Dreamwalker: Reign of the Heavenly Sovereign

Nestled in a valley of mist and ancient pines, the secluded Fang Clan village slumbered beneath a silver moon. Inside one of its many wooden chambers, the dim glow of lanterns flickered against the walls, their light casting long, wavering shadows.

The air was thick with the scent of sweat and desire, mingling with the faint fragrance of incense. The only sound breaking the silence was the slow, rhythmic creak of a wooden bed.

Fang Lee sat astride the trembling form of a disheveled girl, her flushed skin glistening in the lantern light. Meng's delicate body quivered, exhaustion weighing down her limbs.

"Young Master, I… I can't keep going.. anymore~" she whispered, her voice hoarse and raw.

Fang Lee smirked, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face. "Nonsense. I know you can—"

Swish!

A blade tore through the paper-thin walls, slicing through the air at a speed no normal human could perceive, let alone dodge.

But Fang Lee was no ordinary man.

His instincts flared. In a blur, he shifted, narrowly avoiding the lethal strike. The dagger embedded itself into the wooden bedframe with a sharp thunk!

Before he could react, the chamber door slid open, sending a gust of cold air whipping through the room.

A girl stood at the threshold, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her breath heavy with emotion. She wore a flowing green hanfu, its silken fabric shifting with her rapid movements. In her trembling hand, she clutched another dagger, its blade gleaming ominously in the lantern's glow.

"Fang Lee, you bastard!" she cried, her voice filled with betrayal and fury.

She lunged—not at him, but at Meng, still sprawled weakly on the bed.

Fang Lee's eyes flickered with a cold gleam. Clever. The attack was never meant for him—it was a feint to push him away, creating an opening for her true target.

Ting!

Steel met steel as Fang Lee wrenched the embedded dagger from the bedframe and parried her attack mid-air. Sparks flew as their blades clashed.

"Lian Xue?" Fang Lee murmured, finally recognizing the intruder. His so-called fiancée, within this dream.

He scrutinized her, his lips curling slightly in disdain. Compared to even a lowly maid like Meng, Lian Xue's figure was lacking—no curves to speak of, her features plain against the breathtaking beauties of the Fang Clan.

His grip on the dagger tightened.

"Lian Xue, what do you think you're doing?" Fang Lee asked, but got no reply as she wasn't looking at him. 

Her trembling gaze burned into Meng, her emotions a storm of hurt and rage.. Without hesitation, she raised a slender finger, her voice steady yet brimming with killing intent. 

"Azure Needle Strike."

A pulse of qi crackled through the air as a needle of condensed energy formed at her fingertips. It shot forward like lightning—aimed straight for the defenseless Meng. 

*Ting!* 

Metal rang against energy as Fang Lee's dagger intercepted the needle mid-flight, shattering it into harmless sparks. 

Annoyance flickered across his face. 

With a swift motion, he lashed out with a brutal kick, his bare foot striking Lian Xue's midsection with enough force to send her crashing through the delicate paper walls of the chamber. 

*Boom!* 

She tumbled across the wooden floor, knocking over a lantern stand before skidding to a stop. 

Fang Lee exhaled sharply, his amusement briefly surfacing as he muttered, "Ten Sacred Swords." 

His inner Otaku and Xianxia fan relished moments like this.

Golden qi shimmered above his palm, forming a single glowing sword—then, in a dazzling display, it split into ten. Razor-thin blades, each humming with lethal energy, floated around him like celestial instruments of judgment.

He turned to Meng, who was now trembling, the weight of her near-death experience sinking in.

"Get dressed," he ordered, his voice devoid of warmth.

Meng scrambled to obey as Fang Lee stepped off the bed, his eyes already on the broken wall. With slow, deliberate steps, he advanced, his qi-forged swords orbiting him like silent sentinels.

*Lian Xue's POV*

Her heart pounded like a war drum, her breaths ragged as she stood at the doorway, dagger clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white. The sight before her twisted her stomach—Fang Lee, her fiancé, tangled in the sheets with another woman. A maid, no less. 

Betrayal burned through her veins like molten fire. 

"Fang Lee, you bastard!"

She lunged. But her strike wasn't aimed at him. No, she wanted the girl dead.

