Nothing More Than This

The rich reek of wine mingled with the sharp stink of blood, spreading through the room.

The newcomer flicked his blade, scattering drops of blood onto the floor. He wore a fitted black martial outfit that made his figure look tall and straight, his bamboo hat pressed low to hide his brows and eyes. Only the corner of his mouth showed, holding a teasing smile.

"Hong Yuan?!"

Meng Yue gripped his steel saber tightly in his right hand, keeping a stance that would let him strike at any moment. His eyes, startled and uncertain, fixed on the man before him as his expression changed drastically.

Hong Yuan slowly raised his head, revealing the face beneath the bamboo hat. His gaze met Meng Yue's, and he said with a faint smile, "Junior Brother, you're always so respectful to me, your senior brother. Why are you calling me by name now? Does this count as what they call in the operas—one face outside, another inside, a man with two tongues and three knives?"

Meng Yue's face turned ugly. His gaze passed beyond Hong Yuan's figure and saw that the three ruffians who had gone outside to piss were already sprawled across the ground, savage gashes opened in their throats. Just like the few ruffians inside who had still been sober, two or three of their bodies were still twitching, but in truth they had already set foot on the road to the Yellow Springs.

Of the dozen or so drunken ruffians left, several had been shocked half sober by this sudden slaughter. Utterly terrified, they struggled to their feet, trying to grope for the weapons they had lost somewhere. But their bones were limp, their legs weak, and after this fright, each of them had barely stood before collapsing again, screaming "ah, ah" in fear, their reason completely gone.

Fortunately, this small courtyard stood in a quiet part of the county town. These ruffians usually drank and made merry here often enough, raising an endless racket, and the people around were quite afraid of them. Even if the noise reached the street, no one would meddle in other people's business.

"Too damn noisy!"

With a shhk as the blade split the air, Meng Yue flipped the long saber in his hand upward in a reverse sweep, slicing across the neck of a ruffian beside him who was wailing wildly. Blood sprayed out, and the other screaming ruffians were scared into sudden silence, like ducks whose throats had been seized.

And the shock, panic, and all the other negative emotions on Meng Yue's body seemed to vent out with that one stroke.

His expression gradually grew calm and composed. His eyes turned sharp as a hawk's, locking straight onto Hong Yuan's figure. Suddenly, he let out a low laugh, which then became loud laughter.

"Junior Brother, what's so funny? Tell your senior brother, and we brothers can have a laugh together!" Hong Yuan said unhurriedly.

"I'm laughing at how stupid you are!" Meng Yue's laughter stopped at once, and he stared coldly at Hong Yuan. "I don't know when I left a flaw and let you seize on my weakness. That was my mistake. I underestimated you too much!"

His voice paused, and ridicule crossed his face. "But since you already noticed, why didn't you tell Yang Erhu? If the two of you joined hands and suddenly made a move, I would have had no power to resist. Yet you just had to be stupid enough to follow me alone, and even stand right in front of me as bold as brass?"

Meng Yue's eyes swept over the ruffians on the ground, and he said flatly, "Or do you think that killing these pieces of trash with a sneak attack is enough to scare me, Meng Yue?"

He slowly raised his steel saber, holding it level before his chest. The snow-bright blade reflected a pair of eyes brimming with killing intent.

"Or did that last exchange make you fall under the illusion that I was only so-so?"

Hong Yuan smiled. "From what Junior Brother is saying, you hid your strength during that exchange?"

"Heh heh!" Meng Yue's cheek twitched, and he laughed without emotion. Immediately, killing intent spilled out from him. "You'll know soon enough!"

Before his words had faded, Meng Yue's feet moved in quick succession. His body turned with astonishing speed, and in an instant he arrived beside a wine table.

The ruffians in the room had been feasting and drinking for a long time. Cups and plates lay in disorder all over the table, and a pot of wine was still being warmed on the small brazier in the center. Now that the drinkers were sprawled everywhere, the wine in the pot was still going "gurgle, gurgle" without stopping.

