Once everyone had gathered, Liao Xu took a hand-drawn map from inside his robe and spread it across his saddle.
The paper was coarse and the ink lines careless, but the layout of Stonebridge Village was clearly marked.
"Stonebridge Village has been abandoned for three years. This map was left from back then."
Liao Xu tapped the northern side of the map with a knuckle. "Seventeen houses, with one main road running north to south. According to our intelligence, remnants of the Nine Evil Sect are hiding in the Ancestral Hall at the north end. Seven to ten people."
"Their leader is a qi-blood third level deacon, with two at qi-blood second level. The rest are mostly at blood qi first stage or ordinary followers."
His fingertip traced several small paths as he gave his orders. "Zhan Zhi, Song Wu, and I will enter the Ancestral Hall from the front."
"Zhao He, Shen Qingyue, flank them from the east and west."
"As for our three Patrol Captains..."
Liao Xu looked up at Yi Yang and the other two. His words were courteous, but the distance in them was unmistakable. "Please set up checkpoints in three directions outside the village and intercept any fleeing followers."
Zhang Li nodded at once, thoroughly pleased with the arrangement. "Understood. Guard the exits."
"No problem," Zhu Yuanshan said as well.
Yi Yang gathered his sleeves and asked only one question.
"What if the followers are stronger than the intelligence suggests?"
Liao Xu looked at him for two breaths, clearly displeased with this thorn in his side. "The source is reliable."
After a pause, he added another sentence.
"If something really does go wrong, you three may withdraw on your own. No need to linger in battle."
The words sounded gracious. Translated into plain speech, they meant: just don't get in our way.
Zhang Li gave a strained smile and did not argue.
Just then, Yi Zhanzhi suddenly spoke. "Senior Brother Liao, leave that deacon to me."
The youth's voice was clear and bright, his sharp edge laid bare. Standing beneath the moon, he resembled a freshly honed blade, eager to find a bone and test its hardness.
Liao Xu frowned.
"You only recently broke through to the third level. Don't rush in."
Yi Zhanzhi gripped his saber's hilt and thrust out his chest.
"That's exactly why I need the tempering of real combat."
"Don't worry, Senior Brother. If anything goes wrong, you'll still have time to finish him off."
Song Wu grinned. "Junior Brother Zhan Zhi has spirit. That's how young men should be. Unlike certain people, who think about running before the fighting even starts."
He named no names, but even the grass knew which way the wind was blowing.
Yi Zhanzhi turned his head, his sidelong gaze sweeping over Yi Yang.
He did not even try to hide his smugness as he thought, See? This is what a martial artist looks like. This is confidence.
Yi Yang brushed the dust from his cuff and ignored him.
Liao Xu considered it for a moment, then finally nodded.
"All right."
"But retreat immediately if something looks wrong."
Yi Zhanzhi answered crisply.
"Yes."
They set out under cover of night.
The mountain path was narrow, broken branches strewn across it, cracking underfoot.
The canopy cut the moonlight to pieces, scattering tangled patterns across the ground. A night owl called twice in the distance, its cries unsettling.
Yi Yang walked at the rear, his steps slow and his back bent, but his hearing was already stretched wide.
Ahead, Liao Xu and Yi Zhanzhi conversed quietly. They said little, but it was useful enough.
"Senior Brother, is that important figure from the Heaven Patrol Office really a Patrol Director?"
"Yes."
"In the inner qi realm?"
"Most likely."
Yi Zhanzhi lowered his voice. "If we're selected, we'll ascend to heaven in a single step."
Liao Xu did not let his ambitions soar beyond his reach. "Handle the task before us first. Only a polished record will catch anyone's eye."
Listening, Yi Yang sorted through the situation again. A director from the Heaven Patrol Office was coming, and the Thundercloud Martial Arts Hall was eager to rack up achievements.
Tang Hao had shoved their bottom-ranking Patrol Captains into the group. Besides borrowing the Thundercloud Martial Arts Hall's blade to eliminate Yi Yang, he might also be showing favor to Yi Zhanzhi, who was now a rising star in Cloud Pattern Town.
