Pursuers

Guided by the old servant Yang Zheng, the group of five took advantage of the night. They first crossed a stretch of grassland, then climbed over a small hill, and finally turned onto the only dirt road near the manor. The lush grass vanished without a trace. With a single step, they entered a completely different world, one filled with hard-packed earth and gravel. The little book boy, Mingxiang, let out a fearful groan.

Gu Shenwei had been in a state between waking and sleeping. The journey through the dark, his sister's marriage, the short sword at his waist—everything felt so unreal. It wasn't until the horizon turned white that he fully woke up, surprised to find the sunlight hitting them from behind.

"Eh, are we heading west?" Cuilan's in-laws were from the Central Plains. Since the marriage had been arranged since childhood, the bridal procession should have been heading east.

Yang Zheng gave a vague grunt, as if the young master's question wasn't worth answering. After a moment, he said, "We are going to Shule City first. There will be government soldiers there to escort us."

"Shule City?" Gu Shenwei exclaimed in pleasant surprise. The Shule Kingdom was the largest nation in the Western Regions. Strictly speaking, the Gu family manor was located within its borders. Its capital was vast and densely populated, one of the most prosperous places in the Western Regions. Gu Shenwei had long heard of its name, but in the two years since they had moved to this area, he had never seen it with his own eyes.

Gu Lun had once served as a high-ranking official in the Central Plains, so Gu Shenwei didn't find it strange at all that the Shule Kingdom would send soldiers to escort them; he only felt that his family's entourage was a bit too small.

Miss Cuilan sat upright on her horse, seemingly having no objections to this arrangement. Gu Shenwei regained his energy and rode side-by-side with his sister, chattering about what interesting things he might see in Shule City. He even drew his short sword and brandished it with a flourish. Cuilan was quiet and reserved; the few times she did speak, it was only to urge her brother to be careful.

Although she was only three years his senior, Cuilan looked after her mischievous younger brother like a mother.

Because there were two young women in the group, they traveled quite slowly. By noon, the sun was scorching, yet Yang Zheng showed no intention of stopping to rest. Cuilan and the maid were already swaying in their saddles, but they endured it in silence. Gu Shenwei felt sorry for his sister, and he himself could barely stand the direct, blistering heat, so he shouted loudly that he wanted to eat and drink.

Just then, the sound of rapid hoofbeats faintly reached them from behind.

Yang Zheng jumped off his horse to listen carefully for a moment. He unhooked his trusty long spear from the right side of his horse and stood in the middle of the dirt road, his white hair fluttering, looking majestic and imposing.

The others retreated to the side of the road of their own accord. Only Gu Shenwei's eyes lit up; he jumped off his horse, drew his short sword, and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Yang Zheng.

"Sister, don't be afraid! I'll fight the bandits!"

"Don't get in my way." Yang Zheng held his long spear horizontally, using the shaft to nudge the young master behind him. He held a high position in the Gu family; aside from the master, Gu Lun, he was polite to no one, especially since Gu Shenwei was nominally his apprentice.

Gu Shenwei shook his short sword in dissatisfaction, still wanting to fight for a chance to kill the enemy. Just then, a cloud of dust rose in the distance—the pursuers had arrived.

There were three of them in total, all dressed in black. They reined in their horses about twenty paces away and drew their waist sabers in unison.

"The Gu family people are going back to the Gu family," said the man in black in the middle, his voice as cold and hard as rusted iron.

"Nameless nobodies should crawl back to their own homes," Yang Zheng said, bracing his long spear.

The Gu family prided themselves on their "Dual Mastery of Blade and Spear," practicing the blade first, then the spear. Yang Zheng was particularly skilled in spear techniques. Even though he was facing three opponents, he felt no fear at all.

The man in black on the left spurred his horse forward, brandishing his saber.

Yang Zheng held his long spear with the tip pointing diagonally upward, his legs spread and slightly crouched. He looked like a farmer holding a hoe, preparing to face a charging wolf.

As the man in black reached close range, he raised his waist saber high in the air, about to strike down with force. Suddenly, the long spear in Yang Zheng's hand thrust forward.

