Chen Jing Takes Off Running

The mountain wilderness on a winter morning was pierced by bone-chilling wind.

A thin layer of white frost coated the withered grass by the roadside.

The white vapor Chen Jing breathed out drifted before his eyes, yet his steps only grew faster.

Without thinking, he followed the footwork of the Fierce Tiger Stance. His body rose and fell, his waist and hips loose and grounded, each step planting steadily upon the earth.

As he walked, he looked less like a traveler hurrying along than a fierce tiger patrolling through the mountain forests.

This way of walking was not much slower than normal walking, yet every step counted as stance training, and his proficiency steadily climbed bit by bit.

By the time he saw the cooking smoke of Creek River Village in the distance, the Fierce Tiger Stance proficiency on his panel had increased by another four points.

In less than an hour, he had arrived.

Creek River Village was not large.

Several dozen households were scattered along a small stream.

A few children playing at the village entrance saw Chen Jing approaching with a White Wax Pole over his shoulder and gave him curious looks.

Chen Jing simply asked the children for directions.

Aunt Zhao's home stood on the slope north of the village. Three mud-brick houses enclosed a small courtyard, and faded door gods were pasted upon its gate.

Hearing the commotion, Aunt Zhao came out to greet him. She wore a blue cloth apron, her hair was combed immaculately, and she was full of vigor.

The moment she saw Chen Jing, she broke into a smile.

"Oh my, Xiao Jing! Where is your master?"

"His cough has flared up, so he couldn't leave the house. He sent me instead."

Chen Jing entered the courtyard and leaned the White Wax Pole against the base of the wall. "Aunt Zhao, where's your pig?"

"No rush, no rush. Come inside and have a bowl of noodles first. You've traveled so far in this freezing weather—you must be hungry."

Without giving him a chance to refuse, Aunt Zhao pulled Chen Jing into the kitchen and brought out a steaming bowl of noodles.

A glistening layer of oil floated atop the soup.

The bowl was heaped full with minced-meat topping.

Chen Jing did not stand on ceremony. He slurped it all down, warmth spreading through his entire body. Setting the bowl aside, he wiped his mouth.

Then he grabbed the Butcher Knife and got to work.

Aunt Zhao's pigsty was in the backyard. The spotted pig had been raised fat and sturdy, weighing at least one hundred and forty or fifty jin.

Chen Jing slaughtered it cleanly and efficiently, taking less than half an hour from start to finish.

Aunt Zhao watched from the side, praising him nonstop.

"Xiao Jing, your skills are almost catching up to your master's. Old Zhang really picked up a fine apprentice."

Chen Jing merely smiled and said nothing.

He divided up the pork and hung it beneath the eaves.

After asking Aunt Zhao which other families in the village needed their New Year pigs slaughtered, he rushed without stopping to the next house.

Though Creek River Village was small, every household raised pigs, and all of them were waiting to slaughter them in these final days before the New Year.

Thus, Chen Jing's work came one batch after another. His feet never stopped moving, and he worked straight through until nightfall.

He had already slaughtered eleven pigs, leaving his back sore and his waist aching.

Yet when he saw the tremendous increase in proficiency on his panel, Chen Jing felt that none of the hardship had gone to waste.

That night, Aunt Zhao prepared a side room for him. After supper, Chen Jing stood in the Fierce Tiger Stance in his room for an hour. Unable to hold on any longer, he went to sleep.

The next morning, Chen Jing wandered through the village again, asking from door to door whether anyone needed their New Year pig slaughtered.

Several families who had originally planned to do it themselves had heard the day before that a nimble young butcher had arrived.

So they handed the work over to him as well.

Chen Jing worked from dawn until afternoon and slaughtered another ten pigs.

After two days, the New Year pig business in Creek River Village was essentially all finished.

Standing beneath the old locust tree at the village entrance, he counted the gains from this trip. His Pig-Slaughtering Blade Technique proficiency had risen by a full 105 points—equivalent to working four or five days at the butcher shop.

This trip had been worthwhile.

It was just a pity that such good fortune did not come every day.

Seeing the sun begin to sink toward the western peaks, Chen Jing put away his Butcher Knife, gripped the White Wax Pole in hand, and bid Aunt Zhao farewell.

Aunt Zhao stuffed a packet of cured meat and several warm multigrain pancakes into his hands for the road, and also had him bring New Year goods to Butcher Zhang.

Chen Jing agreed to everything.

