Two days later, a grim atmosphere hung over the military camp. Constable Chen Qingzhou wore a grave expression as he summoned the surviving constables of Chun'an County and the newly arrived elite troops. They gathered inside a temporary council tent made of cowhide. The air reeked of leather, sweat, and rust, and felt so heavy it could almost be wrung out like water.
At the head of the gathering stood a burly, middle-aged officer clad in fine scale armor: Zhao Meng, the commander of the garrison. His cultivation was unmistakably at the peak of Ninth Rank. His blood and qi seemed to shimmer faintly beyond his body, forming an invisible pressure. Beside him stood a young officer with an arrogant face and sharp eyes: Sun Gan, the deputy commander. He, too, gave off the aura of a Ninth Rank martial artist. Sun Gan's gaze swept over Chen Qingzhou and the constables behind him, most of whom hadn't even reached a rank. A contemptuous sneer tugged at his lips, as if he were looking at a pack of deadweight.
"Constable Chen," Zhao Meng said, his voice booming with the briskness of a soldier, "intelligence confirms that the bandit chief, 'Black Wind Fiend' Zhang Kui, is a Ninth Rank martial artist. He's been entrenched on Black Wind Ridge for years, terrorizing the region. His second-in-command, 'Ghost Hand' Liu San, is of unknown strength, but there are rumors he once held his own against a Ninth Rank martial artist. To ensure nothing goes wrong, I'll need you to join me in taking down Zhang Kui during the raid." He paused and turned to Sun Gan. "Deputy Commander Sun, Liu San is yours. Capture or kill him, but don't underestimate that wily bastard."
Sun Gan cupped his fists, his gesture perfunctory, his tone impatient. "Rest assured, Commander. He's just a second-in-command. How much stock can we put in rumors? Even if he does have a little skill, he won't cause trouble. As for the rest..." He glanced at the constables, especially Ye Yun, whose face still bore the sickly pallor of a man recovering from grave injuries. "Have them circle around the perimeter. Just tell them not to get in the way. A pack of useless fools who haven't even sensed Essence Qi would only be marching to their deaths if they went in."
His words stung. Several young constables flushed red and tightened their grips on their sword hilts. Chen Qingzhou's eyes turned cold, but he held his tongue and merely said, "We'll follow Commander Zhao's arrangements. Deputy Commander Sun, the battlefield can change in an instant. I hope you'll exercise caution."
Ye Yun stood at the edge of the crowd, his gaze lowered. He seemed not to have recovered from his serious injuries, his breath weak. But his mind was clear as a mirror: three Ninth Rank experts—Zhao Meng, Sun Gan, and Chen Qingzhou—along with more than a hundred well-trained troops and constables, against a few dozen ragtag bandits whose only known Ninth Rank fighter was their leader. By all appearances, it should have been a crushing victory. Yet after that strange bandit-hunting mission, unease still lingered in his heart.
At dawn the next day, their grim determination surged skyward. The great force swept toward the depths of Black Wind Ridge like a black flood. The bandits' stronghold was built against the mountain, with crude wooden palisades and only a few figures on the watchtowers. It looked poorly guarded.
The battle erupted without warning. Zhao Meng charged at the head of the force, heading straight for the largest wooden building at the center of the stronghold. A towering figure, built like an iron pagoda, charged out with a wild laugh. It was the bandit chief, "Black Wind Fiend" Zhang Kui! He wielded a heavy-backed ghost-head saber, his blood and qi surging like waves. He, too, was at the peak of Ninth Rank! The moment they clashed, the clang of metal rang deafeningly, their force blasted outward, and dust billowed through the air. Zhao Meng's face changed. Zhang Kui's strength was ferocious, his saber work brutal—he was already pressing Zhao Meng back!
"Constable Chen, help me!" Zhao Meng roared.
Chen Qingzhou flashed forward like lightning, his sword leaping from its sheath in a streak of icy light. He joined the battle in an instant. Only with the combined strength of two Ninth Rank experts could they barely withstand Zhang Kui's ferocity, and the fight settled into a stalemate.