Half an hour later, they reached Stonebridge Village.
The abandoned village crouched beneath the moon like the bones of a beast picked clean.
Most of the walls had collapsed. Pitch-black window frames gaped like mouths, and weeds grew wildly from cracks in the walls. As the wind passed, their leaves rubbed together in an endless rustle.
The air smelled of mold and blood. In the direction of the Ancestral Hall to the north, points of fire flickered a dark red.
Liao Xu raised a hand, signaling everyone to stop.
"People confirmed."
"Proceed according to plan."
Zhang Li headed west, and Zhu Yuanshan went east.
Yi Yang was assigned the southern end.
Before leaving, Zhang Li leaned over with a miserable expression. "Old Man Yi, if something's really wrong, run. Don't worry about saving face."
Yi Yang glanced at him.
"You too."
Zhang Li sighed. "Running is the only thing I'm still good at in this life."
Yi Yang did not smile. Saber in hand, he entered the southern end of the village.
An old locust tree stood there, its trunk half dead. Beside it, a ruined wall rose only waist-high.
Yi Yang crouched behind the wall, his standard-issue saber resting across his knees.
The night wind threaded between the abandoned houses, carrying a stale blood stench that clung inside his nose.
Yi Yang gripped the hilt. The cord within him slowly drew taut, ready for whatever might happen.
From the northern Ancestral Hall came Liao Xu's thunderous shout.
The crash of a door breaking followed.
Wood splintered, screams tumbled over one another, and weapons collided in a chaotic clatter.
The battle had begun.
Yi Yang stayed where he was.
He briefly closed his eyes, separating the layers of noise.
The hiss of Liao Xu's sword was swift, fine, and vicious.
Yi Zhanzhi's saber rang with brute force. Brimming with youthful vigor, he pressed forward with every strike.
Song Wu's broad saber swept wide, as though pushing down walls.
Zhao He and Shen Qingyue had also charged in from the east and west.
Everything was indeed going smoothly according to plan.
Too smoothly.
The screams inside the Ancestral Hall dwindled too quickly. Ordinary followers were cut down, those at blood qi first stage were overwhelmed, and even the two at qi-blood second level did not last long.
But where was that supposed qi-blood third level deacon?
Nowhere.
Yi Yang had not heard the blood qi vibrations a third-level martial artist should produce.
It was as though a great net had been spread, yet its mesh hung empty. The most important prey had never appeared.
Hearing this, Yi Yang abruptly opened his eyes. A possibility occurred to him, and he murmured, "Have the hunter and the prey traded places?"
Inside the Ancestral Hall.
Blood dripped from Liao Xu's longsword. Seven or eight Nine Evil Sect followers lay dead at his feet.
Song Wu felled the last qi-blood second level follower with a slash and cursed. "That's it? The intelligence was pretty accurate. Not much of a force here, and their strength is pathetic."
Yi Zhanzhi pointed his saber at the ground, his chest heaving, irrepressible delight filling his face.
"The Nine Evil Sect is nothing special."
The moment he finished speaking, the Ancestral Hall's rear door creaked open.
A middle-aged man in a gray robe walked out.
His cheeks were rosy, his lips unnaturally vivid. Blood stained his gray robe, but his hands were frighteningly clean.
The newcomer was none other than Wang Gongqin, who had vanished without a trace.
A Nine Evil Sect deacon.
He looked at the corpses strewn across the floor, including two of his trusted subordinates, yet showed neither anger nor fury. Then he looked at Liao Xu and the others and smiled with evident satisfaction. "Thank you."
At his strange demeanor, Liao Xu's eyelid twitched. Sensing something wrong, he asked, "What do you mean?"
Wang Gongqin opened his palm. Blood qi flowed along its creases, coiling into the shape of a pill.
"If I killed this trash myself, they would run, beg for mercy, and spoil the refining process."
"But with your Thundercloud Martial Arts Hall doing the work, it was clean and quick. Their blood qi dispersed just right."
"This Blood Origin Pill is complete."
Liao Xu's expression darkened. He realized they had fallen into a trap.
