A Song For The Ages

The call came on a quiet morning. Feiyin had requested an audience, and the answer was swift. He was led into the clan leader's chamber, a monumental hall of stone carved from a single mountain slab. Pillars etched with the likeness of titans rose upward, and the air carried the weight of ancient oaths.

At the far end sat Clan Leader Drakar, his frame vast, posture unyielding. Beside him stood Elder Fjord, arms crossed over his barrel chest, eyes gleaming with hidden mirth. Darak, the young clan leader, waited as well, leaning forward with anticipation.

Feiyin bowed, his hands pressed together. "Thank you for receiving me once more."

Drakar inclined his head, the motion slow and steady, like a mountain acknowledging the wind. "You have carried yourself with diligence and respect, Cai Feiyin. Speak. What weighs on your heart?"

Feiyin drew a breath, feeling the gravity of the moment. He raised his gaze, meeting the clan leader's solemn eyes. "I cannot remain here for much longer. I must soon return to the world outside. But before I go, I must tell you of the storm that lies ahead, and why I fight."

He began from the beginning. His voice was calm, but every word carried iron.

"The Saint Spirit Sect was not founded in righteousness. Its origin traces to a ninth phase cultivator, wounded and fleeing after the destruction of his sect for unspeakable crimes. He hid, and while he healed, he created this sect in secrecy to shield himself. But he is no master- he is a parasite."

Feiyin's voice grew harder. "In his desperation to restore his foundation, he has turned to the young. The disciples- our generation- are fodder. He feeds on their lives, preparing blood sacrifices to mend his cultivation spirit, which was damaged long ago. Once a ninth phase, he fell, and now hides at the early eighth. Yet his control is absolute, for he binds every disciple through the mother worm, the brood responsible for the parasites within their hearts."

Darak's fists clenched, his breath flaring hot. "He dares call himself a master while devouring his own disciples? Such a coward is not worthy of life!"

Feiyin nodded grimly. "If he remains, we are sheep penned for slaughter. If he falls, the young will have a chance to rise. If left unchecked, countless lives and talents will vanish before they bloom, since he intend to embroil the whole region in blood and war, and when the insectoids descend, there will be no strength to resist. He will flee again, abandoning all, just as he fled when his first sect burned. I will not allow it."

For a moment, silence reigned in the great hall. The carved titans above seemed to loom closer, listening.

Elder Fjord broke the silence with a low laugh, stroking his beard. "Hah. Your heart burns hot, boy. Most men would cower before such an enemy, yet you look him in the eye and bare your saber. That is the mark of one who will not bow."

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Drakar's gaze did not waver. When he spoke, it was heavy, unshakable. "Were it mine to decide freely, I would march beside you. But I am bound. As clan leader, I swore a vow upon my ascension. My charge is to guard this hidden valley, to keep our line unbroken. My oath binds me as surely as chains of iron. Until it is fulfilled, I cannot leave."

The words struck with the weight of mountains. Darak stiffened at his father's side, frustration tightening his features. But Drakar's voice softened, just a fraction. "Our strength must remain rooted here. The valley cannot be abandoned."

Feiyin bowed deeply. "I understand. Duty such as yours is heavier than any burden I bear. But the battle must still be fought."

Drakar's gaze shifted. "There is one unbound. Elder Fjord, your strength is vast, your will your own. Will you walk with him?"

Fjord threw his head back and laughed, the sound booming off the stone walls. "Rust has been creeping into these bones for years. If I do not move soon, they will stiffen forever. A fight against a devil, and perhaps a chance to see the world beyond again? Hah! Very well, Fei. I will join you. Let us see if this old hammer can still strike true."

Darak stepped forward immediately. "Then I too will-"

Drakar's hand lifted, halting him. "No, Darak. Your place as young clan leader is here. You are not yet ready. Grow stronger still, and one day you will surpass even me. Until then, you will guard our home."

The young giant's jaw tightened. His fists shook, but at last he bowed low. "Then I will hold the valley while you go. Return with victory."

Feiyin placed a fist to his heart, bowing to them all. "Your trust honors me. I will not waste it."

The days that followed were filled with preparation. Each morning, Feiyin climbed the Heavy Mountain, but no longer only for himself. His steps pressed deeper into stone, his organs pulsing with faint resonance as he tempered them gently, careful not to overreach. Each night, he returned to his chamber, yin refinement surging past ninety percent. Within his dantians, the moons around his nexuses shone like silver mirrors, steady and luminous.

He spent time with Fiona and Finn, answering their innocent questions, encouraging their crafts. With Darak, he sparred once more, their fists clashing under the watchful eyes of the clan. With Alaric, he debated alchemy late into the night, their discussions weaving body and essence into shared theories. Bonds were deepened, ties forged stronger, until the day of parting loomed close.

On the final evening, Feiyin stood with Gawain, the sole runic alchemist of the clan, before two blazing cauldrons. One pulsed with yin, the other with yang. Elder Fjord watched from nearby, solemn for once, his massive hands clasped behind his back.

"This pill," Feiyin murmured, "will help you merge your refined qi, yin and yang into one stream. It will condense into liquid form, stabilizing the step ahead."

Gawain closed his eyes, his innate sensitivity attuned to every flicker of essence. Feiyin let his oscillation sense unfold, weaving his musical intent into the process. Each herb, each mineral resonated, harmonizing like instruments in a symphony. The yin-concoction cauldron glowed with silver light, the yang-concoction cauldron with golden fire. When the time came, they brought the halves together, fusion trembling on the edge of collapse.

"Now!" Gawain barked.

Feiyin's hands blurred through hand seals, his song surging, holding the resonance steady. The two halves fused, a single pill forming, its surface etched with a faint rune of both yin and yang intertwined. The air quivered as the world itself acknowledged its birth.

Elder Fjord stepped forward, eyes gleaming. He took the pill in his massive palm, laughter erupting from his chest. "With this, even my rusted bones may shine again!"