The night was oppressive, the blood moon hanging in the sky like a hooked blade. Shadow after shadow darted through the stifling darkness— some leaped through the brush, others circled high among the clouds, and still more burrowed through the earth. Their target was unmistakable— the formation shimmering faintly under the cold moonlight.
Tonight, the horde was determined to shatter the barrier.
Far back in the depths of the mountain forest, a swarm of weak, Qi Refining monsters shrieked and screeched incessantly, their cries punctuated by the occasional guttural roar. They moved like phantoms, their movements erratic and eerie to the extreme.
Outside the village gates, Chu Mingxi gripped his longsword, unleashing streak after streak of brilliant sword-light. Every time his blade flashed, blood followed. Yet no matter how many he cut down, the number of monsters surrounding him only seemed to multiply. He fought to suppress the rising agitation in his chest, clenching his teeth as he wove through the fray, desperate to keep the monsters from laying a hand on the formation’s core.
Suddenly, his heart jolted. He sensed a corner of the array being gnawed through. Although the formation’s built-in restorative power instantly sealed the breach, the horde did not retreat. How many more repairs could the barrier withstand?
This was only the beginning.
He hurriedly sent a voice transmission to Chu Mingyao, “Eldest Senior Sister, how much longer? The formation is at its limit! These monsters have gone mad. Should we call the sect for help now? Something is horribly wrong here!”
Three days ago, acting on Chu Mingyao’s command, Chu Mingxi and Guan Jingjing had fortified Danming Village. The resulting barrier was designed to shield the villagers from the encroaching miasma, though it didn’t cover the entire settlement. A single house at the village entrance had been left outside as a post for Chu Mingxi, Chu Mingbei, and Guan Jingjing. The rest of the garrison remained inside, a last line of defense for the civilians.
Once activated, the formation was a total lockdown. No one could enter or leave unless the array was forcibly shattered or deactivated by its caster. Even spiritual communication was severed by the barrier— though that restriction only applied to those below the Nascent Soul stage.
Set up in haste with limited materials, the formation was never meant for a protracted war. Still, in those first few hours, Chu Mingxi had enjoyed a brief moment of peace. With the villagers safe behind the barrier, he had finally unleashed his killing moves, slaughtering the audacious creatures that had spent days mocking him.
On that first night, the intruders were the same as always— screaming, jumping, and emboldened by the belief that the cultivators wouldn’t dare take their lives.
The boldest of the bunch were immediately taught a lesson by the formation, sent flying by its powerful rebound force. Those lucky enough to survive the impact were then taught by Chu Mingxi’s sword exactly what it meant to be a monster.
In their next lives, they would be better off learning their place. Just because an enemy appeared constrained by scruples did not mean they wouldn’t cast them aside at any moment. That entire first batch of intruders died beneath the blades of Chu Mingxi and his companions, granting the trio a rare, peaceful night free of the usual discordant noise.
However, just before dawn, a second wave arrived. These were slightly stronger, but Chu Mingxi cut them down all the same— only for a third group to appear shortly after. Throughout that entire day, three waves struck, each one suspiciously timed to coincide with the three daily meals.
On the second night, the strength of the attackers actually decreased. They were weaker, just more numerous and noisier. They were easily dealt with, as was the midnight swarm that followed. Chu Mingxi didn’t give it much thought at the time. It seemed like a standard, if persistent, harassment.
But by the next day, the frequency ramped up to four attacks— surpassing the rhythm of daily life.
And then came the present— the third night.
The monsters surrounding Danming Village were now beyond counting. There were simply too many. What pushed Chu Mingxi’s temper to the boiling point was the composition of this current horde— an endless flood of avian and rodent-type monsters.
Neither species was particularly formidable, and most were only at the Foundation Establishment level. However, they were unbearably loud. A massive flock of birds swirled in the sky, soaring so high they were difficult to reach, all while letting out sharp, piercing shrieks that felt like needles in the ear.
That alone would have been frustrating, but they were also scattered across an immense area. They weren’t seeking to deal physical damage; they were practicing mental warfare. They would fly in chaotic patterns, darting in and out of the shadows, screaming at the top of their lungs just to ensure no one below could find a single second of silence.
Chu Mingxi could easily fell a bird with a single swing of his sword. With the right angle, he could even bring down two or three. But the moment they dropped, several more would surge out of the dense forest shrouded in black mist.
