Chapter 32
The first construct struck without warning.
It did not roar or hesitate. Its blade flashed out in a clean, efficient arc aimed at Shenping's throat, movement precise enough to make the attack feel inevitable.
Shenping barely avoided it.
Steel grazed his skin, heat blooming along his neck as he twisted away, boots skidding across uneven stone. His heart slammed violently in his chest.
Too fast.
Without foresight, without slowed moments, the world moved brutally honestly. Every mistake arrived immediately. Every hesitation had weight.
Another construct lunged.
Shenping dropped low, rolling beneath the strike as a second blade carved sparks from the stone where his head had been a breath earlier. He came up with a grunt, elbow driving into the construct's ribs.
The impact jolted his arm.
The thing did not react.
It turned smoothly, emotionless, sword already rising again.
Shenping cursed and retreated.
"Stop running," Gu Tianxu's voice echoed calmly. "You are wasting space."
"Easy for you to say," Shenping snarled, ducking as a spear whistled past his ear.
The terrain betrayed him. Raised stone caught his heel and he stumbled, momentum carrying him forward. A shadow loomed overhead.
Death arrived silently.
Steel descended.
Shenping reacted without thought.
He grabbed the blade with both hands.
The edge sliced deep into his palms. Blood spilled instantly, slick and hot. Pain exploded through his nerves, white and overwhelming.
The construct pulled.
Shenping roared and pulled back harder.
The blade snapped.
The construct froze for half a heartbeat—confusion flickering through its otherwise perfect execution. Shenping surged forward, slamming his forehead into its face.
Stone cracked.
The construct collapsed.
Shenping staggered back, gasping, blood dripping onto the floor. His hands shook violently, pain screaming through torn flesh.
He laughed once, breathless and wild. "So that's how it is."
Another construct charged.
Then another.
They came in waves, coordinating silently, herding him toward narrower ground. Shenping backed toward a cluster of pillars, mind racing.
No time tricks.
No cheats.
Only terrain.
He leapt sideways as a blade struck, then kicked hard against a pillar. Stone fractured, the column tilting just enough. When the next construct advanced, Shenping shoved the weakened pillar with everything he had.
It toppled.
Stone thundered down, crushing two constructs beneath its weight. Dust filled the air, choking and blinding.
Shenping used it.
He moved through the cloud, senses straining, listening to the scrape of metal on stone, the whisper of motion. A spear thrust blindly toward him.
He twisted, caught the shaft, yanked, and drove his knee up into the construct's core.
Something inside shattered.
The construct fell.
Shenping barely stayed upright.
His lungs burned. His muscles screamed. Blood slicked his hands and arms. This kind of fighting was ugly, inefficient, desperate.
Human.
Across the chamber, Mei Lian watched with her hands clenched tightly at her sides. Every strike made her flinch. She could not see the future anymore, but she could feel the cost of every movement, every choice.
"He's slowing," she whispered.
Li Wei nodded grimly. "He's learning mass. Momentum. Loss."
Another construct lunged low.
Shenping didn't dodge.
He stepped into it.
The blade punched into his side, biting deep. Pain nearly stole his vision. He grabbed the construct's head with one bloody hand and slammed it into the stone wall again and again until it stopped moving.
He staggered back, coughing, blood soaking his clothes.
Gu Tianxu raised his staff.
The remaining constructs froze instantly.
Shenping dropped to one knee, head bowed, breath coming in ragged pulls. Blood pooled beneath him, dark against the stone.
"Stand," Gu Tianxu said.
Shenping tried.
Failed.
Gu Tianxu stepped closer. "Stand."
Shenping growled and forced himself upright inch by inch, legs shaking violently. His vision blurred, but he remained standing.
Gu Tianxu studied him in silence.
"You chose damage over delay," the old master said finally. "You accepted injury to create certainty."
Shenping wiped blood from his mouth. "The future doesn't care how clean the fight is."
Gu Tianxu nodded slowly. "Correct."
He turned to Mei Lian. "What did you learn?"
She swallowed. "Pain doesn't make him weaker. It makes him honest."
Gu Tianxu's lips curved faintly. "Good."
He turned to Li Wei. "And you?"
Li Wei exhaled. "He stopped thinking like an exception. He fought like someone who can die."
Gu Tianxu struck the ground once.
The chamber shifted again, stone rearranging itself, wounds sealing as if the fight had never happened. Shenping's injuries burned briefly, then stabilized—not healed, but held.
"You will not recover fully," Gu Tianxu said. "Not yet."
Shenping nodded. "I don't deserve to."
A sudden chill ran through the chamber.
Mei Lian stiffened. "Something changed."
Gu Tianxu closed his eyes briefly. "Yes."
The cavern wall shimmered, revealing another vision.
A road winding through forested hills. A group of villagers walking in chains, guarded by figures wearing human faces. At the center of the group walked a small girl, dirt-streaked and silent.
Sang Sang.
Shenping's breath caught.
"They're moving her," he said.
"Yes," Gu Tianxu replied. "Toward a convergence site."
Li Wei frowned. "What's a convergence site?"
"A place where enough blood has been spilled that reality grows thin," Gu Tianxu said. "They intend to test extraction."
Mei Lian whispered, "They're going to tear her apart."
Shenping straightened despite the pain. "Then we intercept."
Gu Tianxu did not answer immediately.
Instead, he studied Shenping closely—his stance, his breathing, the way he balanced pain with intent.
"At last," Gu Tianxu said quietly, "you are heavy enough to matter."
He raised his staff.
"Prepare," he commanded. "Because when you move now—"
The image sharpened.
Metal shifted beneath skin. Villagers screamed.
Gu Tianxu's eyes hardened.
"—history will bleed for it."