A Song For The Ages

In the vast silence beyond the trial realm, the trial spirit watched. Its presence was formless, drifting through memory and will, bound to the legacy of the ancient dynasty. Among all those who had stepped into the ruins in this wave, none had stirred its interest quite like the boy named Feiyin. He carried pain, yes, but also clarity. The spark of something more.

After observing Feiyin's actions in the previous trials, the spirit reached into the repository of tests, searching for a challenge that would truly weigh the boy's spirit. It found one, long forgotten, a trial of command and burden. The spirit infused the selection into the orb that hovered before Feiyin.

Feiyin, still reflecting on the knowledge he had just absorbed, felt the pull. The orb flashed, and warmth surged through his limbs. In the space of a heartbeat, that warmth became heat, and then fire.

The chamber vanished.

He landed hard on uneven ground. His boots scraped across scorched soil, and the air hit him like a hammer, thick with smoke, screams, and burning metal. All around him, soldiers wearing the Celestial Jade dynasty armor scrambled to maintain their lines, eyes wide with fear and desperation.

Before Feiyin could fully assess the scene, a soldier sprinted to his side.

"Commander! You're finally here!"

Feiyin's head throbbed as knowledge about the trial's context flooded him. He knew he was meant to lead the soldiers in front of him. He knew the civilians behind them were evacuating. And he knew the Hive was coming.

He met the soldier's eyes. "Give me a report."

"The Hive breached our eastern flank. They released a Breeder, it's attempting to anchor itself near the ridge. Once that happens, they'll pour out reinforcements. We have to hold this position until the evacuation is complete."

Feiyin looked past the soldier.

Beyond the frontline, the sky shimmered with the glow of descending skyships. Their hulls glinted with ancient alloy, beams of light extending from their undercarriages to haul up lines of civilians. Women clutched their children, old men leaned on makeshift canes, and wounded soldiers were escorted by the few healers available toward the rampways. The air was thick with smoke, the scent of burnt stone and scorched metal rising from the burning city behind them. Ash drifted like snow, and distant explosions echoed through the fractured skyline.

The transfer array, once used to move large groups instantly, lay shattered, its sigils cracked, its pillars broken and smoldering. The Hive had targeted it first, knowing it was the quickest escape.

Now, the civilians could only rely on the skyships, and there weren't enough. The process was slow. Too slow.

Feiyin's jaw tightened. They had to buy time, yet as he turned to the other side, darkness rippled across the horizon. Insectoids, massive and swift, swarmed over the cracked terrain.

Their chitinous bodies gleamed under the dimming sky, reflecting the firelight from the ruins. Some spat streams of corrosive bile that hissed and ate through rock. Others surged forward in tight formations, climbing over the remains of their fallen to drive deeper into the field.

So far, the insectoids Feiyin had fought did not appear to channel or manipulate essence qi in any outward form. Their power came from their sheer physical prowess, hardened carapaces, brutal strength, and relentless endurance. Despite that, their durability easily rivaled the bodies of early-stage Qi Condensation cultivators, making each encounter dangerously costly if not handled precisely.

His saber flashed into his grip.

"Form a wide wedge around the central bastion! Focus on mobility, not fortification. We hold, but we bend if needed. Delay them, keep them away from the retreating line."

The soldiers sprang into action. Their training showed, but their morale wavered, this wasn't their first confrontation, and he could tell that the enemies had left a shadow on them. Feiyin could see the signs, the weight in their steps, the silence where there should have been shouts of confidence.

As the enemies approached, he surged forward into the chaos, his boots slamming against the cracked earth, the heat of the burning city behind him licking at his armor. In one fluid motion, he raised his saber, and the blade sang through the air like a whisper of death. The first insectoid fell, its chitin armor cleaved in two. Feiyin twisted, pivoted, and struck again, each blow precise, efficient, laced with his rippling Saber Intent. The energy lanced through thick exoskeletons, igniting bursts of burning ichor that hissed and sizzled upon the soil.

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He ducked beneath a set of scything mandibles, then retaliated with a savage horizontal slash that split the creature open shoulder to thorax. He was in the thick of it now, surrounded by swarms that shrieked and chittered, their eyes gleaming with alien hunger. Every strike had to count.

