Balance Keeper

The Gobi wind whipped sand into his eyes, stinging like shards of glass. Ye Ningzhou had barely stepped beyond Blackstone Town's borders when the clatter of hooves erupted behind him. A gravelly shout cut through the gale, cracking like a whip—Butcher Li's voice.

"That brat can't have gotten far! After him!"

Ye's heart sank as he quickened his pace. He'd known Li would find the general store eventually, but not this soon. His Phantom Steps left faint prints in the sand, yet the hoofbeats drew closer, accompanied by the shrill scrape of an axe dragging over stone—a death knell in rhythm.

He spun into a stand of stunted pines. The trees weren't tall, but their branches tangled thick enough to hide him. Ye fumbled for the black iron talisman brush, dipping it in the ink pouch at his waist to scrawl an "Anti-Slip Talisman" across his sole. The journal had promised: this rune would root him to stone, unshaken by gales or storms.

The ink had barely dried when Li's roar boomed outside the pines: "That old bastard Wang Cheng's got a tongue of steel! But when I get my hands on Ye Ningzhou, I'll flay him alive and stew his skin for the geezer's wine!"

Ye's nails dug into his palm. He could picture Wang Cheng now—the old man with the broken leg, probably using his own bloodied body to bar the cellar door.

"Boss! Footprints here!" a cultivator yelled.

Li's footsteps thundered closer, reeking of fresh blood. "Search! Tear this grove apart if you have to!" The scrape of metal stopped at the pines' edge, followed by the crisp crack of splintering wood—the fat man was hacking a path with his axe, brute as a wild boar.

Ye held his breath, sinking spiritual energy into his dantian. The Mountain-Crushing Fist coiled within him, a dune teetering on collapse, waiting for its moment. He watched Li's silhouette materialize: the man's bare torso jiggled with each breath, his axe glinting, its blade crusted with dark red—likely Wang Cheng's blood.

"There!" a cultivator shouted, pointing to Ye's hiding spot.

Li grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. "Little bastard, nowhere left to run!" He swung the axe, wind howling as it chop down. Pine needles erupted in a storm; the ground split in a deep gash.

Ye twisted sideways, his Phantom Steps bouncing off a pine bough to hurl him backward. The Anti-Slip Talisman flickered on his sole, anchoring him to the slick needles like a boulder. "Come on then!" he snarled, lunging forward—right hand gripping the iron brush, left fist clenched, spiritual energy roaring through his meridians.

Li's axe sweep away,three hundred catties of brute force aimed to split Ye in two. But Ye moved like wind, darting between the blade's arcs—left, right, always slipping free by a hair's breadth.

"Cowardly rat!" Li roared, swinging faster. He never touched so much as Ye's sleeve, and his breath grew ragged, sweat beading on his forehead from the exertion.

Ye waited. He watched Li's steps falter, noticed how his knees buckled slightly with each swing—the axe's weight working against him, a fatal flaw.

Now!

Ye dropped low, circling behind Li using the pines for cover. Li whirled, but the axe's momentum carried it too far, baring his chest. Ye's eyes flashed. He channeled every scrap of energy into his left fist, and the Mountain-Crushing Fist detonated!

"CRACK!"

The punch landed on Li's knee. No earth-shattering boom—just a sharp, sickening snap. Li shrieked, his left leg collapsing. He crashed to the ground, the axe flying from his grasp to slam into a pine, showering needles.

"My leg... my leg!" Butcher Li rolled on the ground, clutching his knee, his face as pale as paper, veins bulging on his forehead.

Ye Ningzhou walked up to him, the black iron talisman brush pressing against his throat. The coldness of the brush made Li shiver. He looked up at Ye Ningzhou, his eyes filled with venom and confusion: "You... you're a mortal-boned... how is this possible..."

"So what if I am?" Ye Ningzhou's voice was cold. "Can't a mortal bone kill scum like you?"

"Mortal bones dare to defy fate!" Li suddenly roared, as if venting a lifetime of prejudice. "Spiritual veins are the way of the strong! Trash like you, even if you kill me, will sooner or later be crushed by someone stronger!"

Ye Ningzhou said nothing, just tightened his grip on the brush. He thought of his parents' deaths, of Amu's boat, of Wang Cheng's broken leg. The Dao Seal on his chest burned fiercely, a surge of 戾气 rushing to his head—he drove the brush forward, piercing Li's throat.

Blood sprayed onto Ye Ningzhou's face, tasting of rust. Li's eyes stared wide, seemingly unable to comprehend until his last breath that he would fall to a mortal bone.

