Chapter Four: The Counterattack

Almost at the very instant Old Cheng hurled his cup, the disguised tea guest Old Shi and the remaining bandits moved as one, each drawing their weapons and striking toward the table of the woman in red. Old Cheng himself unsheathed his long blade and joined the fray.

The guards were not to be outdone; they too drew their weapons and rushed to meet the attackers.

Just then, a blue throwing knife shot out from the rear courtyard, speeding straight for the face of the woman in red.

She had long been prepared—her long blade intercepted the knife, which embedded itself in the steel, its remaining force pushing her backwards so fiercely that she crashed through three wooden tables before finally halting. She gathered herself, standing tall, though her hand still trembled slightly.

A young man in violet robes emerged from the rear courtyard, a hint of regret on his face, muttering, “It seems a direct confrontation is inevitable after all.” As he spoke, he reached into his sleeve and produced a talisman, chanting softly.

From the moment Chen Lin appeared, the woman in red had fixed all her attention upon him.

She knew that among everyone present, only this youth in violet could truly threaten her. Seeing him now casting spells, she didn’t hesitate, using her lightness skill to launch herself forward, her long blade swinging straight for Chen Lin’s face.

Yet Chen Lin was calm—his right hand formed a seal, conjuring a ball of fire that leaped from his fingertips, shooting toward the woman in red. This fireball spell was a basic technique of cultivators: effective against ordinary folk, but not very powerful against martial artists. Chen Lin didn’t expect it to harm the enemy, only to hinder her momentarily.

Indeed, the woman in red spun her blade in midair, diverting the fireball’s trajectory and sending it elsewhere.

But she herself was delayed by this maneuver. In that instant, Chen Lin had completed his incantation: a golden-bronze hammer flew from the talisman, swirling in the air, brimming with spiritual energy. Chen Lin formed another seal, and the hammer smashed toward the woman.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

In the blink of an eye, she exchanged a dozen blows with the hammer, feeling its attacks come from impossible angles, its force immense—no less than a seasoned master in combat. A single misstep would mean instant death. Thus, she focused all her energy on defense, while Chen Lin, manipulating the hammer with both hands, dared not let his guard down. The two were locked in stalemate.

Meanwhile, the clash between bandits and guards had reached a fever pitch. Though the bandits were few, each was a veteran of countless battles, fierce and skilled.

Especially Old Cheng and Old Shi—their martial prowess far surpassed the others. Among the guards, one was a skilled fighter, evidently their leader, who commanded his men to form ranks and resist the assault. Though the guards were less skilled, their teamwork and mutual support kept them from casualties, despite the danger.

Chen Lin, seeing that the battle was dragging on, grew anxious. He shouted at Old Cheng, “You fool! Have you never heard that to catch the thief, you must first seize the king? Take the child first!”

The bandits immediately caught on, channeling their internal energy into every strike, attacking ruthlessly toward the beautiful matron and the little girl. The guards scrambled to defend them, but the bandits pressed on, heedless of their own safety, their weapons aimed only at the two targets.

The guards’ duty was to protect their charges—not to kill. If those two were harmed, even if every bandit were slain, it would mean nothing. Thus, they dared not counterattack, only defend, often forced to abandon one area for another. The bandits seized the advantage, pressing their assault with reckless abandon.

With a sickening crunch, one bandit wounded a guard, tearing open a gap in the defense. The bandit’s blade swung toward the little girl; another guard threw himself in the way, blood gushing as he was struck.

Two guards were instantly gravely wounded, making it impossible to maintain formation. The bandits fought harder, and one managed to break through, reaching for the little girl. The guard leader, with desperate strength, knocked aside Old Shi’s hammer, grabbed the girl with his left hand, and pushed her aside, narrowly avoiding the bandit’s grasp.

The little girl’s face was pale, and by chance, she ended up right in front of Liang Yan, who was crouched in the corner, arms wrapped around his knees, trembling.

Old Shi saw the girl isolated, surrounded only by a young boy—a stroke of luck. He used his lightness skill, darting toward Liang Yan. The guard leader would not let him pass, chasing Old Shi and swinging his blade.

Old Shi turned to parry, but did not halt his advance, reaching the little girl in moments, his left hand grasping her arm.

“With this girl as hostage, I’ll force that woman in red to surrender. Ha! The first merit will be mine!”

His heart burned with excitement, but suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen. Looking down, he saw a dagger embedded in his gut.

The hand gripping the dagger had reached out from behind the girl, under her arm.

