body trembled with the effort.

Nie Li did not flinch.

Seconds passed. A minute. The silence deepened.

And still Nie Li stood — steady, calm, eyes fixed on his opponent.

At last, Chu Yuan faltered. He staggered backward, clutching his temple, gasping for breath. His voice shook.
“That’s… that’s impossible… His soul realm— it’s sealed. Solid. Like iron. Nothing I did touched him!”

The crowd erupted.

“Sealed?”
“No way.”
“Only masters at Legend rank can do that…”
“He’s thirteen.”

Whispers hissed through the ring. Some awed: “Unshakable.” Others bitter: “A trick — it has to be.” A few looked at him with naked fear, as though he had become something other than human. The Seal had kept him safe, but it had also set him apart.

Huyan Lanruo crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. “Just how many secrets do you have, Nie Li?”

Ziyun stared, awe and unease tangled in her gaze and thought. “If this is strength… why does he look like he lost something?”

Chen Linjian said nothing — but his eyes lingered, thoughtful, weighing.

Nie Li turned, walking away in silence. But inside — fire.

A burning coiled in his chest, racing down his spine like a brand. His knees buckled slightly. Sweat stung his brow.

And then — the Voice.

“Did I arm you to endure, or to be admired?
You called silence obedience — but it was pride wearing a mask.
You let your Seal speak for you. You let awe replace trust.
You let yourself be seen.”

Nie Li clenched his fists. But I didn’t strike back—

“And yet you turned stillness into spectacle.
You turned remembrance into performance.
Obedience hides. Ambition performs.
You gave the world reason to fear you — not reason to remember Me.”

The fire seared his soul. Nie Li bowed his head, whispering through gritted teeth: “No. It wasn’t worth it.”

The burning eased — but it did not leave.

That night, away from the others, Xiao Ning’er found him sitting alone at the fire’s edge.

“What happened?” she asked softly.

Nie Li stared at his hands. “I failed.”

“You won.”

“That wasn’t victory. That was pride. The Seal isn’t mine to flaunt. It was given for remembrance — not spectacle.”

She studied him, her silver eyes glinting in the firelight. “You carried fire and didn’t burn. Anyone else would be boasting. But you sit here blaming yourself.” She hesitated, voice softening. “That’s why I believe you. Because you’re afraid of yourself.”

Nie Li’s gaze lifted, haunted. “That’s no excuse.”

“They’ll come again,” she said. “Chu Yuan. Shen Yue. They can’t stand being humiliated. They’ll push harder.”

“I know.”

“So what will you do?”

Nie Li looked up at the stars, his eyes steady.
“Not fight for myself again,” he said.
“Only for what’s sealed.”

The fire crackled. Beyond the trees, the forest whispered.

The Voice was silent.
But Nie Li knew it was listening.