Dragon's Descent [Xianxia, Reverse Cultivation]

The lead rider dismounted with the fluid confidence of someone whose martial training exceeded village self-defense techniques. His clothing showed quality beneath travel stains—silk underlayers, professionally forged weapons, and spiritual accessories that marked him as a cultivator of considerable ability.

"Greetings, friends!" he called, his voice projecting false cheer over undertones of barely concealed menace. "I am Zhang the Iron Current, and these are my associates. We've come to discuss taxation matters concerning flood protection services."

Li Feng stepped forward, positioning himself between the strangers and the villagers. His depleted spiritual energy flickered around him like a candle flame in uncertain wind, but his voice carried steady authority.

"I am Li Feng of the Azure Waters Sect, and these people are under my protection. What taxation authority do you claim?"

Zhang's smile tightened, recognizing the implied challenge. "Ah, a sect disciple! How fortunate. You'll understand territorial authority and resource allocation."

He gestured toward the village's flood defenses. "These fine people are preparing significant construction projects. Such ambitious undertakings require... oversight... to ensure proper completion and ongoing protection."

"Your protection is appreciated but unnecessary," Li Feng replied diplomatically. "The village maintains adequate defenses under proper sectarian oversight."

Zhang's laugh held little amusement. "A single disciple for 'adequate defense'? Come now, we both know better. Why not collaborate toward mutual benefit?"

Around them, the villagers continued working with forced diligence, as if giving the strangers no attention. But Xiaolong noted the subtle adjustments in stance and grip, readying makeshift weapons under the guise of continued construction.

"I appreciate the offer," Li Feng said calmly. "But the Azure Waters Sect holds primacy in this region. Further collaboration would cause... confusion... regarding established lines of responsibility."

Zhang's expression hardened. "Confusion indeed. Perhaps some... impromptu restructuring... might clarify matters." He glanced at his associates, receiving subtle nods of acknowledgement.

"I see," Li Feng replied, his hand still resting on his sword hilt. "And how exactly are you proposing to resolve this misunderstanding?"

Zhang's smile returned, tinged with mocking confidence. "A brief demonstration, I believe."

His group spread out, weapons drawn and spiritual energy manifesting in visible auras around each fighter. They projected intimidation, the aura of people accustomed to quick, decisive action when faced with resistance.

Li Feng drew his wooden sword, the humble weapon's hidden properties activating as water-element spiritual energy flowed through its grain. His stance shifted into River Cutting Sword Art's classical opening position, though Xiaolong noted the subtle tremor in his hands that indicated meridian instability.

Zhang attacked without further warning.

The bandit leader closed distance in three rapid steps, his first strike aimed at Li Feng's center mass. Li Feng pivoted left, wooden sword rising to meet the assault, but Zhang was already elsewhere—sliding around the defensive motion like water finding cracks in stone.

Zhang's sword bit into Li Feng's shoulder, parting cloth and drawing blood before Li Feng could twist away. The wounded cultivator dropped into lower stance, sweeping his wooden sword in wide arc that forced Zhang to leap backward.

Li Feng's blade released water energy in a crescent wave, but Zhang's liquid technique bent his counter-attack's trajectory mid-strike, curving around Li Feng's guard like light passing through water.

Li Feng threw himself sideways, rolling across muddy ground. Zhang's blade whistled past his ear, close enough to slice several strands of hair.

Two of Zhang's associates moved to flank Li Feng's position. The earth specialist stomped his foot, sending shock waves through ground that erupted in jagged stone spikes. Li Feng rolled again, stones scraping his ribs as he barely avoided impalement.

The metal cultivator's chain whip snaked through air toward Li Feng's legs. Li Feng managed to parry with his wooden sword, but the impact sent vibrations up his arms that made his hands tingle.

Zhang pressed his advantage, flowing in from behind while Li Feng dealt with flanking attacks. His sword descended toward Li Feng's exposed back.

A root burst from the ground directly beneath Zhang's leading foot.

Zhang stumbled, his killing stroke going wide. Li Feng spun and thrust upward, his wooden sword catching Zhang in the ribs and sending him staggering backward.