Ye Ningzhou panted, suddenly feeling a sharp pain in his right arm—he'd used too much force with that punch, dislocating his arm, the misaligned bone grinding painfully. Gritting his teeth, he pressed his left hand against his right arm and shoved hard. With a "crack", the dislocated arm popped back into place, the pain making his vision darken.

"Ningzhou..."

A faint call from Wang Cheng came from afar. Ye Ningzhou stumbled over, only to see Wang Cheng lying at the general store's entrance, his chest caved in, with countless broken ribs, blood froth constantly gushing from his mouth.

"Uncle Wang!" Ye Ningzhou rushed over, wanting to help him up, but Wang Cheng 按住 his hand.

"Leave me..." Wang Cheng's voice was as faint as a wisp of smoke. He took an iron ring from his arms and pressed it into Ye Ningzhou's hand, a blurred character "Shi" (Stone) carved on it. "Go to the Gobi... find Old Shi... he's a guardian of the Abyss Guardians... he can help you..."

"I'll take you with me! I can save you!" Ye Ningzhou's voice trembled.

Wang Cheng smiled, more blood froth bubbling at the corner of his mouth: "Silly boy... remember... the path of an Abyss Guardian... isn't forged by killing... it's walked..." His hand dropped limply, but his eyes looked toward the Gobi, as if seeing something.

Ye Ningzhou held Wang Cheng's gradually cold body, the Dao Seal on his chest burning as if it would set him on fire. He looked up at Blackstone Town, where there were still Demon-Slaying Alliance cultivators, Xiao Wanlei's talisman arrays, and countless people waiting for his revenge.

But now, he had to leave.

Ye Ningzhou picked up Butcher Li's giant axe. It weighed three hundred catties, yet he could lift it with one hand—late-stage Body Tempering Realm, eight hundred catties of strength, a power gained through blood and hatred. He put the iron ring on his hand, then dragged Wang Cheng's body into the general store, blocking the door with planks.

"Uncle Wang, I'll come back." He said to the plank door.

When he turned into the Gobi's sand and wind, Ye Ningzhou's right arm still ached faintly, the blood on his face having dried into a hard crust. He knew that Butcher Li's death was just the beginning; there were harder bones to gnaw, higher mountains to climb ahead.

The wind swept over the general store's broken plank door, making a whimpering sound. Ye Ningzhou took one last look at that door, then slung Butcher Li's giant axe over his shoulder. The iron handle of the axe still held residual warmth, as if retaining Li's hostility, pressing painfully against his shoulder, yet sharpening his focus—this mortal-grade giant axe would be his weapon from now on.

He didn't leave Blackstone Town's vicinity immediately, but circled around to the old locust tree outside the town. Uncle Zhang's son was still lying there, the twelve-year-old boy curled up in a pool of blood, his broken leg twisted at a grotesque angle. When he saw Ye Ningzhou, fear first flickered in his eyes, then a spark of light burst forth.

"Did... did you kill Butcher Li?" The boy's voice was hoarse.

Ye Ningzhou nodded, taking half a bag of dried jujubes from his arms and handing them over: "Can you walk? I'll take you to the oasis."

The boy bit into a dried jujube, tears suddenly streaming down: "My parents... they were killed by Butcher Li's men..."

Ye Ningzhou's fists tightened. He squatted down, examining the boy's leg injury—the bone was severely misaligned, but hadn't hit a vital point. "Bear with it." He said softly, placing his hands on the boy's broken leg and shoving hard.

"Ah——!" The boy screamed in pain, yet bit his lip and didn't make another sound.

Ye Ningzhou tore off a piece of his sleeve, splinting the boy's leg, then handed him his remaining water pouch: "Follow this road south, you'll reach the oasis in three days, there'll be caravans there that will take you away." He pointed to the distant sand dunes. "Don't look back, and don't tell anyone you saw me."

The boy clutched the water pouch, watching Ye Ningzhou's back as he shouldered the giant axe, suddenly shouting: "My name is Stone! When I grow up, I'll kill Demon-Slaying Alliance dogs too, just like you!"

Ye Ningzhou didn't look back, just waved his hand, his figure quickly vanishing into the sand and wind.

He knew that Blackstone Town's hatred wouldn't end with Butcher Li's death. Like the light in the boy's eyes, like the Dao Seal on his chest, it would only burn brighter amid the sand and wind.

After walking deep into the Gobi for about half a day, the pain in his right arm grew more intense. Though the dislocated bone had been reset, without timely treatment, every movement pulled at the muscles, making his forehead break out in a sweat. Ye Ningzhou leaned against a wind-eroded rock to rest, just about to circulate spiritual energy to ease the pain, when he heard the sound of horse hooves from afar—not just one group.