At the same time, Sun Gan had already fixed his sights on a lean, tall figure trying to slip away along the flank—the second-in-command, "Ghost Hand" Liu San. A bloodthirsty glint flashed in Sun Gan's eyes. "Bandit, you're not getting away!" he barked, shooting after him like an arrow loosed from a bow. Ye Yun's heart stirred. Something about the direction and speed of Liu San's escape felt deliberate. He forced himself to draw a deep breath and quietly followed. His duty as a constable and the doubts nagging at him drove him on.
Liu San bounded through the mountain woods, moving so fast that he drew Sun Gan away from the main battlefield and deep into a shadowy pine forest. The light was dim beneath the trees, and pine needles blanketed the ground, muffling every step. Ye Yun stayed well behind, hiding among the trees.
In a clearing ahead, Liu San suddenly stopped and slowly turned around. The panic he'd shown while fleeing was gone, replaced by a sinister smirk.
"Hmph. You're courting death, fool. You really think I was afraid of you?" Liu San's voice was hoarse with mockery.
Sun Gan caught up and saw his opponent had stopped. He sneered. "Save the tricks! Die!" He flicked his spear, spinning out several spear blossoms, then thrust straight at Liu San's vitals with a sharp whistle. The might of a Ninth Rank martial artist was on full display. Cold light shimmered at the spearhead, as if it could tear the air apart.
Yet Liu San didn't dodge or retreat from the lethal attack. The smirk on his lips only grew more sinister. Just as the spearhead was about to reach him, he suddenly dropped low and slid across the ground like a ghost. At the same time, his right hand swept across his waist, and a cold glimmer, almost too swift for the eye to catch, silently tore through the air!
"What?!" Sun Gan's pupils shrank. He was horrified! He hadn't expected his opponent to move so fast or strike with such vicious precision. The glimmer was too quick. Before he could even think to dodge, his throat felt cold!
"Pfft!"
The faint sound of a blade sinking into flesh rang out. Sun Gan's charge came to an abrupt halt, and his spear clattered to the ground. He clutched his throat with both hands, blood gushing between his fingers. His eyes brimmed with disbelief and terror, and a wet, breathless "hkk, hkk" rasp escaped his throat. He stared at Liu San, swayed, and crashed to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Crouched behind a thick pine, Ye Yun's heart nearly leaped from his chest. He was ice-cold all over. He'd seen clearly: the weapon was a strangely shaped flying knife, thin as a cicada's wing, with bizarre feather-like markings carved into its tail. Fast! Accurate! Deadly! This was no ordinary concealed weapon, but a terrifying killing move that could threaten an 8th Rank martial artist. Liu San, the second-in-command, was also a Ninth Rank martial artist, one who'd hidden his strength deeply—and he had mastered a fearsome Flying Knife Technique!
Liu San strolled over to Sun Gan's body, bent down, and pulled out the bloodied flying knife. He casually wiped it on the dead man's clothes. His cold gaze swept across the surroundings like a snake flicking its tongue.
"You've been watching long enough, little mouse. Why don't you come out?" Liu San's taunting voice rang out, aimed straight at Ye Yun's hiding place.
Ye Yun took a deep breath, forcing down the churning blood and qi. There was no point hiding anymore. He slowly stepped out from behind the tree and held his saber across his chest. Mottled specks of light filtering through the forest reflected on the blade, which trembled slightly. It wasn't fear; it was his body's instinctive reaction.
"Oh? A little constable? And one who hasn't even reached a rank?" Liu San saw Ye Yun clearly, and the contempt in his eyes deepened. "Perfect. I'll send you to the Yellow Springs with that fool!" Before the words had left his mouth, he flicked his wrist. Another streak of cold light shot out, aimed straight at Ye Yun's heart. It was every bit as fast as the one that had killed Sun Gan!
Ye Yun's pupils contracted. Every muscle in his body tensed in an instant. He didn't dare hold anything back. He pushed the heightened perception he'd gained after his soul fusion to its limit, tracking the deadly glimmer's path. Acting on instinct, he drove the basic saber technique he'd practiced for years to its utmost, sweeping his blade through a hair's breadth of space to block it with all his strength!
"Clang—!"
A shrill clash of metal exploded! A mighty force surged along the blade. Ye Yun's palm went numb, his entire right arm trembled, and he had to stagger back one step before he could steady himself.
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