A Song for The Ages

The centipede lunged again.

Feiyin moved, not with brute force, but with precision. His body twisted, his feet sliding over the uneven stone floor as he barely avoided the bladed appendages that struck where he had stood moments before. His breathing remained steady, his heartbeat calm, but his mind worked furiously.

His body was resilient. His muscles, tendons, bones, marrow, and blood had been tempered to perfection, making him far more durable than any ordinary cultivator. He didn't tire easily, and his injuries, while accumulating, weren't life-threatening. But the centipede wasn't tiring either.

And he wasn't winning.

The beast's massive, segmented body coiled and shifted through the cavern with terrifying agility. Even when he dodged, it always followed, relentless and unyielding. It had too many limbs, too many blades, too much reach. He couldn't overpower it. He couldn't outlast it.

So I need to outthink it.

Feiyin exhaled sharply, his mind shifting from instinctual combat to careful strategy. He had been attacking from the outside, relying on brute force, but this thing's exoskeleton was too thick. His strikes, while cracking its carapace, weren't dealing any lasting damage.

He needed another way.

His thoughts flickered to his training with his mother, soft overcoming hard, striking not the surface, but what lay within.

He steeled his resolve.

This was his chance.

As the centipede lunged again, Feiyin didn't retreat.

He moved in.

The creature's massive head loomed over him, mandibles snapping. Feiyin slid low, feeling the rush of air as the jaws clamped shut just above his head. Then, before it could recoil, he struck.

His palm met its hardened underbelly, but this time, he didn't focus on external force.

Instead, he sent his inner strength inward.

A ripple passed through his body, a shift from brute strength to something softer, deeper. He focused his intent, guiding his inner strength not into a hard impact, but a wave of energy that sank into the beast.

The centipede shrieked.

Its massive body spasmed as the force traveled inside, bypassing its tough exterior to reach its softer internal organs. It recoiled violently, slamming its bladed limbs against the cavern floor in agitation.

Feiyin's eyes flashed.

It worked.

But only barely.

The centipede was still moving, still attacking. The damage wasn't enough to cripple it. He had disrupted it, nothing more.

Still, this was his best chance.

He moved again, weaving between its thrashing legs. His movements were smoother now, refined. He no longer tried to clash with its brute force head-on. Instead, he let its movements flow past him, striking only when he saw an opening.

Another palm strike. Another pulse of soft inner strength.

The centipede screeched, its body twisting as internal damage built up. Its movements became more erratic.

Good.

But it wasn't enough. Not yet.

Feiyin's mind raced.

His strikes were working, but they weren't decisive. He was injuring it, but not bringing it down. The beast was massive, too large for his current attacks to reach deep enough in a single blow. He needed something more.

His thoughts flashed back to the way he had once struggled to synchronize his five elements in training, the way he had learned to harmonize his organs like a melody.

Harmony.

His eyes sharpened.

If a single pulse of soft inner strength wasn't enough…

What if he layered them?

Instead of striking once and letting the force dissipate, what if he stacked the internal damage, wave after wave, building upon itself like a cascading effect?

He barely had time to think further before the centipede lunged again.

Feiyin didn't hesitate.

He met the strike, his palm pressing into its carapace once more. But this time, instead of letting the energy dissipate, he controlled it, held it back, allowed it to build.

Then, before the first wave of soft inner strength could fully fade, he struck again.

And again.

And again.

A sequence of carefully timed internal strikes, each layering atop the last.

The centipede let out a piercing shriek, its body convulsing wildly.

Feiyin stumbled back, chest rising and falling, sweat trailing down his temple. His arms ached from the precise control required, but he could see the difference.

The centipede wasn't just thrashing in anger now.

It was reeling.

But it wasn't dead yet.

Feiyin clenched his fists.

He had a way forward now.

He just needed to finish it.

Feiyin steadied his breath, feeling the ache in his arms, the sharp sting of small cuts littering his skin. His inner strength had been effective, but something told him that there was still room for improvement. The centipede was staggering, but it wasn't down yet, its body thrashing in pain, yet refusing to fall.

The damage is working, but it's not enough.

The layering of soft inner strength was powerful, yet it still relied on repeated effort to accumulate. Each strike built on the previous one, but they weren't feeding into each other as much as they could.

Feiyin narrowed his eyes.

I'm just stacking my strikes, but what if I synchronize them instead?

An image flickered in his mind, the way a perfectly timed pluck of a zither string could resonate through an entire instrument, amplifying its sound. If his inner strength could resonate inside the centipede's body instead of merely pressing against it, the effect wouldn't just be additive, it would be multiplicative.

I need to strike at the right moment, when the last pulse hasn't faded yet, but is still reverberating.

His oscillation sense flickered to life.

He focused, not just on striking, but on timing.

He observed the echoes of his previous strikes, watching the lingering tremors within the centipede's form. He could see where the force had settled, where the energy still hummed. If he could strike in harmony with those waves, amplifying them instead of disrupting them, the force would spread like a crescendo.

The centipede let out another screech, its body rearing back, preparing to lash out again.

Feiyin moved.

His first strike landed, soft inner strength pressing inward, sinking into the centipede's body.

He waited, watching the pulse spread.

Then, just as the resonance began to wane, he struck again.

And again.

His movements grew sharper, more precise. The centipede's body convulsed wildly, as if its insides were being shaken apart.

It's working!

The layered force wasn't just accumulating anymore. It was compounding, the reverberations building upon themselves, turning his precise strikes into a force far greater than the sum of its parts.

Feiyin's heart pounded, his senses sharpening as he refined the technique, each strike weaving seamlessly into the last, forming an invisible wave that tore into the centipede from the inside.

The beast screeched in agony, its movements growing more erratic.

He had almost won.

Feiyin shifted, preparing the final blow.

His palm shot forward, inner strength surging through his limbs. He struck the centipede's already weakened underbelly, perfectly synchronizing with the oscillations still rippling through its body.

The effect was instantaneous. A violent tremor exploded from within the centipede as the force cascaded through it, rattling its insides with such force that its carapace bulged from the pressure.

Then,

CRACK!

A sharp, sickening snap echoed through the cavern. The centipede froze.

For a brief, agonizing moment, it remained motionless, its massive body twitching sporadically.

Then, slowly, it began to collapse, its legs spasming before falling limp.

Feiyin exhaled sharply, his arms trembling.

It's over…

A sudden movement.

His instincts screamed,

But it was too late.

In its final moment, the centipede lashed out in a desperate, last strike. Feiyin barely had time to react as one of its bladed appendages slashed across his torso. A searing pain tore through him.

His body jerked backward, staggering as blood spilled from the deep gash carved across his chest. He barely managed to keep himself upright before he stumbled, hitting the rough cavern floor.

The centipede finally fell still. But Feiyin…

Feiyin lay there, breath ragged, body pulsing with pain. He had won. And yet, he had lowered his guard too soon.

The realization struck him harder than the wound itself.

I got careless…

His fingers clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. He should have expected a final struggle. He should have been prepared. His father had warned him,

"Never assume an enemy is dead until you've severed the head yourself."

He swallowed, the metallic taste of blood thick on his tongue. This lesson… had been a costly one. But he would never make the same mistake again.

As he lay there, staring up at the cavern ceiling, his body aching, his wound still bleeding,

He smirked. Because despite everything, despite the exhaustion, the pain, the injury, he had done it. He had figured it out.

And that alone made it worth it. With that final thought, his consciousness wavered,

And he slipped into darkness.