"Boss Li must have fallen! That brat is definitely nearby!" A cultivator's voice carried on the wind. "Leader Xiao said, bring him back alive if possible, dead if not!"

Ye Ningzhou's heart sank. It was the Demon-Slaying Alliance's backup team, and from the commotion, there were at least twenty of them. With his right arm inconvenience,a head-on fight wouldn't go well—he had to hide.

He dragged the giant axe into a crevice in the wind-eroded rock. The crevice was narrow, barely allowing one person to squeeze through, hidden outside by dense seabuckthorn bushes, impossible to spot without a careful search. Ye Ningzhou had just hidden himself when the sound of horse hooves stopped outside the wind-eroded rock.

"Search! Search carefully! There are signs of a fight nearby!" shouted the leading cultivator.

Footsteps echoed outside the rock. Someone hacked through the seabuckthorn bushes with a saber; the blade scraped past Ye Ningzhou's nose, stinging sharply. He held his breath, his right hand silently closing around the battle-axe's handle—waiting, biding his time to deliver a fatal blow with his left hand the moment they drew near.

Just then, the Dao Seal on his chest suddenly flared with heat, hotter than ever before. Ye Ningzhou froze, then felt a strange pulse rippling from beyond the rock. It wasn't spiritual energy, yet it carried a chilling sense of oppression.

"Who's there?!" barked the cultivator outside.

Clangs of clashing weapons followed, then a scream. Through a gap in the seabuckthorn, Ye glimpsed a white figure darting among the Demon-Slaying Alliance cultivators, swift as lightning. Slender yet lethal, it flicked foxfire from its fingertips—flames blooming like lotuses, clinging to the cultivators and erupting into azure fire that reduced them to cinders in an instant.

"It's a demon!" a cultivator shrieked. "Signal Leader Xiao at once!"

The white figure chuckled, her voice clear as a silver bell. "Xiao Wanlei? He's barely holding on himself—do you think he'll come to your rescue?" As she spoke, the last cultivator was swallowed by foxfire, dissolving into ash.

Ye's grip on the axe tightened, his heart racing. This was his first encounter with a true demon cultivator, and her power was terrifying—at least mid Qi-Convergence Realm, leagues stronger than Butcher Li.

The white figure turned, her gaze locking onto the wind-eroded rock. A woman veiled in silk, with a pink fox insignia between her brows; nine tails swished faintly behind her, each glowing with spiritual light. Her eyes pierced the seabuckthorn, pinpointing his hiding spot.

"Come out, mortal," she said, her tone amused yet commanding. "Your blood stench carries for three miles."

Ye knew hiding was useless. He drew a breath, stepping from the crevice, the battle-axe braced before him. His left hand clutched the handle—his right arm ached too fiercely to lift, leaving him to rely on brute strength.

The woman studied him with interest, her gaze lingering on the Dao Seal fragment at his chest before sliding to the axe on his shoulder. "Butcher Li's axe. It's in your hands now."

"What's it to you?" Ye's voice was taut.

"Nothing," she laughed, a wisp of foxfire dancing in her palm. "Just curious—how does a mortal-boned cultivator dare kill Demon-Slaying Alliance men?" Her foxfire suddenly shot toward his chest, too fast to dodge.

Ye lurched sideways. The flame grazed his ribs, searing through his coarse shirt and leaving a blackened streak. He felt the Dao Seal burn, its warmth surging to blunt the fire's sting.

"Oh?" The woman arched a brow, surprise flickering in her eyes. "That trinket of yours is intriguing."

Ye said nothing, gripping the axe tighter. He knew he stood no chance against her—only hope she had no intent to kill.

"I'm Su Muyao," she said, snuffing the foxfire. "Of the Ten-Thousand Demons Association."

Ye stiffened. The association was the Western Regions' demon alliance, sworn enemies of the Demon-Slaying Alliance. By rights, they should be foes—but he distrusted her less than the alliance.

Su Muyao seemed to read his thoughts. "Relax. I have no taste for killing mortals." Her gaze flicked to his dislocated arm. "Hurt that bad, and you're still heading into the Gobi? Where do you think you're going?"

"The iron ring gives it away, doesn't it?" Ye nodded to the ring on his hand. "Looking for Old Shi."

"Wang Cheng's doing, I suppose." Su Muyao tossed him a jade vial. "Life Spring. Healed my clansmen once—this repays the debt."

Ye caught it, the vial still warm from her touch. He hesitated, then uncorked it. A crisp fragrance wafted out; the Dao Seal stirred again, as if resonating with its power.

"Afraid it's poisoned?" she teased.