If she had attacked him directly, he would've been on guard. But by targeting the maid, she forced him to move—forced him to choose. And just as she expected, Fang Lee reacted instantly, his dagger intercepting her blade with a sharp Ting! before his voice rang in shock.

"Lian Xue?"

The way he said her name made something inside her snap. As if she were some passing acquaintance—some nuisance, unworthy of recognition. As if they weren't bound by a marriage contract, as if she hadn't been raised with the expectation of becoming his wife. 

And yet, even as she stood here, his gaze wasn't filled with guilt.

It was annoyance. 

Her lips trembled, her fingers tightening around her dagger as she raised her other hand and pointed straight at the terrified maid. 

"Azure Needle Strike."

The words left her lips with a deadly finality, her qi surging like a silent storm. A thin, glowing needle of pure azure energy formed at her fingertips before launching toward its target. 

Meng's eyes widened, her body frozen in terror. 

The needle was fast enough to kill her. And also too fast for her to dodge.

But not fast enough for him. 

*Ting!* 

The sharp clang of metal rang through the chamber as Fang Lee's dagger intercepted her strike mid-air, scattering her qi technique into harmless sparks. 

And before she could even react— 

*Thud!* 

A force like a raging beast crashed into her stomach. The breath was ripped from her lungs as Fang Lee's brutal kick sent her flying backward. 

The impact sent her crashing through the paper wall, splinters and shreds of fabric exploding around her as she tumbled onto the wooden floor beyond. A sharp pain flared in her ribs, her dagger slipping from her fingers. She gasped, struggling to force air back into her lungs. 

*Third person POV*

The faint scent of scorched paper and charred wood lingered in the air as Fang Lee stepped forward, his bare feet brushing against splintered debris. The dim lanterns flickered restlessly, their glow stretching his shadow long against the wooden floor.

Beyond the ruined hole in the wall, Lian Xue stood, battered but unbroken.

Her green hanfu was torn and dust-streaked, her hair disheveled from the earlier clash. But none of that dulled the murderous glint in her eyes.

She moved, shifting into a stance—

Shing!

A golden Qi sword shot forward, stopping just inches from her forehead—a silent warning, its edge humming with restrained lethality.

"Lian Xue, finish that stance and—"

Crack!

Before Fang Lee could finish, a fiery palm strike erupted from her hands.

A surge of blazing orange Qi blasted forward—searing, unrelenting.

It collided with his sword in a violent explosion of light.

Shatter!

The golden blade, a construct of his will and power, fractured into countless embers—dispersed like ashes in the wind.

Fang Lee's gaze sharpened, a flicker of surprise flashing through his usually calm demeanor.

That sword—his Qi-forged weapon—was no ordinary construct. In this dream one of these Qi swords could withstand a hundred strikes from a mid-stage Qi Refinement cultivator. Yet Lian Xue had shattered it in a single blow.

A fierce glint burned in her eyes as she roared her next technique.

"Flickering Candle Palm!"

The flame-like glow around her hands trembled—unstable, volatile—before igniting into a surging inferno.

She lunged.

Her first strike tore through the air, aiming for his shoulder.

The second, a sharp thrust, targeted his chest.

The third—a finishing blow—raced toward his chin.

Fang Lee's body moved on instinct, weaving through the flurry of attacks, his movements fluid yet razor-sharp.

!!

But then—impact.

The moment her palm connected, an unbearable force exploded through his bones.

His muscles screamed in agony as a searing shockwave of Fire Qi burrowed into his flesh, twisting through his meridians like a raging wildfire.

Lian Xue's lips curled into a victorious smile at the sight of Fang Lee's pained expression. Without hesitation, she surged forward, her hands wreathed in flickering flames, each strike fueled by unrelenting fury—

Swish! Swish!

But she never got the chance.

"White Crane's Counter."

Fang Lee moved like a shadow, flowing effortlessly between her attacks.

His fingers flicked out with pinpoint accuracy, striking the delicate tendons in her wrists.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The momentum of her assault crumbled.

Lian Xue's eyes widened.

He wasn't dodging. He wasn't blocking.

He was controlling her.

Her fourth, fifth, sixth, and even seventh strike—all twisted away, their force turned back upon her with effortless precision. Yet she did not falter.

