The silence that stretched across the parade square was not empty; it was heavy, filled with the crushing weight of a thousand unsaid fears. It was the silence of a pendulum reaching the very top of its arc, holding its breath for a split second before the inevitable, violent swing downward.

  Lord Valen of the House of Crimson Fang stood at the epicenter of this silence. He felt as though the air had turned to solid lead, encasing him, pressing against his chest until his lungs burned for oxygen.

  He was stuck.

  To the thousands of watching and listening cultivators, Valen was in a tough spot. There was no easy solution here. If the boy Li Yu or Little Crab was a well known entity the decision would have been easier. But he was someone new and seemed completely fearless against Valen’s threats or pressure.

  Valen appeared to be pondering his next move and his face was a mask of furious contemplation. But inside that mask, Valen was screaming. He was a rat in a maze who had turned a familiar corner only to find a wall of spikes where the cheese used to be.

  For decades, the House of Crimson Fang had operated on a simple but brutal method. Identify the weak, isolate the valuable and apply pressure until the target breaks. It was a strategy that relied on two simple things. The fact that the House of the Crimson Fang was strong and feared. With power, they can do as they pleased with little to no repercussion.

  The second assumption was that everyone had something to lose that they could exploit or threaten. A family, a sect, a reputation or simply their lives. They relied on these two simple facts and have been very successful. Of course the most important thing was their power and strength, which allowed them to do such things.

  But today, Valen realized with a sinking and nauseating dread that he had not kicked a clay pot waiting to be broken open. He had kicked an iron plate. An iron plate forged in a hell he didn’t recognize, carried by a boy who smiled while discussing mass genocide. The craziest thing was that no one here was willing to stop him!

  ‘How?’ Valen’s mind raced, his thoughts frantic and disjointed. ‘How did it come to this? He should have folded. He’s an outsider! A child from the Southern Continent! He should have been pressured by the greater good! He should have bowed and handed over the seal to gain favor! Or at least went along with the will of the crowd. Is he that confident in himself?!’

  That was how it always worked. When the Crimson Fang demanded a resource, smaller sects handed it over with forced smiles. They were terrified of the consequences of refusal.

  But Li Yu hadn’t bowed. Not even a little bit. He hadn’t even flinched. Instead, he had drawn a line in the sand and dared Valen to cross it. He was promising not just a fight but total systematic annihilation. He threatened the entire House of the Crimson Fang and every single organization standing behind them.

  “I will kill everyone standing behind you. Then Tekton and I will take a walk to the House of Crimson Fang.”

  The words echoed in Valen’s skull. They were bouncing around like trapped birds. He looked at Li Yu. The boy was relaxed. His arms were now crossed but his posture was open. There was no defensive stance, no flaring of Qi or any other kind of aura anymore. It was the stance of someone who didn't believe he was in danger. It was the stance of a butcher eyeing a pig.

  And behind the boy… the mountain.

  Tekton, the Sky-Iron Dreadnought, loomed like a physical manifestation of death. The beast wasn’t roaring either. It wasn’t rampaging. It was simply waiting there. Its golden eyes were fixed on Valen with a terrifying focus. The mandibles continued to click softly, a rhythmic sound that grated on Valen’s nerves like a knife on bone.

  ‘If I attack,’ Valen began to simulate the outcome. His centuries of combat experience was providing a grim forecast, ‘I die. Instantly.’

  He knew his own strength. He was a powerful cultivator in his own right. He was a higher echelon elder of a great house. But against a beast he couldn’t even fathom how strong it was? Against a creature made of living metal that had just destroyed a beast tide? He was nothing. He would be vaporized before he could even summon his spirit beast.

  Even worse was this boy in front of him. He really wanted nothing more than to charge at this boy and slap him to death. No one had ever made him lose so much face before. Not in his entire life had he had to suffer such condescending looks and words.

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  But this boy was clearly not simple. Now that he had time to evaluate and think about it, this boy was most likely the real danger. If only he hadn’t been so greedy, too used to his ways. But a fired cannon cannot be taken back. ‘Is it too late to take a step back? No, I can’t! The face of the house would be destroyed, we’d be a laughing stock instead of a house to be feared!’ Valen thought.

  ‘But if I attacked and then died, what then? Would he follow through? The boy has the eyes of someone who honored his threats. He would descend on the Crimson Fang headquarters. The sect’s defenses were formidable, its forces were strong, yes. Against a beast that strong and one that ate mountains? Against a guerilla fighter who had no territory to defend and could keep slicing off pieces of meat from the house?’ Valen continued to think.