Ye drank half, storing the rest. The spring water turned to cool warmth in his veins, easing his arm's pain instantly and smoothing his spiritual flow.

"Thank you," he muttered.

Su Muyao waved a hand, turning to leave. "Xiao Wanlei's marching on Red Willow Valley—says he'll raze Old Shi's smithy. Hurry if you want him alive." With that, she blurred into a white streak, vanishing into the sandstorm, leaving only a faint fox scent.

Ye stared after her, gripping the vial. Demons… they weren't what the alliance claimed.

He hurried toward Red Willow Valley, the axe feeling lighter now that his arm had mended. His Phantom Steps carried him swiftly over the sand, a blur in the wind.

The blood stench outside the wind-eroded rock was soon scattered by the gale, leaving only dark stains to be buried. No one would know of the brief clash here—nor guess how this meeting between a mortal-boned youth and a demon Young Master would roil the realms later.

Red Willow Valley's wind smelled of vegetation, a stark contrast to the Gobi's sand. At the valley mouth, Ye found rows of red willows, their tassels hanging like curtains, hiding what lay beyond. He slowed, gripping the axe; the iron ring on his palm tingled—Old Shi's smithy must be close.

Metal clangs drifted on the wind, mixed with raucous cursing. Ye's heart sank. He quickened past the willows, and what he saw made his pupils contract.

Before a rough smithy, a dozen Demon-Slaying Alliance cultivators surrounded a stocky old man. Bare-chested, his skin dark as iron, he had only one arm—his right hand wielded a hammer, fending off their attacks. Young apprentices lay motionless at his feet.

It was Old Shi.

"Old bastard! Hand over the demons you're hiding!" snarled the lead cultivator, slashing at Old Shi's head with a long sword.

Old Shi dropped low, sweeping his hammer to knock the blade aside. The impact sent him reeling, blood trickling from his corners of the mouth. "Bastards! Frame us again, will you?!" he roared, slamming the hammer down. Sparks flew. "My smithy has only mortal iron—no demons!"

Ye recognized the leader: Xiao Wanlei's deputy, early Qi-Convergence Realm—far deadlier than Butcher Li. He acted without hesitation, shouldering the axe and using his Phantom Steps to circle behind, hidden by willow fronds.

"Leader Xiao says—no Ye Ningzhou, we take your head instead!" The deputy's blade gashed Old Shi's back, staining his dark skin red.

Old Shi grunted, swinging his hammer harder at the deputy's knee. "Try it, you dog!"

That was Ye's cue.

He leaped down from the red willow, his giant axe slicing through the air toward the deputy's neck. The deputy, sensing danger, spun around, crossing his saber to block—but the brute force of the axe sent the saber flying from his grasp. He stared at Ye Ningzhou in fright,disbelief flooding his eyes: "You… you're not dead?"

"Thanks to you, I'm alive and well," Ye Ningzhou sneered, swinging the axe sideways.

The deputy hurry ly raised his arm to defend. There was a crisp "crack"—his arm snapped. He screamed and staggered back, but Ye Ningzhou pursued, splitting his chest with a single blow. He dropped dead instantly.

It all happened in the blink of an eye, leaving the surrounding Demon-Slaying Alliance cultivators frozen in shock.

"It's Ye Ningzhou!" someone finally shouted, drawing their swords and charging.

Ye Ningzhou whirled the giant axe like a wheel, hacking left and right. He channeled the momentum of the Mountain-Crushing Fist into his axe work—each strike, backed by eight hundred catties of force, shattered weapons and broke bones. The anti-slip talisman on his sole had long since faded, but using the red willows for cover, he unleashed his Phantom Steps to their full potential, darting through the cultivators as if they were no more than shadows.

Old Shi gaped, then joined the fray with his hammer. The old man and the youth, one with a hammer, the other with an axe, routed more than a dozen Demon-Slaying Alliance cultivators.

By the time a cup of tea might have cooled, the last cultivator fell to Ye Ningzhou's axe, his head severed. Silence settled over Red Willow Valley, broken only by their heavy breathing and the rustle of willow leaves in the wind.

Old Shi tossed aside his hammer and collapsed onto the ground, eyeing Ye Ningzhou with a complex gaze. "That old rascal Wang Cheng wasn't lying. There's something uncanny about your mortal bones."

Ye Ningzhou sheathed his axe and knelt beside Old Shi. Seeing the deep, bone-exposing gash on his back, he quickly took out the Spring of Life Su Muyao had given him. "Use this."

Old Shi took the jade vial, gulped down most of its contents, and a cooling sensation immediately soothed his wound, easing the pain. "So you're Ye Ningzhou?" He studied the fragment of the Dao Seal on Ye's chest. "That mark… you're truly of the Abyss Guardians' bloodline."