Every counter, every redirection should have shaken her resolve, but instead, she pressed on—faster, fiercer, more relentless.

Her breath came sharp, her qi roaring like a wildfire, but Fang Lee met each blow with the same unshakable ease, his defenses as fluid as flowing water.

And still—she refused to stop.

Gritting her teeth, she pressed forward, her relentless barrage intensifying.

And then—

Burning.

A sudden, searing agony erupted across Fang Lee's skin, the lingering heat gnawing into his flesh like embers burrowing into dry wood.

The spot where her attack had landed throbbed, blistered, and then—ignited.

It wasn't just pain.

It was her fire qi—ravenous, insidious—still coursing through him, refusing to fade.

The lingering energy seeped into his flesh, heat coiling beneath his skin, scorching him from within. The faint scent of charred flesh filled the air.

For the first time in their exchange, Fang Lee's smirk deepened.

"Aren't you a fan of cheap tricks?" he mused, his tone laced with amusement as he continued to parry her strikes with calculated ease.

Lian Xue's frustration flared—but so did her flames.

"Fang Lee!!"

Lian Xue's voice rang out like a battle cry, her fury igniting with every strike. Flames surged around her palms, each blow carrying the force of her rage. Yet, what enraged her even more was the sight of the golden qi swords floating behind him—untouched, barely used.

He's still holding back.

Her teeth clenched, her strikes became wilder, faster, fueled by the searing belief that Fang Lee wasn't even fighting her seriously.

But the truth was different.

Fang Lee hadn't drawn his qi swords—not out of arrogance, or out of disdain—but because she had forced him into close-quarters combat.

The moment she bridged the distance, his ability to wield them effectively was restricted. Sword techniques thrived on fluid movement and control over space. But here?

Here, they were locked in a brutal exchange of palm strikes, counters, and raw physicality.

While in actually he hadn't drawn his Qi swords—not because he belittled her but because she had closed the distance, forcing him into close-quarters combat

The moment she bridged the distance, his ability to wield them effectively was restricted. Sword techniques thrived on fluid movement and control over space. But here?

Here, they were locked in a brutal exchange of palm strikes, counters, and raw physicality.

And yet—he was still calm.

Lian Xue's frustration burned even hotter. She wanted him to struggle. She wanted him to bleed. But Fang Lee remained unreadable, his smirk unwavering, as if indulging her rage was nothing more than a passing amusement.

Lian Xue's breath came sharp and fast, her chest rising with barely contained fury. The embers of her rage burned hotter, and in that instant, she abandoned finesse for raw power.

Her fingers curled into a tight fist, nails digging into her palm as a surge of fire-attributed qi flooded her limbs.

The lanterns trembled.

Their warm glow flickered wildly, as if bowing to the inferno she was about to unleash.

Then—

Boom!

Flames roared to life around Lian Xue's knuckles, twisting and writhing like a living beast, ravenous and untamed. The air around her shimmered, bending under the sheer intensity of her fire-attributed qi, heat waves distorting the space between them.

"Rising Ember Fist!"

Her voice rang out, sharp and furious, crackling with the same fire that engulfed her strike.

The instant she launched forward, her blazing fist tore through the air like a meteor, leaving a scorching wake in its path.

Hiss—

Fang Lee's instincts kicked in. His body moved before thought, his palm rising to intercept.

The moment their flesh met, agony erupted through him. A searing pain lanced through his palm, his skin hissing as it burned on contact. The acrid stench of charred flesh curled into the air, but Fang Lee clenched his teeth, forcing himself to endure. His nerves screamed, but he refused to yield.

Tch.

His jaw tightened, frustration simmering beneath the pain—but before he could curse his own carelessness—

Boom!

Another blazing strike hurtled toward him, the force behind it enough to shatter stone.

This time, three floating qi swords materialized in an instant, their ethereal edges gleaming as they shot forward to intercept.

Shatter!

Her fist tore through them like brittle glass, their energy fracturing and scattering in the superheated air.

Fang Lee barely twisted away in time, his body moving on instinct. He retreated, stepping backwards through the gaping hole in the ruined wall—

But she was already there.

A third strike—this one aimed straight for his skull.

The air howled as her flaming fist tore through it, a streak of molten fury closing in with lethal precision.

