The village square trembled with each strike. Peng Cheng's fists were like iron, his movements fast despite the wounds and blood seeping from his bandages. Every blow he threw sent shockwaves through the air, scattering dust and cracking the ground.
Lin Ziao stumbled backward, gasping for breath. His arms ached from blocking, his legs shook from the impact. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep up.
He's too strong, Lin Ziao thought desperately. Even injured, I can't win against him…
Another strike came, and Lin Ziao barely dodged, the commander's fist smashing into the ground where he had stood a heartbeat before. The earth split, leaving a shallow crater. Villagers shrieked and pulled further back, clutching each other in fear.
"Stop running!" Peng Cheng roared. His eyes blazed with fury, his voice heavy with command. "Face me like a man, or admit you are nothing but a cursed coward!"
Lin Ziao's chest heaved. Sweat poured down his temples. His fists trembled—not from anger, but from something stirring deep inside him. That pulse again. That second heartbeat. It grew louder and louder until it drowned out everything else.
He had felt it before, but now it was different. Stronger. Hungrier.
Peng Cheng lunged again, his palm open, ready to crush Lin Ziao's chest. Instinct took over. Lin Ziao raised his hands, and the warmth inside him exploded outward.
The ground beneath him cracked, wind swirling violently as unseen energy wrapped around his body. His vision blurred, then sharpened to crystal clarity. Every detail—the twitch of Peng Cheng's fingers, the dust swirling in the air, the villagers' widened eyes—slowed before him.
It was stage two.
The commander's strike met his defense, but instead of crumbling, Lin Ziao felt the force rebound. Peng Cheng staggered, surprise flashing across his face. For the first time, Lin Ziao had pushed him back.
But Lin Ziao wasn't relieved. He was terrified.
Because if this power broke free completely, he didn't know what it would do—to him, to the village, to everyone.
The villagers gasped in awe and horror. Whispers filled the air:
"He… he's glowing…"
"What is he?"
"Monster… it must be a monster's power."
Lin Ziao's breath caught in his throat. He looked at their faces—the fear, the suspicion, the anger. Even those who had once smiled at him now recoiled. Children hid behind their mothers. Elders shook their heads.
And in Peng Cheng's eyes, there was no compassion—only judgment.
"You can't control it," the commander spat. "And if you can't control it, you'll doom us all. I should finish this here!"
He raised his hand for another strike.
But Lin Ziao didn't wait.
"No!" he shouted, the energy bursting from his body in a wave of force. The air cracked like thunder, and before Peng Cheng could move, Lin Ziao spun and leapt away.
The world blurred around him. His body moved faster than ever before, every step carrying him across the village square like a streak of wind. He vaulted over fences, raced past startled villagers, and before long, he was sprinting into the outer fields.
"Lin Ziao!" Peng Cheng's furious roar echoed behind him. "Don't you dare run! You'll never escape me!"
But Lin Ziao didn't stop. He couldn't.
His heart pounded with both fear and strange exhilaration. The stage two power coursed through him, making him faster, stronger, untouchable. Yet it burned as well, like fire beneath his skin. It wasn't something he could hold onto forever.
By the time he reached the edge of the forest, his legs were trembling. He collapsed against a tree, gasping for breath.
Behind him, the village bells rang, calling the people together. The commander's voice carried faintly over the fields, ordering the villagers to prepare.
"They'll be hunting me now," Lin Ziao muttered bitterly. "I'm no longer one of them… I'm a fugitive."
His chest ached with more than exhaustion. It was the weight of being cast out, the pain of being seen as a monster when all he had ever wanted was peace.
Lin Ziao closed his eyes, feeling the last embers of the second stage fade from his veins. The strength slipped away, leaving him empty, alone, and shaking.
But deep inside, the power still lingered—locked, waiting.
And he knew one thing: sooner or later, he would have to master it.