This thrust was simple and plain, without any tricks, and it didn't look like it carried much power; it seemed like something even a child could dodge. Yet, the man in black was unable to react. The spear struck his chest, and he fell from his horse, saber and all, without even letting out a sound. His horse continued to run for a while before stopping, looking bewildered.

The other two men in black couldn't help but pull their horses back two steps.

Gu Shenwei, however, ran forward two steps in excitement. He had never thought his master's martial arts were particularly impressive, especially since he had often criticized the family's spear techniques—poking back and forth every single day for years, Yang Zheng never practiced any other moves. He hadn't expected such a simple poke to have such power. The young master couldn't help but look at his master and the family's spear techniques with newfound respect.

The remaining two men in black glanced at each other, raised their blades, and spurred their horses forward simultaneously, one from the left and one from the right, attempting a pincer attack.

Gu Shenwei moved forward, wanting to test the power of his Short Sword. In truth, he had never formally studied swordsmanship; he had only practiced a few sets of saber techniques half-heartedly. To him, there was no difference between using a sword and a saber.

Yang Zheng once again used the shaft of his Long Spear to nudge the young master behind him. He remained in his stance—legs slightly bent, spear thrust forward—as if that were the only move he knew.

Sometimes, one move is enough. Yang Zheng had immersed himself in the Gu Clan Spear Technique for decades, thrusting at least a thousand times every single day, regardless of cold, heat, rain, or snow, never once faltering. To others, it was merely a dull, unremarkable thrust, but in his heart, it was one move that encompassed ten thousand, one move that could counter ten thousand. The more he practiced, the more marvelous it became, its profound essence difficult to put into words.

Only the master, Gu Lun, could understand his thoughts. After all, this spear technique had been passed down to Yang Zheng by Gu Lun himself. Gu Lun often sighed, saying that the Long Spear art, one of the two "Peerless" skills of the Gu Clan, could only be inherited by an outsider.

Because of this, Yang Zheng was fiercely loyal to the Gu family. As long as he was there, he would never allow anyone to harm the young master or the young miss.

The two men in black closed in.

Yang Zheng thrust his spear twice in such rapid succession that it seemed as if he had struck both men at the exact same moment.

One man in black fell from his horse without a sound. The other let out a miserable cry, swayed a few times, but miraculously did not fall. He clamped his legs against his mount, hunched low, and fled toward the west.

Yang Zheng turned, held his spear with one hand, and aimed for a moment before throwing it with force. The spear, over a zhang long, shot out straight, as steady and swift as a javelin.

Thirty paces away, the man in black was pierced through the chest by the Long Spear and dropped to the ground like a ragdoll.

"Master Yang!" Gu Shenwei called out, filled with both surprise and admiration. "Teach me the spear technique!"

"Thrust at a target five hundred times a day. After three years, you will achieve minor success. Then, thrust a thousand times a day. Persist for ten years, and the spear technique will be mastered."

"Then I might as well practice Hehe Jin; it'll be even more powerful after ten years."

"Hmm, that works too." Yang Zheng walked over to the corpse, pulled out his Long Spear, wiped the bloodstains off on the man's clothes, swung onto his horse, and continued the journey. He paid no mind to the young master's enthusiasm, treating it just like the three corpses left behind on the road.

Hehe Jin was the Gu family's ancestral internal force. It had always been passed down to sons, not daughters, and kept within the family rather than taught to outsiders. It was immensely powerful and served as the foundation of the Gu Clan's martial arts. Even though Yang Zheng was deeply trusted by Gu Lun, he had never been taught it.

Gu Shenwei had been practicing Hehe Jin since he was a few years old. Nearly ten years had passed, yet he remained stuck at the very first level of entry, setting the record for the slowest progress among all the descendants in the Gu family's history.

The five of them continued on. Gu Shenwei was very interested in the origins of the bandits, but Yang Zheng remained silent. He had no choice but to discuss it eagerly with the little book boy, Mingxiang, while his elder sister, Cuilan, and the maid, Juxiang, slowly recovered from their fright and occasionally chimed in.

After an hour of discussion, Gu Shenwei's enthusiasm died down, but Yang Zheng suddenly spoke up:

"His martial arts were very good."