Fang Lee's instincts roared to life. His hand lashed out, catching her wrist mid-air in an iron grip.

And then—

Boom!

His fist drove into her jaw like a sledgehammer.

Her head snapped back, the impact rattling through her entire frame. But before she could recover, he twisted her arm, his stance shifting fluidly. Muscles coiled, balance perfect—he was ready to drive her into the ground with bone-shattering force.

But then—

Whoosh!

Lian Xue's body ignited.

Flames erupted outward, her fire qi surging beyond control. The heat was instant, overwhelming. Her sleeves disintegrated in an instant, revealing raw, seared flesh beneath—but it was Fang Lee who bore the true agony.

Fire lashed at his back and hands, the scorching heat sinking deep into his skin, peeling away layers of flesh.

Argh!

Pain flooded his nerves, white-hot and relentless, yet his grip refused to break. His fingers tightened like a vice around her wrist, even as the flames licked hungrily at his flesh, eager to consume him whole.

"Ironwood Body!"

A surge of qi erupted within him, flooding his limbs, reinforcing his bones and muscles like tempered steel. His skin hardened, the searing agony dulling to a distant throb—but his grip remained unyielding.

With a final, forceful twist—

Crash!

Lian Xue's body crashed into the wooden floor with a resounding crack, the force of the impact sending tremors through the room. The splintering boards groaned beneath her as dust and embers swirled in the air.

"Ah—!"

A sharp gasp tore from her lips, raw and breathless.

She trembled, her chest rising and falling in ragged, uneven breaths. The flames that had once roared around her now sputtered and flickered weakly, their intensity fading as her qi wavered, on the verge of collapse.

Fang Lee exhaled sharply, stepping forward. His gaze remained cold and unwavering as he pressed his foot against her chest, pinning her to the ground with unyielding force.

Swiss!

One of his six remaining qi swords hovered at his side, its golden glow slicing through the dim room, casting jagged shadows that danced across the walls. The flickering light illuminated Lian Xue's face—her furious, tear-streaked expression burning with defiance.

She glared up at him, her breath ragged, flames still flickering weakly around her trembling form. Even in defeat, her eyes held nothing but fire.

"Look at where your foolishness has gotten you," Fang Lee said coldly, his gaze unwavering. His voice was edged with disdain, each word striking like a blade.

"Tell me, did you feel hurt because I slept with another woman? If so, then you are even less worthy of being my future wife."

His tone was sharp, merciless.

"Meng—that maid meant nothing to me. Though I may have used her, it was merely a result of my sudden Qi deviation, nothing more than a fleeting moment of weakness."

As he spoke, his hovering Qi sword, once poised dangerously close to Lian Xue's head, drifted away, its golden glow dimming slightly.

"Do with that knowledge as you wish," Fang Lee said, his voice devoid of emotion, as lies slipped effortlessly from his lips, smooth as silk yet sharp as a dagger.

With deliberate slowness, he lifted his foot from Lian Xue's chest, granting her a moment to breathe—but not a shred of dignity.

He turned, his sharp gaze sweeping over the room, surveying the destruction left in the wake of their battle. Scorch marks marred the walls, shattered wood lay strewn across the floor, and the very air still crackled with residual heat. The scent of burnt flesh and splintered timber lingered, the only evidence of the brutal exchange that had just taken place.

Then he noticed it—a jagged hole torn through the far wall. His eyes narrowed.

Meng had escaped.

At some point during his fight with Lian Xue, the maid had seized her chance—tearing through the far wall and vanishing into the night. A bold move, but not unexpected.

Hmm?

Fang Lee exhaled, tilting his head slightly.

"What should I do now?" he mused, a flicker of boredom creeping in as the adrenaline of battle faded. His gaze drifted back to Lian Xue, who was slowly pushing herself up, her breath still ragged.

Her robes—scorched and tattered—clung to her frame, parts of the fabric singed away to reveal glimpses of bare, sweat-slicked skin beneath.

A smirk curled at the corner of his lips.

"It seems…" he murmured, stretching lazily, "that I'm having another wave of Qi deviation. And thanks to you, Meng has already run away~"

Despite the lingering pain from his burns, his once-limp desire now stood proudly, betraying a very different kind of hunger.