The bandit leader's eyes narrowed as he regained balance. "Fortunate timing," he muttered, glancing around suspiciously.

Li Feng wiped blood from his shoulder, his breathing labored. "Keep working!" he called to the villagers. "Don't stop construction!"

Farmer Wong, who had been expanding drainage channels when the bandits arrived, continued his earth-churning technique. His aggressive soil manipulation created unstable ground that complicated the bandits' footing, though anyone watching would assume he was simply continuing his assigned tasks.

The earth cultivator raised both hands, gathering power for a devastating attack. Cracks spread through ground around Li Feng's feet, preparing to collapse into a pit that would leave him helpless.

A sudden gust of wind scattered dust from the earth cultivator's preparations, revealing the technique's pattern to Li Feng a crucial second early. He leaped aside as ground collapsed, landing hard but avoiding the trap.

The metal cultivator's chain whip cracked through air again, but this time it struck a patch of ground that had inexplicably become slippery as ice. The cultivator's footing gave way, his attack going high, allowing Li Feng to duck underneath and close distance.

Li Feng's wooden sword struck the metal cultivator's wrist, disrupting his grip on the chain whip. The man yelped and stumbled backward, cradling his numbed hand.

Zhang's corrupted water senses detected spiritual disturbances in the local environment, though their source remained frustratingly unclear. His gaze swept across the assembled villagers, searching for signs of hidden cultivation ability.

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"Interesting developments," he said, pausing to reassess the situation. "Your village possesses more spiritual protection than initially apparent."

"Senior Li Feng!" Wong called urgently from his position near the eastern barrier foundation. "You need to see this!"

His earth-element probing had uncovered something unexpected beneath the loose soil—a structure that predated the village's construction by considerable time.

Li Feng maintained his defensive stance while risking a glance toward Wong's discovery. Partially buried stones revealed deliberate arrangement, carved symbols that indicated ritual purpose rather than simple construction.

"An old shrine," Elder Duan observed, moving closer to examine Wong's find. "Dedicated to local water spirits, by the look of these carvings."

The discovery created unexpected pause in the conflict, as both groups found their attention drawn to emerging archaeological evidence. The shrine's stones bore inscriptions in flowing script used for water-spirit communication—ancient characters that maintained clarity despite decades of burial.

As more earth was cleared away, the shrine's complete structure became visible. Modest but beautifully crafted, designed to channel natural water flow through carved channels that would create musical harmonies when rain collected in proper pools.

"Grandmother Willow-Stream," Elder Duan said quietly, recognition dawning. "My grandmother told stories. The local water guardian, before we moved away from the old traditions."

The name hung in air like invocation, carrying weight that even Zhang's corrupted spiritual senses could detect. Water spirits, even minor local guardians, commanded respect from anyone wise enough to understand supernatural displeasure's consequences.

Soft splashing drew everyone's attention to the shrine's central pool, where spring water began bubbling up through channels that had been dry for decades. The water flowed clear and sweet, creating musical harmonies the shrine had been designed to produce.

The melody began subtly—water droplets creating rhythm as they fell into precisely carved basins. Additional channels activated as flow increased, adding complementary tones that built into something approaching actual music.

Then the water began to glow.

The phenomenon started as barely visible luminescence, as if moonlight had been dissolved into flowing streams. The glow intensified gradually, creating patterns that moved through the shrine's channels in spirals and cascades that defied simple hydraulic explanation.

Zhang stepped backward involuntarily, his corrupted cultivation reacting poorly to genuinely clean spiritual energy. His associates showed similar discomfort, their stolen power sources creating visible discord with the shrine's awakening harmonies.

The water's song grew stronger, accompanied by a presence that emerged from glowing streams like morning mist taking human form.

Grandmother Willow-Stream manifested as the sort of ancient water spirit that remembered when the valley had been shaped by different rivers, when human settlements existed in harmony with supernatural neighbors rather than building over forgotten sacred sites.

Her form shifted between states—sometimes an elderly woman whose hair flowed like silver streams, sometimes dissolving back into mist and water before reforming in slightly different configuration. Her voice carried distant waterfalls and rain whispers through leaves.