"Whose?" Gu Shenwei asked, surprised.

"The one who almost got away."

"Him? I thought he was mediocre. He didn't even get a single move off before you pierced him through, Master. No, wait—his martial arts were indeed good, but our Gu Clan spear technique is even stronger, right?"

"Heh."

Yang Zheng did not continue the argument. In duels between experts, victory or death is often decided within a few moves. A person who is defeated in one move is not necessarily much worse than the one who wins in one; in a different time or place, the situation might be reversed. The subtlety of this was difficult to explain to an outsider. Although Gu Shenwei carried the surname Gu and had been practicing the family martial arts for quite some time, he had never truly entered the inner sanctum and was still considered an "outsider."

After walking for another stretch, the sky began to darken. Yang Zheng finally agreed to stop and rest. With no villages or inns in sight, the "rest" was nothing more than sitting for a moment on some roadside stones.

After a day of rushing, Gu Shenwei was exhausted. He leaned against his sister, while Mingxiang and Juxiang retrieved dry rations and water from their packs to serve their masters.

Yang Zheng ate only a few mouthfuls, frequently glancing toward the east and maintaining the utmost vigilance.

Gu Shenwei felt that Master Yang's excessive caution was unnecessary. Master Yang had not only learned his spear techniques from his father but had also inherited his rigid personality. With three corpses lying on the road, who would dare to pursue them further?

"Young Master Huan, there is a rather important task. I wonder if you are willing to take it on?" In the Gu household, only Yang Zheng addressed Gu Shenwei as "Young Master Huan."

"I'm willing! I'm willing! Does it involve killing bandits?" Gu Shenwei jumped up, excited.

"Yes, but this task will not be easy. You don't have to force yourself, Young Master Huan."

"The harder, the better," Gu Shenwei said proudly, gripping the hilt of his sword.

"I need you to ride at full speed and go to Shule City to bring back reinforcements."

"Reinforcements? Aren't the bandits already dead?"

"There may be more bandits coming after us."

"Master can take one out with a single thrust of his spear, and I... I can take one out with two strikes of my sword. We'll kill them all."

"But there are many of them. With just the two of us, it will be difficult to ensure the safety of the Miss."

Gu Shenwei glanced at his sister, Cuilan. "That makes sense. I'll go. Who should I look for? The King?"

"No, go to Shule City and find Marshal Yang. Just tell him that Yang Zheng requests his aid, and he will understand."

"Alright, alright."

Gu Shenwei stood up, ready to mount his horse, but Yang Zheng grabbed him. "Trade clothes with Mingxiang. Your current outfit isn't suitable for riding at full speed."

The more formal Yang Zheng's arrangements were, the more excited Gu Shenwei became. Mingxiang, however, was somewhat reluctant, but the young master dragged him off to a distance to swap clothes.

The only thing that displeased Gu Shenwei was that Yang Zheng also confiscated his short sword, claiming he wouldn't need it on the road. "Head straight west. Ride hard, and you can reach Shule City in a day and a night."

Gu Shenwei jumped onto the horse, his fatigue from the day vanishing without a trace. He flashed a brilliant smile at his sister. "Wait for me to return with reinforcements!"

At this moment, he was still so innocent. He didn't ask for details, and he didn't even consider that he was carrying nothing with him, or how he would manage his food and drink along the way.

The young master of the Gu family rode further and further away, gradually becoming a tiny black dot on the horizon. Cuilan watched her brother's figure until he disappeared, then suddenly sighed. "I hope the horse runs fast enough. I hope he does not look back."

Yang Zheng's expression shifted slightly. Although the Miss was young and gentle in nature, she was quite perceptive. She had seen much, and she already understood seven or eight parts of the situation.

"Please forgive me, Miss. This old servant has racked his brains, but this is the only way to save one person," Yang Zheng said, kneeling on one knee, his voice filled with sorrow.

"Please rise, Uncle Yang. To save my brother is to save the entire Gu family. What sin could there possibly be in that?"

The little book boy Mingxiang and the maid Juxiang looked at each other, not understanding what the Miss was talking about, yet feeling deeply uneasy.