At that horse's agonized scream, the youth, who had already been hesitating, immediately drew his flying sword and rode it back the way he had come like a streak of lightning.
As soon as he reached the mountain pass, he saw that the swift horse had fallen beside the road, crushing a broad patch of shrubs. Blood streamed from all four hooves. The two bandits who had looked so indolent before had now become ferocious fighters, each swinging a steel saber as they savagely attacked the soldier thrown from his mount.
One glance at the fight told Xing Yan how it would end. Though the dust-covered messenger was nimble, his fighting skills clearly fell short of his horsemanship. Desperately parrying with a staff, he was already hard-pressed on every side and about to perish beneath the two bandits' vicious blades.
At this sight, the youth, already full of suspicions, immediately brandished his sword and leaped into the fray.
How could any ordinary martial artist compare with Xing Yan's present abilities? The two bandits, just about to succeed, barely glimpsed a figure closing in before a painful numbness shot through their hands. With two ringing clangs, their steel sabers flew from their grips.
Before the two painted-faced bravos even had time to be startled, a chill touched their necks. In the blink of an eye, that unremarkable young traveler had positioned his long Iron Sword precisely against both their throats.
"Speak. Who told you to do this?"
Looking again, they found that the youth's formerly mild expression had turned fierce and imposing. Faced with such a display, and with his life hanging in the balance, the leader immediately wilted, putting on a pitiful face as he desperately begged for mercy.
"Spare us, young hero! Spare us! We brothers only took up