The birds were merely the vanguard. The three of them had no time to focus specifically on these winged nuisances, whose screeching alone was enough to fracture one’s concentration. Yet, compared to the avian swarm, the rat monsters were far more insidious.
The incessant, high-pitched squeaking of the rats now encircled the village from below. These were burrowing creatures. While they inflicted constant auditory torment, they simultaneously gnawed at the roots of the formation. And although Chu Mingxi’s array included subterranean defenses that prevented them from surfacing to harm the villagers, their underground assault left the three cultivators with few effective counters.
The rats at the perimeter were a nuisance, but some had successfully burrowed directly beneath the village itself. Chu Mingxi was at a loss. He couldn’t strike them through the earth without risking damage to the very formation he was trying to protect. His only choice was to occasionally unleash large-scale area attacks to clear the soil.
But these wide-range strikes were a massive drain on his spiritual power. Even gulping down recovery pills like water couldn’t sustain such expenditure indefinitely.
To make matters worse, high-level predators had finally joined the fray. Wolves, tigers, and bears— monsters that had reached the Golden Core stage— emerged from the treeline. While they couldn’t fly and were fewer in number than the vermin, their physical strength was formidable. They acted as anchors, entangling the disciples in direct combat while their lesser kin hammered away at the barrier.
Only Chu Mingxi maintained enough mobility to maneuver freely between these heavy hitters. Guan Jingjing, being a mid-stage Golden Core outer disciple, had been forced to pair up with Chu Mingbei. Only by fighting back-to-back could they survive the relentless, multi-directional onslaught.
The numbers were simply too skewed. Neither Guan Jingjing nor Chu Mingbei possessed the raw power or the mental fortitude to remain calm under such a siege. Even Chu Mingxi, his ears ringing with the shrill cries of birds and the scratching of rats, was losing his cool. His irritation had turned into a cold, ruthless fury, making his strikes sharper and more lethal, but the pressure was becoming insurmountable.
When a corner of the formation was finally breached— and he felt the structural failure originating from the underground section gnawed away by the rats— Chu Mingxi hit his breaking point. After firing off a desperate voice transmission to Chu Mingyao, his hand hovered over his identity jade token. He was a hair’s breadth away from calling for a full sect reinforcement and admitting defeat.
The risk was becoming unbearable. What if the villagers were slaughtered? What if this bizarre, coordinated behavior from the monsters was merely the preamble to some horrific grand scheme?
Chu Mingxi realized he truly could not bear this responsibility. He had promised Chu Mingyao he would hold for three days, but that was under the assumption of ‘normal’ circumstances. If the monsters had remained as they were before, he could have lasted a week without breaking a sweat.
But this? This was a nightmare. He couldn’t hold. He needed to call for help— immediately.
His hand went instinctively to his identity jade token. This token was his lifeline to the Hall of Internal Affairs, allowing him to bypass the usual channels and alert the elder on duty. Such alerts were strictly limited, granted based on a disciple’s status and track record, and could be revoked or altered by the sect master or the elders at a whim.
Chu Mingxi had never used an emergency alert in his life. He had three remaining, and he was prepared to burn one right now.
But at that exact instant, a streak of sword-light tore across the horizon.
It was brilliant, unadorned, and carried a sense of extreme, absolute sharpness.
In the blink of an eye, the light crossed the heavens and plummeted toward the village. A young woman in green robes and a jade-colored dress appeared, standing with her back to him atop a suspended longsword.
At her temple, a pale blue bead emitted a gentle, steady glow, signaling that the Heavenly Water Screen had been activated.
On Chu Mingxi’s own earlobe, his matching bead earring hummed in response.
With a casual sweep of her sleeve, several strands of sword energy scattered outward. Soundlessly, they pierced the skulls of the monsters besieging him. The wounds were tiny— no larger than the tip of a chopstick— yet they found their targets with surgical precision.
The monsters collapsed instantly, dead before they hit the ground.
The identity jade token slipped from Chu Mingxi’s trembling hand, hitting the dirt with a dull clack. He didn’t even think to pick it up. He simply stared, stunned, at the figure who had appeared from nowhere.
Under his shocked gaze, the young woman turned her head slightly and flashed him a radiant, confident smile.
“What’s with the panic? Isn’t your eldest senior sister here now? It’s fine. Don’t worry. It isn’t time to go crying to the sect just yet.”