"Mere mortal iron, daring to block my Immortal Sect?"
The green-robed cultivator flicked a finger.
A bolt of azure energy pierced through Father's heart-guarding bronze mirror.
Splat!
A mist of blood exploded from Father's chest. He flew backward like a broken sack, smashing the ancestral plaque of the main hall to pieces.
"Father!"
Dao Yan's eyes burned with rage.
The green-robed cultivator, an outer deacon of the Xuan Tian Sect named Li Qingxuan, now had one foot planted on the family's manuscript, the Heavenly Works Manuscript. His gaze was as contemptuous as if he were looking at ants.
"This ore mountain, the Xuan Tian Sect claims it. You artisans can either scram or die."
"The techniques in there..." Dao Yan's teeth ground together.
Li Qingxuan laughed, his voice dripping with mockery.
"Useless trinkets. Mortal parlor tricks. Before true immortal arts, they are utterly worthless!"
With a grind of his foot, the manuscript that held the life's work of generations of his family turned instantly to ash.
"NO!"
Rage flooded Dao Yan's heart. His mind buzzed, as if something inside had shattered.
Countless fragmented images, blueprints too complex to comprehend, surged into his mind like a bursting dam!
[Analyzing energy flow pathways...]
[Constructing structural mechanics model...]
[Viable materials detected: Cold Iron hairpin, violet copper pipe, shattered bronze mirror fragments...]
"Get your brother and sister and run!" Father roared with his last ounce of strength.
Dao Yan shuddered, snapping back to reality.
He scooped up his stunned siblings and charged into the scrapyard behind the house.
Behind them, the disciples of the Xuan Tian Sect gave chase, their faces twisted in cruel smiles.
"Running? Where can a little bug run to?"
A dead end!
Dao Yan hid behind a pile of rusted metal, yet his mind was clearer than ever before.
A complete blueprint lit up in his mind.
[Miniature Mechanical Crossbow]!
He didn't hesitate for a second. His hands became a blur.
His mother's Cold Iron hairpin was instantly bent, becoming the bow's arms. His father's violet copper pipe was disassembled, forming the frame. A few fragments of the shattered bronze mirror were sharpened into deadly "Yuan Qi needles" with astonishing speed.
His fingers danced.
Every movement was as precise as if rehearsed a thousand times.
Click.
A faint, almost inaudible sound.
A palm-sized, ugly contraption took shape in his hand.
It lay quietly in Dao Yan's palm, a seemingly lifeless object.
But with his [Profound Analysis] talent, Dao Yan could clearly 'see' the thin Yuan Qi in the air being slowly drawn into the small device by its wondrous structure, stored within its frame.
"Found you, little bastard!"
A Xuan Tian Sect disciple approached with a savage grin, his longsword drawn, its blade shimmering with a faint green light.
He glanced at the ridiculous "toy" in Dao Yan's hand, his eyes full of disdain.
Dao Yan slowly raised his hand, aiming the ugly contraption at him.
"Trying to tickle me with that pile of scrap?" the disciple sneered.
Dao Yan's eyes were ice-cold. He uttered not a single word.
He pulled the trigger.
No sound. No flash of light.
A tiny object, almost invisible to the naked eye, shot out instantly.
Pfft!
The mocking expression on the pursuing disciple's face froze.
He looked down in disbelief at the tiny, bleeding hole in his chest. His protective Yuan Qi had been as useless as paper, offering no resistance at all.
His life force was rapidly draining from that small hole.
"What... what is this..."
He collapsed with a thud, eyes wide with shock, dead.
Dao Yan expressionlessly lowered his hand, his cold gaze sweeping past the scrapyard toward the distant, cloud-piercing mountain gate of the Xuan Tian Sect.
He looked down at the deadly weapon in his palm, forged from "useless trinkets" and "mortal iron," his killing intent surging.
"This is only the beginning."
In his mind, a far larger, far more complex blueprint slowly began to unfold.