"Where do you think you're going!" Murong Feiyan snapped. She sprang into the air, tapped the fence lightly with her toes, and launched herself higher. After three forward somersaults, she kicked a black-clad rider off his black steed as she landed, seized his mount, and galloped at full speed in the direction Mo Shaolin had fled.
Although Hu Xiaotian admitted that Murong Feiyan's string of somersaults was a pleasure to watch, he could hardly compliment the woman's brains. She could clearly have handled this more cleverly and neatly, yet she had chosen the most difficult approach. Damn it, did women in this era all hate using their brains? Did they have to fight and kill, solving everything with brute force?
Meanwhile, the groom inside the paddock slowly climbed onto a horse covered in mud. The muck was so thick that its original coat color was impossible to make out. It suited him perfectly; his clothes were likewise so muddy that their original color was unrecognizable. Raising his whip, the groom shouted, "Hyah!" His voice rang out with surprising vigor. The horse lifted its head, lengthened its stride, and charged straight toward Hu Xiaotian.
Hu Xiaotian inwardly cried out in alarm. Li Jinhao and Shao Yijiao were still on the other side of the paddock. Seeing the groom ride toward Hu Xiaotian, they immediately sensed trouble. Li Jinhao pulled a hitching post out of the ground and hurled it with all his strength. The post was as thick as a thigh, and in his hands it flew as though fired from a powerful bow or crossbow, hurtling toward the groom's back with a whoosh!
The groom did not even turn around. With a flick of his hand, his long whip swept behind him like lightning. Crack! It struck the hitching post dead on and sent it spinning sideways toward Li Jinhao and Shao Yijiao. Terrified, both men hastily ducked. The post whooshed over their heads and smashed into the fence behind them, breaking through it-a testament to the astonishing force of that lash. Seeing the opening, the horses in the paddock scrambled over one another to escape through it.
Shao Yijiao had barely climbed to his feet before a horse knocked him down again. Li Jinhao fared little better, dodging left and right as he threaded his way through the herd.
The people nearby scattered in fright as the horses came charging out. Seizing the moment, Hu Xiaotian fled with the crowd beside him toward a more densely packed throng. The groom roared, "Where do you think you're going?" He flicked his whip into a loop and sent it reaching forward. Like a living snake, it coiled around Hu Xiaotian's right foot. One tug pulled him off balance and sent him crashing to the ground. Before he could get up, the groom galloped past him, dragging him through the mud by his right leg.
Hu Xiaotian was furious with himself. It was still the same trick of making a noise in the east and striking in the west. They had focused their attention on Mo Shaolin, who had exploited that very mindset to draw Murong Feiyan away. Then the seemingly ordinary groom had seized the opportunity to attack. Their real target had been Hu Xiaotian all along.
Dragged along by the whip, Hu Xiaotian did not lose his composure despite the danger. He drew the dagger he carried at his waist and tried to cut through the long lash wound around his leg.
Liang Dazhuang and the other three household servants had been waiting where they were. They now saw a rider galloping toward them, dragging someone behind his long whip. It was their young master, Hu Xiaotian.
The servants could hardly stand by at such a sight. Hastily grabbing their weapons, they rushed forward, trying to block the rider's path.
The rider snorted coldly and flicked his whip, lifting Hu Xiaotian's entire body off the ground. Hu Xiaotian shot into the air. Terrified out of his wits, he dropped his dagger and clutched his head with both hands. My life is over! he cried inwardly.
The whip slipped free of Hu Xiaotian's right leg, but his body continued flying toward the rider. The man caught him and casually tapped his chest. Hu Xiaotian immediately felt numb and weak all over; the bastard must have sealed his acupoints. The rider laid him across the horse's back, then sent his long whip dancing in every direction, its cracks ringing out without pause.
Before Liang Dazhuang and the other three servants could even get close to the horse, the whip struck them and knocked them to the ground. The rider shouted, and his mount instantly picked up speed. About ten feet from the carriage ahead, it thrust its hind legs against the ground and sprang into the air. All four hooves left the road as it cleared the carriage with an astonishing leap, broke through the servants' blockade, and galloped toward the southern entrance of Camel Street.
Hu Xiaotian lay across the horse's back, his body jolting with every stride. Unfortunately, his limbs were completely numb and would not respond at all. At least his mind remained clear. These bandits were outrageously brazen, daring to abduct him in broad daylight, right in front of Murong Feiyan.
A sharp feminine shout suddenly sounded nearby. Realizing that she had fallen for their trick of luring the tiger away from its mountain, Murong Feiyan had returned. She held the reins in one hand and raised her sword high in the other, her teeth clenched almost to the breaking point, her lovely eyes brimming with murderous intent. She had only pursued Mo Shaolin a short distance when Hu Xiaotian was abducted behind her. The moment she realized she had been set up, she abandoned the pursuit, wheeled her horse around, and came to rescue Hu Xiaotian.
