Blood Battle (Part 2)

"This is impossible!"

"Why is it impossible? You're their leader. Even if someone ordered you to kill me, failing the mission wouldn't mean death. But if you come over, your brother will die for sure... Back off."

Shen Zhui retreated a few steps, a flicker of doubt in his mind.

He had guessed from the start, seeing how alike these two Ninth Stage Houtian Martial Artists looked, that they might be blood brothers.

He had long harbored the idea of taking a hostage to force them to let him go.

In Shen Zhui's view, perhaps two leaders with no blood ties might weigh the pros and cons and still refuse to spare him.

But now that he'd confirmed they were brothers, and the other party clearly cared deeply about the hostage's safety, why wouldn't they still let him go?

No matter how strict the clan, as long as their identities weren't exposed, failing a mission wouldn't warrant execution, would it?

A Ninth Stage Houtian Martial Artist wasn't some common cabbage to be discarded at will.

"A squad this well-trained—must be either the Li Family or the Yang Family, right?"

"Don't try to fish for information... Let him go!"

"Let me leave."

"You won't get away!"

"But your brother can't hold on much longer. A little more blood loss, and not even a god could save him."

Shen Zhui stepped back, crushing a dry twig underfoot.

"Just tell me—is there any room to negotiate..."

Suddenly—

"Whoosh~"

"Mmph mmph!!"

"Bastard! Who fired that crossbow bolt!"

"Stop!"

"Don't move!"

"Stay back!"

From behind the crowd, someone loosed a crossbow bolt aimed at Shen Zhui's head, but the result was far from ideal—it struck A'Er instead.

Under A'Da's furious roar, the restless martial artists behind him were subdued again, returning to a standoff.

Several times, A'Da, seething with rage, nearly lunged forward, but Shen Zhui never gave him the chance, shifting his angle to keep A'Er's body between them, forcing A'Da to retreat again.

Seeing the deadlock persist, and A'Er starting to cough up blood, on the verge of collapse at any moment, A'Da's voice grew hoarse.

Suddenly, he fixed his gaze on a single direction.

Shen Zhui followed A'Da's line of sight with his peripheral vision and noticed, on a distant slope, two blurry figures still standing!

Just as A'Da looked that way, an aged voice rang out.

"Hmph, a pack of useless fools!"

Hearing a reply, A'Da's face lit up with hope, but then it turned pale.

"The Young Master orders: spare no cost, kill this man immediately! If A'Er dies, this man will be buried with him."

"What? No! Don't—Young Master—" A'Da fell into despair. He hadn't expected such an answer.

Seeing the surrounding martial artists already moving despite his attempts to stop them, A'Da roared like a wounded beast.

"A Young Master like that is worth your loyalty?!" Shen Zhui's heart turned ice-cold.

He finally understood why A'Da wouldn't agree to let him go—he simply didn't dare make that call.

Tears welled in A'Da's eyes, his eyeballs bloodshot. His expression twisted in struggle for a moment, then suddenly calmed.

He raised his long blade and charged at Shen Zhui.

"Fuck!"

Shen Zhui cursed loudly, twisted the Iron Ruler, and shredded A'Er's innards before yanking it out sharply.

"Pfft pfft~"

Blood sprayed. With a kick, he sent the dying A'Er tumbling into the crowd, then turned and fled toward the slope.

"Kill!"

"Kill him!"

"Shoot!"

Roars rose and fell in waves as they all fired at Shen Zhui.

Shen Zhui's form shifted, never moving in a straight line, darting and zigzagging like a nimble antelope.

It was Shen Zhui's luck that he wasn't meant to die here. Running uphill, their upward shots were far less effective than the earlier ambush. A'Er's body also bought him a moment's delay, and in the chaos, their aim was nowhere near as precise as before.

And at that moment, a sudden autumn gust swept through, throwing the loosed arrows off their mark.

Even the few that chanced to strike Shen Zhui had spent their force, unable to pierce his silver-scale soft armor.

Shen Zhui fled with blinding speed; in mere ten breaths, he had neared the slope, leaving his pursuers in the dust.

"To catch the bandits, catch the chief first. Only by seizing that brocade-clad young master is there a sliver of hope."

Shen Zhui's target was clear, though the river-source county seat lay only ten li away.

Without a horse, trying to outrun these killers on foot was a pipe dream—it would only hasten his death.

"Looking for death! Uncle Cang, kill him." Li Ming saw Shen Zhui charging straight at him and knew full well what he was plotting.

But Shen Zhui's intent enraged him; Li Ming felt as if he had been dealt a profound insult.

A plan that should have been a sure thing had been battered to this state by Shen Zhui. Li Ming, who always prided himself on his strategic foresight, now hated Shen Zhui to the bone and wanted nothing more than to kill him!

"Yes, young master."

The old man surnamed Cang nodded, then flickered. Without any visible motion, he took a single step, crossed ten zhang in an instant, and appeared before Shen Zhui, his fist driving straight at his chest.

"What? So fast!" Shen Zhui's heart pounded wildly as he swung his iron ruler in a fierce chop!

"Clang!"

The old man surnamed Cang turned his fist into a palm, slapping the iron ruler directly with his bare hand and knocking it aside.

A tremendous force surged through, and the iron ruler in his hand nearly flew free!

Under that blow, Shen Zhui almost lost his grip on the iron ruler.

"This, this is... a Xiantian martial artist!"

In that single exchange, Shen Zhui felt the gap and broke out in a cold sweat!

"Die!"

Shen Zhui's nerves were stretched to the breaking point. Light flared from his hand as ten bursts of primal essence erupted, and he hurled the iron ruler straight at Li Ming, who stood not far away.

"Shwoosh!" The iron ruler sliced through the air, arriving in an instant.

"Bastard! How dare you!" The old man surnamed Cang's beard and hair bristled as he slammed a palm into Shen Zhui's chest, then whirled back.

"Zing~"

The iron ruler stopped half a meter before Li Ming, its body trembling and humming. A large hand gripped it, and blood seeped from the palm.

In that desperate strike, even a Xiantian martial artist, catching a blade barehanded, had suffered some minor flesh wounds.

"This old servant is guilty—I nearly let that villain harm the young master!" The old man surnamed Cang was panicked. If Li Ming had truly been wounded here, he would have a thousand deaths to answer for.

"Kill him! Kill him! Uncle Cang, hurry!" Li Ming roared, his face pale.

Though his strength rivaled a Houtian ninth-rank, he followed the path of qi cultivation, not martial arts, so his body was naturally weaker than a martial artist's.

In that split second, he hadn't even reacted!

Now, belatedly realizing the iron ruler had been only half a meter away and had even cut Uncle Cang's hand, his heart pounded with lingering terror!

"It's over!" Shen Zhui knelt on the grass, watching the strike fail, a flash of unwillingness in his eyes.

He had been wounded from the start, and after a bitter struggle, his strength was nearly spent.

The burst of ten primal essences had left his body almost drained, and with that palm strike from the Xiantian martial artist, he no longer had the strength even to flee.

As the old man surnamed Cang's fist grew larger in his vision, Shen Zhui struggled to his feet.

He, Shen Zhui, would die standing even if he had to!

Just as Shen Zhui thought death was certain, he only felt a gust of wind.

The opponent's fist stopped half a meter before him.

At the same time, a voice rang out.

"Old ghost Cang, a dignified Xiantian martial artist, striking at a Houtian eighth-rank junior? Have you lived so long that you've thrown your dignity to the dogs?!"