THE VOID THRONE

CHAPTER 12

Scarface raised his hand.

All four men moved at once.

The two on the left went straight for Zhao Peng. Smart — four spiritual roots announced itself in the way Zhao Peng moved, and they were right to treat him as the bigger threat. They had their hands full immediately, Zhao Peng drawing on his cultivation and meeting them with controlled, precise techniques.

That left Scarface and the shorter man for Wei Liang.

The shorter man came first. He was fast — not Scarface's slow, deliberate, completely-certain-of-itself speed, but something quicker and sharper, the speed of someone who liked getting to the point. He came in low, a sweeping wind-element kick aimed right at Wei Liang's ankles, the kind of move designed to take your feet out from under you and bring you to the ground before anything else can happen.

He's expecting me to jump over it or jump back, Wei Liang thought, watching the angle coming at him. He has a follow-up ready for both. Don't give him either.

He used Void Step. Moved forward and left at the same time.

The kick swept through empty air. The shorter man's momentum carried him sideways, spinning half-around, suddenly facing the completely wrong direction.

Wei Liang was right inside his guard.

He drove his elbow into the shorter man's stomach — hard, precise, the point just below the ribs where it does the most damage. No Qi. No technique. Just the simple, hard fact of an elbow hitting the right place at the right angle with everything behind it.

He felt the impact go all the way up his arm.

The shorter man folded like a piece of paper, both knees hitting the road at once. He opened his mouth and no sound came out because there was no air in him to make a sound with.

One down. Three left. One Void Step used. Two — maybe three — left.

But Scarface was already moving.

This was different. Completely different from anything Wei Liang had faced before. Seventh Layer speed didn't just mean faster in the normal way — it meant the space between there and here had been removed, the gap between Scarface being across the road and Scarface being right in front of him was gone so fast it barely registered as movement at all.

He threw a palm strike straight at Wei Liang's chest. Dark energy crackled around his hand — not fire, not wind, not any element Wei Liang recognised. Something compressed and wrong-feeling, like the kind of sound that gives you a headache without knowing why.

"Seventh Layer," Scarface said, as the strike came. Completely calm. Like he was reminding Wei Liang of a fact he might have forgotten. "You should keep that number in mind."

Wei Liang ducked. He felt the crackling energy pass through his hair so close it made his scalp tingle in a strange, unpleasant way. He used Void Step to get behind Scarface—

He pressed both palms against Scarface's shoulders and pushed Void Qi into his cultivation—

And got thrown backward like he'd pushed against a wall that swung back.

He stumbled, caught himself, stood there staring at his own hands. Both arms were numb from the elbows down. A dull, buzzing numbness that took a second to start fading.

What was that?

Scarface's cultivation wasn't right. Wasn't clean. Not in the way a normal cultivator's was — even a dark or aggressive one. It was twisted at the centre. Forced through channels that were too narrow for it, the way you'd force water through a pipe that's too small. Dark at the very centre. And his disruption technique had bounced right off it.

His core is corrupted, Wei Liang thought. Corrupted how? Who does that? Why?

The disruption won't work on him. Different approach needed.

"Oh," Scarface said, turning to face him. He sounded genuinely interested. Not alarmed — interested, like a collector who just found something he hasn't seen before. "That was something. What was that technique? You almost got through."

"Almost," Wei Liang said. He was buying time. His arms were coming back. He needed twenty more seconds.

"Almost is right," Scarface agreed pleasantly. He rolled his shoulders in a casual, comfortable way. "Let me tell you something about myself, since we seem to have a moment. I have been doing this for twenty-three years. Twenty-three years of actual fights — not sparring, not matches, real ones. I have fought people at Core Formation stage who had twice my power and I have walked away from every single one of those encounters." He raised his right fist and the dark energy coiled around it, thicker now, more concentrated. "I have scars from things that should have killed me. I am not someone you get through. I am not someone you find a clever trick against. I am someone you don't get through, period." He looked at Wei Liang with something that was almost pity. "And you are seventeen years old and you have been cultivating for four months. I respect the guts. I genuinely do. But guts and four months against twenty-three years only ends one way."

He came forward.

The punch hit Wei Liang's chest and the world went white.

Everything disappeared for one full second — sound, sight, thought — and then came rushing back all at once as he hit the carriage wall hard enough to put a dent in it, hard enough that the whole carriage shifted sideways on its wheels, and the pain arrived in a wave that covered every part of him simultaneously.

He slid down.

Landed on his feet. Barely. He had no idea how.

Ribs, he thought, when he could think again. Not broken. Keep moving.

He straightened up. His vision was still slightly grey at the edges. Scarface stood across from him without hurry. The patience of someone who has never needed to hurry.

"Still standing," Scarface said, and there was actual respect in his voice — just a small amount, but real. "Good. Last chance, then. The System. Tell me who gave it to you, and this ends right now. Everybody walks away."

Wei Liang breathed.

Ribs screaming. Arms still half-numb. Two Void Steps left at most. Disruption technique won't work. One move remaining — the total emptiness push — and he didn't know for certain it was strong enough for someone this level.

He thought about the cliff.

About the gold letters that said I've been looking for you.

About forty nights of patterns and nosebleeds and getting up and doing it again.

About the green dress.

The oiled hair.

The grey stone.

I didn't walk back down that mountain to fall on this road.

"No," he said.