Chapter Sixteen: She Is My Woman

Yuan Hou was already simmering with anger after being scolded by Qing Ling earlier, and now, faced with a robber, his fury surged anew. His gaze sharpened, and with a flick of his wrist, a cold glint shot from his hand, aimed straight at the big man’s throat.

Though the giant appeared clumsy, his movements were astonishingly swift. As Yuan Hou’s flying dagger was about to strike his throat, the big man’s hands trembled, and his massive axe swept outward as if throwing open a window. With a metallic clang, the dagger was deflected.

Instead of being angered by Yuan Hou’s attack, the big man laughed. “Boy, you’re not playing by the rules! You should at least let me finish speaking first!”

Yuan Hou eyed the axe with unease. He knew the flying dagger carried the force of his innate energy—at the very least, it weighed a thousand pounds in impact. Yet the big man had brushed it aside with casual ease. Flicking his wrist, four more daggers appeared, which he hurled in a swift motion.

Four daggers shot forth like bolts of lightning, targeting the giant’s head, throat, chest, and lower body.

“Hah!” the big man bellowed, swung his axe powerfully at the ground, and with a forceful upward motion, tore a chunk of earth the size of a house from the ground to shield himself. The daggers struck the earthen block with four dull thuds, embedding themselves harmlessly.

This time, the big man’s amusement vanished. He hefted the chunk of earth and hurled it at Yuan Hou.

With a thundering crash, the ground quaked and dirt flew everywhere as Yuan Hou dodged frantically from the big man’s attacks.

“Coward! Don’t run! If you have guts, stand and fight!” the big man shouted, frustrated by his failure to land a blow.

As he dodged, Yuan Hou chuckled to himself. “Lucky I was smart enough to specialize in throwing knives and light footwork—otherwise, I’d be done for today.” All the while, he maneuvered the big man closer to Lei Yan.

Lei Yan did not think much of Yuan Hou, but for now, they were on the same side. He had no choice but to endure his own weakness, rise to his feet, and prepare to intervene.

The big man was all brute strength, but his internal cultivation had made him even more formidable—ordinary fighters would stand no chance against a single blow. But Yuan Hou’s evasive maneuvers and relentless daggers frustrated him to no end. Suddenly, he stopped, grabbing his head in pain, and shouted toward the mound behind him, “Leng, I give up! Come help me!”

Lei Yan’s heart tightened. “Damn!” he cursed inwardly. He had not anticipated the big man would have reinforcements. He quickly extended his extrasensory powers toward the mound.

Behind the mound stood about a hundred bandits in yellow headscarves. On one side were two men: one, thin and draped in a black robe, exuded a sinister air with a curved blade in hand; the other, a middle-aged man of over forty, wore a tight yellow shirt that revealed his powerful physique. His deep and unyielding gaze seemed to pierce the soul. Hearing the big man’s shout, the middle-aged man smiled. “Lu Kai is boasting again. Go help him.”

“Yes, Cui Ba,” replied the man called Leng, respectfully.

Leng, blade in hand, strode from behind the mound. As he departed, Cui Ba called out, “Leave no survivors.”

“Yes!” Before the words had left his tongue, Leng had already darted tens of meters forward like a wraith, his blade flashing with cold light, sending a continuous arc of deadly energy toward Yuan Hou.

From the arc of the blade, Yuan Hou judged his opponent to be an innate martial artist—and a formidable one at that. As the blade aura closed in, cold sweat broke out on Yuan Hou’s brow. His breathing faltered, and he scrambled desperately, sending clumps of earth flying as he narrowly evaded Leng’s attack.

“Hm?” Leng grunted in surprise, evidently not expecting Yuan Hou to dodge so deftly. Spinning his blade, he struck again, aiming for Yuan Hou’s neck, his speed and form pushed to the limit, ghosting toward his target.

Leng moved so quickly that afterimages trailed him, and Yuan Hou, panicked by the sight, could no longer distinguish which was real. Fear overtook him, and for a moment he forgot to run.

With a resounding crash, Leng’s blade was suddenly jarred, forcing him back several steps. Blood welled at the corner of his mouth as he stared, shocked, at his attacker—a pale-faced, sweat-soaked youth who glared at him defiantly. Leng could hardly believe this frail-looking boy had nearly killed him with a single counter. Such a thing was almost unheard of in the mundane world.

“Thank you!” Yuan Hou said to Lei Yan, his face full of gratitude.

Lei Yan glared at Leng. Though he appeared able to fight, he was in truth spent. Even lifting a hand required all his willpower. Gritting his teeth, he flicked a pinch of powder into the air. Knowing there were still a hundred enemies behind the mound, Lei Yan had resorted to a deadly poison—Ten Steps Down—which promised to fell any within ten paces.