Meng Yue spun over in a rush and suddenly kicked out. The whole table crashed with a wild clatter; cups, plates, bowls, dishes, leftovers, cold scraps, and the small brazier all flew up with a whoosh, pouring in one lump toward Hong Yuan.

At the same time, that wine table also spun sharply through the air, kicked by Meng Yue's powerful foot into tumbling straight at Hong Yuan.

The wine table violently struck the air, giving off a piercing shriek.

Meng Yue's face was cold and stern. As the wine table rose into the air, his body stuck close behind it and rushed in. His right hand held the long saber in a reverse grip, the strength inside his body surging as he stored up power, ready to burst out.

Meng Yue had seen Hong Yuan's strength and knew that in terms of raw power, he could not match the other man. But that did not damage his confidence in the slightest.

In a true life-and-death fight on a hair's breadth, what one relied on had never been strength. No matter how great the strength, if it failed to hit the person, it was all in vain.

The sect he came from had never been one that built carts behind closed doors. Nearly all of its outstanding disciples had experience fighting in the jianghu or in the army.

And Meng Yue was one of the best among them.

Before coming to Yangquan County and joining the Yang Family Martial Arts Hall, he had challenged many skilled fighters of the jianghu, and had even tempered himself in the army for several years. Could the experience and skills gained between life and death really fail to deal with that delicate, pretty-faced "boy toy" across from him?

Perhaps this Hong Yuan really was someone Yang Erhu had painstakingly cultivated, but how many people had he killed? How many battles had he experienced?

Whoosh!

A streak of saber light swept up, knocking aside all the assorted debris that came smashing over—cups, plates, bowls, dishes, brazier, and everything else.

"He really is a greenhorn. At a time like this, he's still afraid of dirtying his clothes." A cold gleam flashed in Meng Yue's eyes. As the debris flew and the wine table smashed down toward Hong Yuan's head, he let out a fierce shout, and the long saber in his reverse grip slashed diagonally upward from below.

The saber light was icy and grim, its momentum like violent lightning and swift thunder. It was clearly meant to split the wine table and Hong Yuan together into two halves with one stroke.

Riiip!

In an instant, the wine table was cut diagonally into two halves, the two severed sections flying to either side. But Meng Yue's pupils contracted. No feeling of the long saber entering flesh came through his palm. Directly ahead, Hong Yuan's figure was already gone.

Whoosh!

A thread of forceful wind came at his face. Meng Yue only felt a chill between his brows, and from the corner of his eye he saw that Hong Yuan had, at some unknown moment, leaped into the air, even higher than Meng Yue himself. With one saber, Hong Yuan struck down from midair, cleaving straight at his skull.

The speed was not at all inferior to Meng Yue's earlier strike; if anything, it was even fiercer.

Meng Yue had no choice but to lean his body backward, suddenly gripping the saber hilt with both left and right hands as he countered upward with one slash.

With a resounding clang, the two sabers struck each other. Meng Yue's body shook violently. He only felt tearing pain in the web of his hand, and his feet could not stand steady. He retreated explosively, thump, thump, thump, toward the back.

Meng Yue's expression changed in horror. This force was far stronger than he had expected. Knowing things were bad, he forcibly stamped one foot down, stopping his stumbling body.

Blood seeped from his palm, yet he still held the steel saber firmly, wanting to fight again. From the diagonal side, a kick came hurtling in. Meng Yue had nowhere to dodge, and it landed squarely in his chest.

In that instant, his chest filled with violent pain, his spine arched, and the force brought by that kick seemed to strike from his chest all the way through to his back. Meng Yue's entire body was flung backward.

Bang!

Meng Yue's body smashed heavily down, just happening to shatter another wine table in the room into pieces. Leftovers and cold scraps poured down, drenching his head and face. The scalding brazier landed on him all at once, and the charcoal fire spilled into the area of his neck. Together with the excruciating pain of cracked bones in his chest, it immediately made him scream miserably as he struggled, wanting to get away.

Pfft!

A streak of saber light fell, stabbing straight into the center of Meng Yue's right palm. Hong Yuan's slender figure entered Meng Yue's eyes, the other man looking down at him from above. A light, airy sentence fell from his lips: "You really are only so-so!"