The rider's skinny, mud-covered horse looked frail, yet even carrying two people, it still ran like the wind. Murong Feiyan pursued relentlessly. One behind the other, they charged onto Sunset Street, the longest street in Kang Capital, known to the locals as the Ten-Li Street.
The sky, which had only just cleared, was suddenly blanketed by heavy black clouds. A dazzling bolt of lightning twisted through them, followed at once by an explosive peal of thunder.
A figure raced and leaped along the rooftops on the right side of the long street. At last, he stopped and took the longbow from his back. The horn bow was five feet three inches long, made from ox horn, a bamboo-and-wood core, ox sinew, and animal glue. Its draw weight exceeded two stone-in other words, without two hundred jin of strength, no one could draw such a powerful bow.
The birch arrow shaft was two feet long, its head forged from refined steel. Beneath the cloud-choked sky, the arrowhead gleamed darkly with a chilling light. Rain suddenly began to fall, thick and close, shrouding heaven and earth. Mo Shaolin stood motionless on the rooftop beside the long street, like a statue cast from iron. His bow was bent into a full moon, the feathered arrow poised to fly.
Through the wind and rain, hurried hoofbeats approached from the distance.
The rain had washed the rider's horse clean, stripping away its coating of mud to reveal a pure white coat. It streaked like white lightning through the rain-drenched street. Magnificent though the mount was, it still carried two grown men. A short sprint posed no problem, but after this prolonged gallop, its pace had begun to slacken.
Murong Feiyan's sword-shaped brows rose sharply. The icy gaze in her beautiful eyes cut through the layers of rain and mist like a blade, piercing straight toward the rider's back.
The rider did not look back, but the hoofbeats told him that the distance between them was shrinking. "Hyah!" he roared, his voice exploding like thunder beneath the cloud-filled sky.
At the same moment, the corner of Mo Shaolin's mouth twitched. He released his right hand, and the feathered arrow left the string with a whistle! It pierced the drifting rain and mist, cleaving the heavy gloom. Driven onward by its white fletching, the coldly gleaming arrowhead traced a straight, beautiful line through the air. Beside the arrow's tremendous speed, the falling rain suddenly seemed slow. Fast and slow, hard and soft-beneath the darkened sky, they played out a cruel beauty that shook the soul.
Blue lightning tore open the sky. For an instant, the arrowhead reflected its dazzling brilliance. That speck of light was scarcely three feet from Murong Feiyan's chest.
Swish! Her sword swept out, its cold edge chopping into the chilling arrowhead. A brilliant shower of sparks burst from the collision of sword and arrow.
Whistle! The second arrow was already flying straight toward Murong Feiyan's neck. She leaned backward and parted her cherry-red lips. As the arrow passed her face, she caught its shaft between her teeth.
Whistle! Only after two successive arrows missed did Mo Shaolin aim at the black horse beneath Murong Feiyan. He felt a deep affection for horses. Had there been any other choice, he would never have attacked such a beautiful, loyal creature.
The feathered arrow followed a curved path, striking the desperately galloping black steed from the side at a forty-five-degree angle. Its head bored through the horse's right eye and plunged deep into its skull. The black steed let out a piercing, mournful cry. Its legs buckled, and it crashed to the ground, leaving two shocking trails of blood across the bluestone road that the rain had washed clean.
The instant the arrow struck her mount, Murong Feiyan launched herself into the air. In a heartbeat, she covered fifty feet. Like a hawk swooping upon a rabbit, she plunged from the rain-lashed sky along with the downpour, her sword thrusting straight toward the back of the rider's neck.
The rider had no choice but to haul on the reins. Forcibly checked in the midst of its headlong gallop, the white steed neighed, planted its hind legs, and reared with both forelegs raised high. Hu Xiaotian was thrown from its back and slammed onto the hard bluestone road. The impact nearly knocked him unconscious. With his acupoints sealed, however, he could only lie stiff and motionless on the ground.
The rider swung his long whip backward. Its tip lashed through the rain with a piercing shriek. Meeting the sword, the whip wound around it coil after coil, using the blade as its axis. Then he gave a powerful tug, trying to wrench the sword from Murong Feiyan's hand.
Instead, Murong Feiyan used his pull to launch herself toward him. Woman and sword became one, her entire body like a keen blade drawn from its sheath, thrusting straight toward his chest and abdomen.
The rider knew he was in trouble the moment he saw her charging toward him. He had no choice but to abandon his whip and tumble off the horse. Only that desperate, ungainly maneuver saved him from Murong Feiyan's lethal strike.
Murong Feiyan seized the white steed, shook the reins, and galloped toward Hu Xiaotian. Her most urgent task was to get him to safety first.
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