“Hmph!” Leng snorted, sensing danger. He immediately circulated his inner energy to guard his body and charged in again at blinding speed.

Lei Yan closed his eyes, relying on his extrasensory powers to sense the attack and hoping to survive by dodging at the last possible moment.

Yuan Hou, oblivious to Lei Yan’s plan, watched Leng smugly. “Come on! This time, Lei will finish you off for sure!”

Leng closed in within a few steps, his blade flashing. A thin red line appeared on Lei Yan’s neck, fresh blood oozing out. Lei Yan had braced himself for injury, but even with his powers, he was a fraction too slow, and the blade drew blood—though not fatally, still enough to startle him.

Lei Yan was lucky, but Yuan Hou was not. He had been waiting for Lei Yan to act, but instead, he was caught by Leng’s blade. The knife swept across his throat without pause; blood spurted out as he clutched his neck in terror and collapsed, unable even to utter a word.

Leng was also stunned that his blade had left only a superficial wound on Lei Yan’s neck. Both men were taken aback. Lei Yan wondered, “Why hasn’t Ten Steps Down worked yet? Has the poison failed?”

As Lei Yan pondered, the man behind the mound emerged, smiling at Lu Kai. “Lu Kai, didn’t you say you could handle—” Before he could finish, his face changed, and he collapsed thunderously.

“Cui Ba!” Lu Kai shouted, dashing to his fallen leader. After a few steps, he too crashed to the ground, raising a cloud of dust.

“It hasn’t failed!” Lei Yan’s heart leaped, but before he could celebrate, a curved blade was pressed against his neck.

“Speak. What did you do?” demanded Leng coldly.

“Just a bit of poison. If I die, they’ll all die with me,” Lei Yan replied icily, though he was puzzled why Leng was still standing. For now, he could only stall for time to save his own life.

“Hand over the antidote, and I’ll spare you,” Leng threatened.

“I doubt you’re the one in charge,” Lei Yan replied, retrieving a vial from his mystical weapon. “Take this bottle to that man’s nose—he’ll wake. I want to speak with him.” Lei Yan knew Leng had no authority to decide his fate; regardless of the antidote, Leng would not spare him.

Leng hesitated, then sneered, “Boy, you’d better not try any tricks, or I’ll skin you alive!”

“Don’t worry—I know I can’t escape. Go quickly!” Lei Yan urged. Ten Steps Down was lethal only with the addition of the vial’s Heqing Oil—without it, it would only incapacitate.

Suspicious, Leng brought the porcelain bottle to Cui Ba’s nose and uncorked it. A pungent aroma wafted out.

Cui Ba sneezed loudly, waking abruptly. Realizing he’d just collapsed, he looked toward Lei Yan, who was on the verge of collapse himself.

“You’re alright now, Cui Ba?” Leng asked.

“I’m fine,” replied Cui Ba, waving a hand and rising to his feet, striding toward Lei Yan.

“Fine? You were fine just a moment ago. But now it’s different—without my antidote, you’ll be dead in three days!” Lei Yan smiled, though his pallor made the expression seem ghastly.

“Do you think I’ll believe you?” Cui Ba scoffed.

“Hmph! Try circulating your energy if you don’t believe me,” Lei Yan retorted.

Unconvinced, Cui Ba did as suggested—only to immediately cough up blood.

Leng, seeing Cui Ba spit blood, roared, “Boy, I’ll flay you alive!” and charged with his blade raised.

“Stop!” Cui Ba ordered. He fixed Lei Yan with a cold stare. “You’re clever, but I’m not afraid of you withholding the antidote.” Turning to the watching Qing Ling, he smiled, “I suppose she’s your friend? If you don’t hand over the antidote, I’ll deal with her first.”

Qing Ling, still furious with Lei Yan for wanting to kill her and delighted to see him in trouble, had stayed out of the fight. Now, with the threat turned on her, she protested, “I’m not his friend! If you want to kill or fight, leave me out of it!”

“Oh?” Cui Ba smiled and looked at Lei Yan. “Is that true?” When Lei Yan nodded, Cui Ba ordered Leng, “In that case, she’s useless. Kill her.”

Leng, with a flick of his blade, charged at Qing Ling.

“Wait!” Lei Yan shouted with his last ounce of strength. “It’s true she’s not my friend—but she is my woman!” Gritting his teeth, he added, “If you lay a finger on her, I’ll make sure you all—” He collapsed before he could finish the threat.