Then he turned and left the village, following the mountain path back the way he had come.

Winter nights came early. Though the sun had not yet set, the light dimmed the moment he entered the woods.

Chen Jing rested the White Wax Pole on his shoulder.

His steps followed the rhythm of the Fierce Tiger Stance, his body rising and falling.

His blood and qi churned within him, and his Perception became exceptionally sharp.

After walking about a li from the village, Chen Jing's hairs suddenly stood on end. He had an instinctive feeling that someone was watching him.

Chen Jing neither turned around nor looked about.

His right hand quietly tightened around the White Wax Pole, while his left touched the handle of the Butcher Knife at the small of his back. Without slowing, he continued onward.

Yet his ears frantically caught every sound around him.

The wind swept through the treetops with a rustling roar.

Crows cawed noisily in the distance.

Then Chen Jing heard it—a faint sound of a dry branch snapping, somewhere behind and to his left.

Those were not the footsteps of a wild beast. Wild beasts would not deliberately tread lightly, nor would they suddenly stop after snapping a branch.

It was a person.

Chen Jing suddenly broke into a run!

The moment he ran, chaos erupted behind him.

A flurry of furious curses came from deep in the forest. "How did he spot us?" "It must be because you didn't hide properly!" "Quit talking nonsense! Chase him! He's alone!"

Without looking back, Chen Jing flung his legs wide and sprinted madly.

After his stance training reached minor accomplishment, his stamina far surpassed that of an ordinary person. Holding his breath, he could run two or three li in one burst without even panting.

The curses behind him grew more and more distant, gradually swallowed by the wind.

But Chen Jing did not stop. He only slowed once he could see the entrance to Shuang'an Town.

Leaning against a tree, he gulped down great breaths of air.

Once he had recovered, his mind began turning rapidly.

Those bandits had clearly not been crouching in the forest specifically to ambush him alone.

A butcher was not worth an ambush by bandits.

They had been lying in wait on the only road leading in and out of Creek River Village. That could mean only one thing: they had set their sights on Creek River Village.

Chen Jing's heart tightened, and he did not dare delay.

He took off running toward the town.

The moment he entered town, he headed straight for Wang Chong, who was on patrol.

"Instructor Wang!" Chen Jing grabbed Wang Chong's arm and, panting, quickly explained what had just happened.

"Bandits are lying in wait in the woods outside Creek River Village. I suspect they're planning to attack the village."

Wang Chong's expression changed instantly, and he barked sharply.

"Are you sure? Creek River Village?"

"I'm sure. I just finished slaughtering New Year pigs in Creek River Village and was on my way back. They meant to kill me, but I discovered them and escaped."

Wang Chong swore, lifted his iron spear, and strode toward the training ground. As he walked, he roared.

"Ring the bell! Assemble! Call everyone on duty tonight!"

"Bring your weapons!"

The bronze bell in the training ground rang out, its deep toll carrying far through the twilight.

In less than the time it took an incense stick to burn.

More than a dozen young and strong men gathered at the training ground, each clutching a staff or spear, short blades hanging from their waists.

Their faces were tense and puzzled.

Wang Chong explained the situation in a few short sentences, then said at the end.

"Creek River Village has only a few dozen households. If bandits really sneak in there, they won't last half an hour."

"If we hurry there now, we still have a chance."

"Those with families stay behind to guard the town. Those without, come with me!"

In the end, thirteen sturdy men were selected. Together with Wang Chong and Chen Jing, there were fifteen in total.

Just as they were about to set off, a burly figure charged out from an alley.

Butcher Zhang held a Bone-Carving Knife in his hand. His face was black as the bottom of a pot, and his chest heaved violently. He had clearly run all the way here.

"I'm going too!"

"Old Zhang, your cough..." Wang Chong frowned.

"Cough my ass!"

Butcher Zhang chopped his blade into a nearby wooden post, burying a third of the blade within it. "Quit the nonsense! Move out!"

Wang Chong nodded.

The group of sixteen raised torches and raced through the night toward Creek River Village.

Chen Jing ran within the group, gripping the White Wax Pole and keeping beside Butcher Zhang. Seeing the tension on his face.

He kept muttering inwardly as well, hoping they would make it in time.

When the group reached outside Creek River Village, they saw soaring flames in the distance. Houses had been set ablaze.

Orange-red tongues of fire licked at the night sky. Amid the blaze, they could faintly hear weeping, screams, and the furious roars and cries of battle.