"You used us to kill Nine Evil Sect followers so you could refine a pill from their blood qi?"
Wang Gongqin raised his head, a low chuckle rising from his throat. "It's their good fortune to give their lives for the sacred sect."
"And your good fortune to help."
Unable to stomach his air of complete confidence, Song Wu flew into a rage. Believing his own qi-blood third level strength matched the man's, he roared, "Good fortune, my ass!"
He gripped his broad saber with both hands. The bricks beneath his feet cracked as he surged forward, his blade bearing down with a shrill howl of wind.
Wang Gongqin stood without dodging.
Only when the broad saber reached him did he raise his fist.
His fist shot out.
Bang!
It struck the side of the blade.
Song Wu's broad saber bent into an exaggerated arc. He and his weapon were sent flying together, overturning the offering table in a spray of splinters.
Song Wu tumbled to the floor and vomited a great mouthful of blood, staining the front of his clothes red.
He raised his head, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints.
"Qi-blood fourth-level perfection!"
"You're not at qi-blood third level!"
Yi Zhanzhi had been about to advance, but his feet stopped.
His saber hand trembled slightly. The sharp edge he had displayed moments before was forcibly shoved back into his belly, and he looked uneasily toward his eldest senior brother.
Liao Xu also retreated half a step, holding his longsword across his chest. Sweat appeared at his temples. Qi-blood fourth-level perfection-only one step away from organ refinement.
He realized this was no whetstone for their blades. It was a monster that could bite those blades in half.
Wang Gongqin looked at them with a smile, then laughed aloud. "Why aren't you coming?"
"Don't geniuses love killing enemies above their level?"
Just then, Zhao He and Shen Qingyue rushed into the Ancestral Hall from either side.
Both their expressions changed when they saw Song Wu's grievous injuries.
With everyone assembled, Liao Xu gritted his teeth, knowing they had no way back now. "Don't fight him alone."
"He's a cultist. There's no need to follow any rules."
"Kill him together!"
The sword moved first.
Liao Xu stepped forward and thrust. His sword tip flickered into three cold stars aimed at throat, heart, and eye.
Yi Zhanzhi followed with a fierce saber stroke toward Wang Gongqin's waist and abdomen. Zhao He's short spear darted in from the side, its point targeting the joints.
Light on her feet, Shen Qingyue circled behind him and thrust her short sword at the back of his neck.
They attacked from all four sides.
Even an ordinary qi-blood fourth level fighter would have been thrown into disarray.
Wang Gongqin merely raised a hand to his chest.
He swallowed the Blood Origin Pill.
The next instant, his skin flushed red and his veins bulged. He grew half an inch taller, his shoulders and back stretching his gray robe taut.
He struck out with both palms.
Smack! Smack!
Liao Xu's sword was slapped aside. Its tip swept across a pillar, carving a long gouge in the wood.
Halfway through Yi Zhanzhi's downward stroke, Wang Gongqin kicked the spine of his saber. The long blade recoiled, splitting the web of his hand, and blood streamed down the hilt.
Just as Zhao He's short spear drew near, Wang Gongqin seized the shaft and twisted his fingers.
Crack.
The hardwood shaft split.
Zhao He paled and abandoned his spear to retreat, but he was half a step too late. The gust from Wang Gongqin's palm grazed his shoulder, leaving his entire arm hanging limp and his teeth chattering with pain.
Shen Qingyue thrust from behind.
Her short sword pierced the gray robe but failed to sink far into his flesh.
Wang Gongqin drove his elbow backward.
Bang.
Shen Qingyue flew sideways and slammed into the wall, coughing blood as she hit the floor. Her short sword slipped from her hand and skidded away.
Only one exchange.
The formation of the five from the Thundercloud Martial Arts Hall broke apart.
The brazier in the Ancestral Hall swayed, sending sparks flying wildly.
Wang Gongqin stood amid the pile of corpses, gray robes stained red, wearing a sinister smile.
"The disciples of the Thundercloud Martial Arts Hall smell so much sweeter with all that blood and vigor than those worthless fools."
Yi Zhanzhi's Adam's apple bobbed, and he took half a step back.
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