Ye Ningzhou nodded, recounting Wang Cheng's death and Butcher Li's pursuit.

Old Shi listened in silence, then suddenly punched the ground. "That dog Xiao Wanlei! He cost me half an arm back then, and now he's out for total annihilation!" He stood, limping toward the smithy. "Come inside. I have something to show you."

The smithy was cluttered with iron blocks and weapons, and embers still glowed in the hearth. Old Shi lifted a stone slab near the fire, revealing a hidden compartment containing a tattered booklet titled The Art of Tempering Mortal Iron into Spirit Weapons.

"This is a skill I learned from the Abyss Guardians," Old Shi said, handing him the booklet. "It can refine mortal iron into talisman weapons. Your axe has good material—I'll temper it for you, as a favor to Wang Cheng."

Ye Ningzhou ran his fingers over the yellowed pages, which featured intricate tempering patterns annotated with instructions for controlling heat and channeling spiritual energy. "Thank you, Uncle Shi."

"Don't thank me yet," Old Shi said, fixing him with a stare. "Tempering a talisman weapon requires your blood and the power of the Dao Seal. Once done, the axe will bind to you—no one else can wield it."

Without hesitation, Ye Ningzhou picked up a shard of porcelain, sliced his finger, and let the blood drip onto the axe. The blood seeped into the iron, glowing faintly red. The Dao Seal on his chest burned, and a warm current flowed down his arm into the axe.

Old Shi's eyes lit up. "It will work!" He stoked the hearth, dropping the axe into the furnace, then added fragments of Spirit Void Stone—treasures he'd scavenged from Broken Boundary Cliff years ago and hoarded.

The fire roared to life, azure flames lapping at the axe, purging its bloodstains and epidemic pathogenic factors. Old Shi swung his hammer, striking precise blows at the nodes of the tempering patterns. Sparks flew, casting light on his truncated arm—a scene unexpectedly tinged with tragic grandeur.

Ye Ningzhou watched as the axe transformed in the flames. Its blade sharpened, and faint runes—Demon-Breaking Glyphs, as described in The Art of Tempering Mortal Iron—emerged, capable of repelling evil spirits and demonic energy.

After what felt like hours, Old Shi halted the quenching. He pulled the axe from the water, its surface now a dark gold, the runes pulsing with light as if alive.

"It's done," Old Shi said, handing it over. "This axe can now hold your spiritual energy and amplify the Mountain-Crushing Fist. It's a fine talisman weapon."

Ye Ningzhou took the axe, feeling it grow lighter yet heavier—lighter in weight, heavier with purpose. He channeled spiritual energy into it; the Demon-Breaking Glyphs blazed with golden light.

"Xiao Wanlei won't give up," Old Shi wiped sweat from his brow. "He'll fetch reinforcements. You must leave Red Willow Valley at once." He pulled out a map. "Head south. Beyond the Gobi lies Ten-Thousand Wood Ridge, where the Ten-Thousand Demons Association holds sway. Xiao Wanlei won't dare venture there lightly."

Ye Ningzhou took the map, then retrieved The Abyss Guardian's Journal, pointing to a fragment of a talisman array. "Uncle Shi, do you recognize these runes?"

Old Shi frowned at the page. "This is from the Quicksand Mystic Realm. It opens once every hundred years, and it holds the other half of the Dao Seal fragment. It'll open in three months—Xiao Wanlei will surely race to claim it."

Ye Ningzhou's heart skipped a beat. The other half of the Dao Seal?

"If you claim that fragment, the Dao Seal's power will awaken most," Old Shi clapped his shoulder. "But beware—the Marauder Alliance will be there too."

Ye Ningzhou gripped the axe, glancing at his chest. The path ahead sharpened: find the other fragment, grow stronger, then return to avenge the dead.

As he left Red Willow Valley, Old Shi pressed a black iron dagger into his hand. "For self-defense. It's been tempered." He stood at the valley entrance, watching Ye vanish into the sandstorm, clutching a wine jar Wang Cheng had given him years ago. "Old friend, you picked well."

Ye Ningzhou trekked through the Gobi's heart, the tempered axe slung over his shoulder. Sunlight glinted off its runes, scattering golden sparks. His right arm had healed, and his spiritual energy flowed smoothly—late-stage Body Tempering Realm, eight hundred catties of force, plus this mortal talisman weapon. He was ready for stronger foes.

The sandstorm raged on, but it could not dim the fire in his eyes.

For he knew he was drawing closer to the truth—and to revenge.