It was Liang Yan!

Now, the timid expression on his face was gone, replaced by calm.

“You—” was all Old Shi managed to say before the guard leader, rushing up from behind, split him in two with a single stroke.

The girl’s face was ashen, lips tightly pressed together, her small hand clutching Liang Yan’s clothes. Liang Yan gently patted her on the back, and only then did her expression ease, though her hand refused to let go.

She had been pushed to him, terrified, but heard a voice behind her say, “If you trust me, when the bad man comes, pretend to be scared and don’t run—let him grab you. I’ll handle it.”

She was petrified, but somehow reassured by the voice. She stood still, waiting for Old Shi to reach her.

Liang Yan possessed some martial skill, though he was not proficient—he could not defeat Old Shi, let alone any ordinary bandit in the tavern. But he had hidden his abilities, and Old Shi, convinced he was harmless, paid him no mind, distracted by the guard leader. Liang Yan waited until Old Shi grabbed the girl, striking exactly when Old Shi was at his most complacent. This series of calculations granted him every advantage, ending a bandit’s life.

Chen Lin had been watching the battle, relieved when Old Shi seemed about to succeed. But suddenly, the situation reversed, and Old Shi was dead. Now Chen Lin knew he had been played by this young boy.

Fury boiled within him. He bellowed, “I’ll kill you!” With a flick of his left sleeve, a blue throwing knife shot toward Liang Yan.

The woman in red snorted, her left hand sweeping toward Liang Yan, sending a gentle wave of internal energy that pushed him and the girl several inches aside. The blue knife whistled past their ears, smashing the wall behind them.

Chen Lin, seeing his attack thwarted, grew even more agitated.

The woman in red’s skill was unmatched—she instantly spotted her chance. She knocked aside the bronze hammer, and like a swooping swallow, charged forward—her blade leading the way before her body.

Chen Lin felt a flash of cold light; his left arm flew off like a severed kite.

A piercing scream tore from his lips. He staggered backward, frantically tossing several talismans—some conjuring fireballs, others ice pillars. The woman in red wanted to press her advantage, but was forced back by the barrage.

“You, a mere mortal, dared to sever my arm—I’ll make you suffer eternally!”

Chen Lin’s face twisted in hatred. He drew a black pellet from his robes and flicked it toward her.

She was wary as soon as his hand reached his chest. The pellet moved too fast; she hurriedly swung her blade. But before it touched the pellet, it exploded, releasing a red mist that instantly entered her nose and mouth.

“Damn!”

Alarmed, she tried to use her internal energy to expel the poison, but the mist sapped her strength, robbing her of energy until her power was utterly drained.

“Heh heh, how does the ‘Drunken Immortal’ taste? Not even cultivators can resist it—everyone must lay down before me!”

This ‘Drunken Immortal’ was a secret treasure of Chen Lin’s family. Knowing he could not remain in the family to cultivate, he spent nearly all his wealth to obtain it, intending to use it as a life-saving measure in the world. Now, with his greatest trump card gone and his arm severed, his hatred burned brighter than ever.

“Heh heh, don’t worry—I won’t let you die easily. You think death is escape?”

“No, I’ll make you watch as everyone around you is murdered, then hand you to my men for them to torment and defile you. When they tire of you, I’ll kill you slowly, slice by slice. Afterward, I’ll strip your soul from your body, hang your corpse naked at the gates of Cloud City for all to see, and imprison your soul in my spiritual vessel, where you’ll suffer endless torment, never to reincarnate! Ha! Little lady, you cannot imagine the methods of immortals!”

His words were more vicious than ever. Even the proud woman in red could not help but shudder, her body trembling uncontrollably.

At that moment, a furious roar echoed from the rear courtyard, shaking everyone to their core—as if the voice of death itself.

All eyes turned to the rear, where the guest room door stood open—yet the room was empty.

As confusion reigned, they turned to find that someone had appeared in the main hall.

He wore grey monk’s robes, his face like a dried jujube, eyes large as a child’s fist, yellow teeth streaked with blood, and both arms covered in strange runes that emanated a chilling aura.

He now grasped Chen Lin’s collar with his left hand, his right hand raised in a fist. Chen Lin, caught by his gaze, felt as if crushed beneath a mountain, unable to move or even breathe, his face purpling.

Liang Yan drew a sharp breath—he was certain this was the old monk who had saved him, but now the monk’s appearance had changed so much that, without the robes, he might mistake him for a demon from hell.