  The House of Crimson Fang would bleed if it confronted Li Yu and couldn’t outright kill him. Mines would collapse. Caravans would vanish. Elders would be assassinated one by one. The foundation of their power, their wealth and their fear factor would crumble. Valen would be remembered not as a martyr but as the fool who doomed his entire bloodline for a moment of greed. For years of suffering he brought on others. All of which lead him to this day.

  ‘But if I retreat…’

  The alternative was a poison of a different kind.

  Valen felt the eyes of the crowd on his back. Thousands of disciples. Dozens of sect leaders. Even more representatives from other forces. The Supreme Commander. They were all watching.

  The House of Crimson Fang ruled through intimidation. They were one of the alphas of the Eastern beast-taming world. If he backed down now, if he let a boy from the South spit in his face and walked away wiping it off… the illusion of their invincibility would shatter. They were strong but not strong enough to fight against so many wolves coming to pick at their scraps.

  The other sects, the ones they had bullied for years, would smell blood. They would see weakness. Negotiations would become harder. Tributes would shrink. Challenges would rise. To retreat was to admit that the Crimson Fang was a paper tiger, fierce only until someone brought a torch.

  Valen’s throat was parched. He tried to swallow but his tongue and throat felt like sandpaper. He was trapped between ruin and shame, and the clock was ticking. The longer he took to decide, the weaker he seemed.

  The pressure wasn’t just crushing Valen. It was pulverizing the "coalition" standing behind him.

  The rat-faced Elder of the Gray Wind Sect, who had been so eager to shout his support only moments ago, was now trembling so violently his robes were vibrating.

  ‘Why did I step out?’ the Elder screamed internally, his eyes darting between Tekton’s mandibles and Li Yu’s indifferent face. ‘Greed! Stupid, blind greed! I thought Valen would handle it as he has always done. I thought we would just pressure the boy, take the beast and the Gray Wind Sect would get a share of the merit. We could then use that to secure more resources that we need from The Crimson Fang.’

  He had bet on the Crimson Fang’s reputation. He had bet that the boy would fold. Now, he realized he had placed his bet on a sinking ship and he was shackled to the mast.

  “I will kill you. Then I will kill everyone standing behind you.”

  The Elder looked at the other representatives standing in the semi-circle. The burly man with the hammer was sweating profusely, his knuckles white as he gripped the haft of his weapon. It was not in aggression but in pure terror.

  A female cultivator from the Iron Lotus Sect was slowly, imperceptibly shuffling backward, trying to put distance between herself and Valen without drawing attention. She too had stepped forward due to past experiences. They join in, the target succumbs and they all benefit and look loyal.

  They were all thinking the same thing.

  ‘We are not the Crimson Fang. We cannot survive this. The Crimson Fang might be able to weather the storm and maybe survive if war broke out between them. We cannot. If he fails to destroy their headquarters, he will come to destroy us instead.’

  If Li Yu attacked, they were collateral damage that the Crimson Fang wouldn’t even care about. They were the garnish on the plate. And if they somehow survived? If the Crimson Fang were able to kill that boy and his beast during the war? Their sects would still have suffered and became smaller, weaker.

  If Li Yu decided to wage war on them first? They would be wiped out in a week. Just that beast alone would be able to do it.

  They looked at Valen’s back, pleading silently for him to fix this. To apologize. To attack. To do something other than stand there and let the reaper sharpen his scythe. But they dared not speak. To speak was to draw the eye of the beast. So they stood, paralyzed by their own poor choices, waiting for the executioner to decide if he wanted to swing the axe.

  From where he was, Supreme Commander Shen Tu watched the tableau with eyes that had seen centuries of war, yet rarely a scene so satisfyingly complex.

  He stood perfectly still, his aura retracted, making him seem like a statue of judgement. But his mind was a whirlwind of strategic calculus.

  ‘The Crimson Fang has been a thorn in the Alliance’s side for too long,’ Shen Tu mused, his gaze resting on Valen’s trembling shoulders.

  The House of Crimson Fang was powerful, yes. They provided beasts and man power for the war effort. But they were also cancerous. They hoarded the best specimens for themselves. They drove up prices on essential resources.

  They bullied smaller sects into submission, creating friction and resentment within the ranks when unity was needed most. They were a rotten pillar supporting the roof of the Alliance, necessary only because there was nothing to replace them.

  Until now.