Chapter 31: Spirit Projection

Lin Moyi skidded back, his boots leaving furrows in the ground. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the devastation around him. Jagged gusts of wind howled through the trees, their branches snapping and breaking under the force of his own spiritual energy. A pale white light flared from his staff, the glow almost too brilliant to look at as it carved through the choking haze of darkness that seeped from the earth.

Across the clearing, Jin Wu sneered, his form cloaked in shadows that writhed and twisted like living creatures. "What's wrong, old man?" His voice was taunting, laced with venom. "Do you really think you can buy time for those villagers? Holding back in a fight with me? The dreams of a fool."

Lin Moyi's laugh came low and steady. "Hold back?" He spat, tightening his grip on his staff. "You really think I'm the one holding back here, boy? No... I'm just no fool. The elders wouldn't send you out alone again, not after the way you ran last time. Someone's lurking nearby, aren't they?" He raised his arms, drawing in the wind, his cultivation base roaring to life within him.

Deep within his chest, his golden core began to tremble, and his meridians pulsed with the surge of energy flooding through them. The air around him grew thick and electric, snapping with tension. Behind him, an enormous, spectral eagle materialized, its keen eyes blazing, its talons razor-sharp and bathed in a silver light. Its wings spread wide, catching the wind as if preparing to dive into a hunt.

Jin Wu's face paled, his mocking grin disappearing. He had heard the whispers but didn't believe them—he'd heard rumors of Lin Moyi's Gale Wind Eagle projection, a spirit bloodline that few ever lived to tell of its appearance. "So the rumors were true," he muttered, more to himself than to Lin Moyi. "The Gale Wind Eagle projection of the Golden Core Stage, what a lucky bastard..."

"Careful, Jin Wu," Lin Moyi replied, his eyes cold. "You might just get what you asked for."

The words had barely left his mouth when he shifted his stance, and the eagle's talons glinted brighter, like knives catching moonlight. Jin Wu took an instinctive step back, clutching his sword defensively. He knew, deep down, he wasn't a match got the powered up Lin Moyi who had summoned a Spirit Projection. He hadn't even awakened his own spirit projection yet; challenging Lin Moyi now was little better than a death wish. Still, his pride flared, and he glared defiantly, shadows wrapping around him like armor.

BOOM!!!

Just then, a boom shook the clearing, sending rocks and debris flying everywhere. Lin Moyi turned swiftly, his wind scattering the smoke to reveal a figure cloaked in ragged black and red robes. Sickly and gaunt, the man's face twisted in a grotesque grin as he took a slow step forward. A dark, shadowy snake appeared at his back like a phantom in the night, its fangs gleaming, its hisses slicing through the air. This was no ordinary foe or ordinary Spirit projection; Lin Moyi knew him at once.

"Hang Cai," he said, the name leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. "Or should I call you Shadow Snake Hang?"

The man laughed, a sound cold and hollow. "Lin Moyi... It's been far too long. Still causing trouble, I see."

_________

Meanwhile, on the forest's edge, Lin Rou led the villagers through twisted paths toward Poor Man's Corner, their only hope for escape. The place loomed ahead, half-ruined buildings sprawled in a narrow canyon between two towering cliffs. Rumor had it a Golden Core cultivator ran the place, and Lin Rou could only pray the tales of his greed held true.

"Junior Lin Rou of the Lin Village is here with fellow villagers seeking assistance!" he called, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "We request safe passage through Poor Man's Corner. My father, Lin Moyi, will see to it that you're well compensated as soon as he's able."

For a tense moment, nothing but silence greeted him which sent a chill down his spine. Lin Rou glanced back at the villagers, seeing their wide, frightened eyes. He could hear the sounds of the battle rumbling through the forest. His heart pounded faster with each passing moment that went by, and he risked a look behind them, where dark-robed figures began to emerge from the trees. They'd slipped past Lin Moyi's defense and were heading straight for them.

"Squad A, battle formation! Prepare to engage the enemy!" Lin Rou commanded, his voice sharp as he unsheathed his blade. "Squad B, shield the villagers—defend with everything you've got!"

He felt the weight of their lives pressing down on him. If it had been just him, he would have fought to his last breath, killing as many as he could, but he couldn't risk all these lives. They'd counted on him to bring them safely through, and here they were, trapped between a rock and the shadowy church forces that grew closer with each passing second.

"Did we make the wrong choice?" he murmured, feeling his resolve waver as he turned back to the imposing iron gates of Poor Man's Corner. His pulse quickened, and he tightened his grip on his sword, wind beginning to coil around him like a gathering storm as he rotated go cultivation base, gathering the power of wind.

Just then, a voice, deep and resounding, echoed from beyond the gates. "You may pass freely. Poor Man's Corner requires no payment from any of you. But make no mistake—we will not involve ourselves in your conflict. We are neither allies of Lin Village nor enemies of the Northern Moon Village or the Shadow Church. Each to their own devices."

Relief flooded Lin Rou's heart as he watched the gates creaked open, revealing a narrow, shadowed path through Poor Man's Corner. "Thank you, Senior!" he called out, dipping his head in respect before turning back to the villagers. "Move quickly! Everyone, through the gates!"

The villagers surged forward, hurrying into the safety of the canyon. Inside a wagon at the center of the group, Jiang Feng lay hidden, his face drenched in sweat as he worked to steady his breathing. His body shook, fire spiritual energy coursing through him, burning and reshaping him from the inside out. He could feel the energy filling his lungs, then spilling over into his veins, igniting his blood, his muscles, and his very bones.

The sounds of the world outside faded in his mind. The clashing of steel, the shouting, the wind rushing past—the noise melted away, leaving him alone in his struggle. His breaths came in great, shuddering pulls as the spiritual heat continued to consume him, and he grit his teeth, focusing all his willpower on the pain. It was brutal, but it was also cleansing, pushing him closer and closer to the strength he would need to help protect the villagers.