Chen Lin’s throat gurgled, trying to plead for mercy. But the old monk gave him no chance, smashing his fist into Chen Lin with a resounding “bang!”—and Chen Lin’s body dissolved in a cloud of blood, vanishing into nothing.

With that punch, the monk’s wrath seemed spent—his aura faded rapidly, and he became once more the frail, withered old monk, hands pressed together, softly chanting the Buddha’s name.

Only then did everyone in the hall regain their ability to move. The bandits, seeing the monk’s power, were terrified, dropping their weapons and kowtowing repeatedly. After a dozen prostrations, they scrambled to escape.

Now, in the once chaotic tavern, only the woman in red’s party and Liang Yan remained.

Earlier, when the old monk appeared, the woman in red felt her internal energy surge, instantly expelling the Drunken Immortal’s poison and restoring her strength.

She gazed deeply at the old monk and said slowly, “I always knew the Buddha could rage, and today I’ve seen it—truly the wrathful Vajra, terrifying the spirits and ghosts!”

The old monk stood where he was, hands pressed together, eyes lowered, offering no reply. She smiled wryly, clasped her fists and said, “My name is Lin Ziqing. Thank you, Master, for saving us today.”

With that, she gritted her teeth and went to the little girl. After a careful inspection, she found the girl merely frightened, unharmed. She finally relaxed, stroking the girl’s head affectionately.

Turning, she asked Liang Yan, “Little brother, what is your name?”

“Liang Yan.”

“Thank you for saving us twice today. If you don’t mind, you may call me Aunt Qing.” She took out a jade pendant and offered it to him, saying, “If you ever come to the capital, use this to find me. If there’s anything I can help you with, do not hesitate to ask.”

Liang Yan shook his head, pushing the pendant back. “Helping you is helping myself. If I stood by, I’d only end up dead.”

Lin Ziqing was even more impressed by his refusal to claim credit.

The little girl, seeing Liang Yan refuse the pendant, grew anxious. She snatched it from Lin Ziqing’s hand and shoved it into Liang Yan’s palm.

“Just let him take it, Aunt Qing! He saved my life—I thought I was going to die here.” She turned to Liang Yan, saying, “Brother Liang, please accept it! You must come to the capital and play with me. My name is Liu Wanrou, but you can call me Wan’er. My father is very wealthy; whatever you want to eat, he can buy it for you. There are lots of fun places in the capital—I’ll show you around. If you get tired, you can rest at my house…”

It was as if she had never spoken so much at once, as if she poured out everything she knew in one breath. By the end, her face was flushed and she was slightly out of breath.

Lin Ziqing patted Wan’er’s back affectionately, gave Liang Yan a reproachful glance, and said, “Just accept it—Wan’er is giving you a gift. You’re friends now, and friends exchanging gifts is perfectly normal.”

Liang Yan scratched his head, then smiled easily. “You’re right!”

“Too bad I’ve accepted your gift, but have nothing to give you in return. If we meet again, I promise to give you a gift.”

Wan’er nodded enthusiastically.

Lin Ziqing suddenly recalled something and asked, her expression strange, “How did you discover it?” The question seemed abrupt; Wan’er couldn’t help but ask, “Discover what?”

Lin Ziqing, ever patient with Wan’er, held her hand and said, “If he hadn’t warned us about the poisoned tea, we’d have been doomed.”

Wan’er’s big eyes widened in curiosity. “Brother Liang warned us? But I didn’t hear him say anything.”

Lin Ziqing smiled. “His hint was subtle. When he brought the tea set, three cups were laid out, but one was overturned. That matches an old saying from my hometown, Bianzhou: ‘An overturned cup means hidden intentions,’ implying there was something wrong with the tea.”

She turned to Liang Yan and asked, “Is that right?”

Liang Yan nodded silently.

“But I’m curious—how did you know I was from Bianzhou?” Lin Ziqing pressed.

Liang Yan looked at her and said, “Because of the red string on your ankle.”

“Just for that?”

“My father once took me to Bianzhou for business. Customs there are conservative—when a woman comes of age, she ties a red string in her hair to show she is eligible for marriage. Seeing your great martial skill, I guessed you tied it on your ankle to defy convention. Honestly, I had no other option at the time—I could only take a gamble.”

Lin Ziqing gazed at him, thinking this child was extraordinarily strange, not to be judged by ordinary standards. She wanted to ask more, but a voice chanted the Buddha’s name behind her.

“Amitabha, Liang Yan, come with me.”