"The great waters bring friends and foes alike," she said, her words creating visible ripples in the shrine's pools. "Some seek to protect, others to profit from disaster."

Her attention focused on Zhang and his associates, whose corrupted spiritual signatures created obvious dissonance with her clean water essence.

"Those who poison streams for power find no welcome where pure waters flow," she continued, her voice taking on spring floods' inexorable quality. "But my influence extends only so far as these sacred grounds."

Zhang's cultivation began to falter as the shrine's influence spread through local water table. His corrupted power source, dependent on polluted spiritual energy, found itself increasingly isolated from clean water sources within the shrine's immediate vicinity.

"Local spirits possess limited territorial authority," he said, though his voice lacked earlier confidence. "Flood season brings many changes to established spiritual boundaries."

Grandmother Willow-Stream's laugh sounded like water running over smooth stones. "Limited authority? Child, I was negotiating flood patterns when your ancestors learned to walk. But you speak truth—my protection covers only this shrine and its immediate surroundings."

The shrine's influence created zones where Zhang's polluted techniques simply refused to function, but those zones extended perhaps fifty yards from the ancient stones. Beyond that perimeter, his corruption-based cultivation would operate normally.

"We withdraw for now," Zhang announced, recognizing the tactical situation's current limitations. "But floods reshape all boundaries, and spirits sleep when waters recede."

His group retreated toward their horses, movements hurried by the shrine's influence on local spiritual currents. Zhang paused only long enough to fix Li Feng with a stare that promised future encounters.

"Your protection extends only as far as ancient agreements hold," he called. "When the great waters come, they bring chaos that drowns old contracts alongside everything else."

They departed at speed, but not in full flight—a strategic withdrawal rather than panicked rout. They would return when circumstances shifted in their favor.

Li Feng slumped against the nearest construction barrier, exhaustion finally overwhelming his determination to maintain authoritative bearing. His wooden sword returned to dormant state as his spiritual energy circulation slowed to conservation levels.

Grandmother Willow-Stream turned her attention to the young cultivator, her expression softening from ancient authority to something approaching grandmotherly concern.

"Your efforts honor old agreements between water and those who work alongside natural forces," she said. "But the floods approaching carry more than simple water. Great spirits move in the northern streams, displaced by powers that care nothing for ancient boundaries."

"What sort of powers?" Li Feng asked, though Xiaolong suspected he already feared the answer.

"The kind that reshape landscapes according to whim rather than wisdom," the spirit replied. "The kind that view local guardians as minor inconveniences to be swept aside rather than allies to be consulted."

Her form began to fade as the shrine's activation reached sustainable limits. "Prepare well, young protector. The waters that come will test more than engineering skill—they will challenge bonds between human community and natural harmony."

She dissolved back into flowing streams, leaving behind only the shrine's continuing music and water that glowed faintly in morning light.

The villagers stood in awed silence, processing their encounter with powers that existed beyond human cultivation techniques yet clearly maintained interest in human welfare.

Li Feng straightened slowly, responsibility weighing heavier than physical exhaustion.

"We continue construction," he announced, his voice carrying new determination despite obvious depletion. "But we also prepare for challenges that extend beyond simple flood management."

Xiaolong watched him rally the villagers back to their construction tasks, his leadership inspiring renewed effort despite the morning's revelations about supernatural complications ahead.

"What do you think?" Xiaolong asked, turning to Hui Yun, who had reappeared sometime during their encounter with Zhang and Grandmother Willow-Stream.

"Me?" the fox replied, scratching one ear absently. "I think we're headed towards interesting times, which makes me glad to be here."

Xiaolong sighed, recognizing another oblique response that deflected instead of clarifying. Hui Yun excelled at providing information that complicated rather than simplified situations.

As construction resumed around the awakened shrine, Xiaolong reflected on the morning's events. Zhang's withdrawal had been tactical rather than final—he would return with different approaches when the shrine's protection proved insufficient against larger threats.

And those threats might not manifest as simple water spirits or corrupted cultivators.

The northern mountains held powers as old and wild as the rivers they contained—forces that maintained casual regard for human events yet influenced mundane affairs through their mercurial whims.

Xiaolong suspected she would learn more about those forces soon enough.