The clash of weapons, the stench of acid smoke, and the unrelenting screeches of the Hive bore down from every direction. Feiyin's breath remained steady, his stance rooted in practiced calm. With each precise movement, he transformed into a force of controlled violence, a storm of slashing limbs and severed insectoid bodies.

Through repeated battles, Feiyin had come to understand the true purpose of intent. It was not simply an extension of his will, but a refinement of it, a conduit through which his essence qi found its sharpest expression. By layering his Saber Intent over his flowing essence qi, he discovered how to amplify its lethality. His blade, now sheathed in rippling waves of darkened intent, shimmered with a deadly sheen.

With every swing, arcs of saber-light slashed outward, compressed waves of essence qi intertwined with his intent. They carved cleanly through clusters of Hive creatures, severing limbs and bisecting torsos in wide, sweeping arcs. Each strike sent sprays of glowing ichor flying, illuminating the cracked ground in bursts of sickly green.

Within his core, his three nexuses spun rapidly, pumping essence into his limbs and blade at a tireless rhythm. His sturdy meridians, long since tempered through harsh training and tempered by his own crafted recovery pills, held strong under the relentless surge. His energy flowed without interruption, unburdened, as if battle itself was his natural state.

And yet, the line behind him trembled.

Glancing back, he spotted a cluster of soldiers falling under the weight of relentless attackers. One fell to his knees while blocking a strike, another stumbled backward, too exhausted to parry the next blow. Despair was taking root, poisoning the air as surely as the acidic mist drifting from the dead enemy.

Feiyin gritted his teeth. Beyond his duty as a warrior, he was also appointed as a commander for this trial. Those soldiers were under his command, his responsibility.

He could not let them fall. Not like this.

He grit his teeth.

He could fight. But so long as fear dragged at their hearts, they would lose. Not to blades, but to despair.

His hand moved instinctively to his pouch.

His saber intent was undeniably powerful, but he also had another that could be used. His guqin appeared in his hands as he sheathed his blade.

He took a deep breath and stepped back from the front line, letting the clamor of battle fade to the edge of his mind. The air was thick with smoke and screams, but he pushed it aside as he sat on a chunk of shattered stone.

With a breath of calm, his fingers hovered for only a moment before brushing the strings, channeling essence qi through the tips of his fingers.

He infused his music with intent, not simply playing notes but pouring meaning into each sound. His essence qi flowed steadily, feeding the music and allowing it to carry further, deeper.

A single note rang out.

And the battlefield changed.

It was not the volume that mattered. The note wasn't loud, yet it echoed beyond the reach of sound. It slipped through smoke and steel, between blades and armor, into the very marrow of the listening soldiers, and reached it's target in their hearts.

Then came the next note, and another.

Feiyin played a song of resolve. Of standing when it would be easier to fall. Of grit forged in flame. He poured into the strings every moment of resistance he had ever known, every scar he had borne, every flame of hope that had refused to die.

The soldiers slowed, heads rising, hearts beating harder.

The wavering line began to hold.

He played faster, letting his intent reach deeper. He remembered Hui, her blue eyes and quiet laughter, and the pain of her absence. He remembered the orphans and the soft determination in their eyes, and the fire that refused to leave his heart.

His oscillation sense pulsed with the vibration of each note. He felt the world change around him.

When the melody rose with hope, the air grew lighter, the wind lifted the music across the battlefield. Swords moved more precisely, shields braced firmer. When rage flared in his chords, the very earth seemed to hum in response, and the soldiers struck with more weight, more fire.

Musical intent was rare and difficult to awaken, precisely because it was so vast, so deeply entwined with emotion, memory, and the intangible essence of the soul. Yet Feiyin had managed it. It resonated not only into the hearts of those who heard it, but shaped the very flow of the battlefield itself. It stirred willpower, refined the tempo of movements, and sparked purpose in those who had nearly lost it. In that moment, his music was more than a sound, it became a force that propelled the soldiers forward.

He rose again.

The guqin faded into his pouch, but the resonance did not vanish, maintained by his essence qi. It lingered like a rhythm behind every heartbeat.

Feiyin raised his saber.

He stepped forward into the fray.

The Hive met a wall of renewed will. They did not face mere soldiers. They faced men and women who remembered why they fought.