The sea wind swept over the reefs, carrying the tang of salt. Chen Wuya stood at the edge of the breaking waves, one palm pressed to his chest. A dull ache throbbed there, like a red-hot needle driven into his flesh and slowly twisting. He paid it no mind, merely staring at the churning black waters ahead.
The wreckage of three warships was still sinking, the sound of splintering wood carrying over in fits and starts. He had just finished off the remaining foreign invaders and had been preparing to return to the rendezvous point on the western side of Penglai Island when he sensed an aura closing in midway—not an ordinary soldier, but someone at the level of a commander.
The man emerged from the fog, clad in silver armor with a curved saber hanging from his waist. The ruby set in its hilt flashed once, like an eye opening.
"You destroyed my stronghold and killed my men." His voice was neither loud nor soft, each word striking the sea's surface like a hammer. "Now, you will repay me."
Chen Wuya looked up at him. The man had deep-set features, an old scar across his left cheek, and a wicked air to him whenever the corners of his mouth curled up. Chen Wuya knew who he was.
Tuoba Lie.
The foreign tribe's third prince, master of the Blood Demon Saber, and one of the first to place a bounty on Chen Wuya's head.
"What do you want me to repay?" Chen Wuya asked. "My life?"
Tuoba Lie did not answer. His right hand had already settled on the saber hilt. In the next instant, he lunged forward, so fast even his shadow stretched into a line.
The saber flashed down. Chen Wuya twisted aside, but his shoulder was still