MTLNOVEL Chapter 15: *Chapter 15: The First Strike**
The river's edge was a battlefield of ice and stone. Dawn painted the frozen banks in hues of pale gold, but Li Tian saw only the patterns of qi swirling beneath the surface—threads of earth and water, sluggish with winter's grip. He stood in the **Rooted Willow** stance, bare feet numb against the frost, breath pluming in steady rhythm.
*Inhale through the soles. Exhale through the crown.*
The **Verdant Dragon's** basic breath cycle merged seamlessly with the scripture's celestial patterns now, his reforged meridians humming with hybrid vigor. When he struck the practice post (a lightning-scarred oak he'd dragged from the forest), the impact resonated up his forearm—firm, controlled, *dangerous*.
"Tian'er!"
Wen Lin's voice shattered his focus. She stood at the tree line, woolen shawl pulled tight against the cold. "The miller's wife needs herbs for her daughter's fever. Take these to their cottage."
She thrust a basket of dried snowbell roots into his hands. The request was routine; the miller's family had always treated them with distant kindness. But as Li Tian turned toward the village, he felt the weight of eyes between the pines.
Hong's gang had grown bold in Elder Guo's absence.
---
The miller's cottage crouched at Qingyun's eastern edge, its thatch roof sagging under snowdrifts. Li Tian quickened his pace, basket clutched tight. He'd nearly reached the door when gravel crunched behind him.
"Playing errand boy again?"
Wei and Jiao blocked the path, their breath reeking of fermented barley. Hong emerged from the mill's shadow, a gutting knife twirling in his hand.
"Heard your ma's been visiting the herbalist," Hong sneered. "Should've let the demons take her. Saved us the stench."
Li Tian's grip tightened on the basket. The **Earthen Veil Technique** stirred—a whisper of qi ready to blur him from sight. But Wen Lin's plea echoed in his mind: *Don't provoke them.*
He sidestepped.
Hong's knife slashed empty air. "Think you're clever now, ghost boy?"
The blade came again, faster. Li Tian leaned back, letting the strike graze his tunic. Cold steel kissed his ribs, drawing a bead of blood.
*Pathetic*, the Eternal Sovereign within him sneered. *To bleed from mortal steel.*
But Li Tian, the village boy, remembered the weight of his mother's cough. The miller's daughter shaking with fever. The fragile peace that hung by spider-silk threads.
He dropped the basket.
"Pick it up," he said, voice flat.
Hong blinked. "What?"
"The herbs. Pick them up."
Laughter erupted, sharp as ice shards. Jiao kicked the basket, scattering roots across the snow. "Or what? You'll cry to your demon friends?"
Li Tian's vision tinged red at the edges. The scripture's qi surged—not the trickle he'd painstakingly cultivated, but a torrent that burned his meridians raw.
**Seven Celestial Steps: First Form—Falling Star.**
His foot lashed out in a crescent arc, too fast for mortal eyes. The kick caught Hong's wrist, snapping bone with a wet crack. The knife tumbled, embedding itself in a drift.
Silence.
Then chaos.
Wei lunged, swinging a rusted chain. Li Tian pivoted, channeling qi through the **Verdant Dragon's** defensive posture. The chain wrapped his forearm—and *shattered*, links exploding like clay pellets.
Jiao froze mid-charge, face draining to corpse-pale. "D-demon!"
Li Tian advanced. His fist, guided by scripture's precision and mortal rage, struck the boy's solar plexus. Jiao folded like a gutted fish.
Hong scrambled backward, cradling his mangled wrist. "Stay back! I'll tell Elder Guo! I'll—"
Li Tian's hand closed around the blacksmith's son's throat. Qi pulsed through his fingertips, pinning Hong against the mill's wall.
"Tell him," Li Tian whispered, eyes blazing with stolen starlight. "And I'll show you *real* demons."
He released Hong, letting him crumple into the snow. The bullies fled, their whimpers swallowed by the forest.
---
**Twilight, Thirtieth Moon Cycle**
The miller's daughter survived the fever. Wen Lin accepted their gratitude—an extra sack of barley, a bolt of undyed linen—with quiet grace. She asked no questions about the bruises on Li Tian's knuckles, the way frost melted before his footsteps.
But the village spoke.
"Saw young Guo break a man's arm with one kick," the woodcutter muttered at the communal well. "Clean through, like snapping kindling."
"Fox magic," Widow Lan insisted, making the three-fingered sign. "Mark my words—that boy's soul's been replaced."
Li Tian heard them. Let them whisper. Each fearful glance, each hastily averted gaze, was a brick in the wall protecting his mother.
Until the night the stranger came.
---
He found Li Tian at the frozen river, practicing **Verdant Dragon** sword forms with a stick of ironwood.
"Interesting footwork," the man drawled, leaning against a birch. Moonlight revealed robes of storm-gray silk, a sword sheathed in scabbard carved with nine-tailed foxes. "But your grip's too tight. You'll snap the hilt before drawing blood."
Li Tian spun, stick leveled at the stranger's throat. "Who are you?"
The man smiled, teeth glinting like polished jade. "A passing observer. A collector of... curious talents." His gaze dropped to Li Tian's hands, where qi still shimmered around raw knuckles. "Tell me, boy. Who taught you to merge celestial patterns with mortal dross?"
The **Earthen Veil** surged instinctively, but the stranger's qi pressed down—a mountain's weight.
"Ah-ah." The man flicked his fingers. Li Tian's stick disintegrated to splinters. "Let's discuss this properly. My name is Luo Feng, of the Azure Dragon Clan. And you, little hybrid, are worth more than this backwater hovel."
Behind them, the river ice cracked—a sound like bones breaking.
---