Staggering Journey (4)

Since crossing over a few days earlier, Zhang Xing had encountered immortals, natural disasters, and war, and had already been treading carefully. Now that he had been warned, and had just witnessed men being killed as easily as chickens, he felt even more uneasy. Yet after so many days of turmoil, he was desperately exhausted, and knew full well that without proper rest, he would have even less to rely on.

Thus, after a little thought, Zhang Xing merely set a stool behind the door as a makeshift obstruction, then took the straw and bedding off the bed and spread them on the floor behind and to one side of the door. He placed his clothes, helmet, and long-handled brow-tip saber beside him, farther inside, and only then felt somewhat reassured enough to lie down and rest.

Perhaps he was simply too exhausted: the moment he relaxed, he sank straight into a heavy sleep.

But suddenly, after an unknown length of muddled sleep, a bird cried out on the roof, jolting the transmigrator awake. The next moment, he distinctly heard a faint movement outside the door, and immediately gripped his saber's handle, quietly propping himself up.

A hand reached through the gap in the door and moved the stool aside. Then the barely closed door slowly swung open... The rain seemed to have stopped outside, and some light, whether moonlight or starlight, clearly outlined a figure.

As the man entered, Zhang Xing, who had been bringing up the rear all these days, recognized him almost instantly from behind the door. It was the short man surnamed Wang, a fellow soldier from the Longwater Army like the tall man surnamed Han whom Du Meng had warned him about. He had even helped Zhang Xing lay out the straw at noon, but recalling that now sent a chill down his spine.

Apart from the doorway, the room was pitch-black. The soldier surnamed Wang took two steps inside, drew a dagger, and cautiously felt his way toward the bed.

At this sight, Zhang Xing, hidden behind the door, had no room for further thought. He waited another breath, saw that nobody else was following from outside and that there were no other figures, then sprang to his feet. Drawing up the long saber with a backhanded motion, he hacked at the man's back with all his strength, almost following some kind of muscle memory.

But the instant the blade swung, Zhang Xing's heart turned cold... This was a tiny side room in a village house, and he was in the cramped space behind the door. There was simply no room to swing a medium-length weapon like the long-handled brow-tip saber. The blade struck the rammed-earth wall, throwing the stroke out of shape and sending Zhang Xing himself staggering backward.

Fortunately, the soldier surnamed Wang was startled too, and failed to counterattack immediately. By the time he recovered and raised his dagger to stab, Zhang Xing had already abandoned his saber and frantically grabbed his helmet to block.

The dagger struck the helmet, scraping out a spark and glancing aside. Not daring to hesitate, Zhang Xing hurriedly reached out with his other hand to seize the man's dagger-wielding wrist. As their hands met, the man reached with his free hand to snatch the helmet. Their four arms crossed, and they grappled together. The room was so narrow that after a few struggles, they simply tumbled to the floor.

At that moment, his mind blank and almost entirely reliant on instinct to fight for his life, Zhang Xing felt that so-called True Qi surge out from between his chest and abdomen again. He put it to use as it came, sending it around his arms through some sort of channels before it returned to his chest and abdomen, forming a circuit. Filled with the so-called Ice True Qi, his arms instantly gained tremendous strength, immediately pinning the man down and wrenching his helmet-holding hand free.

"You..."

Sensing something, the soldier surnamed Wang was greatly shocked, then opened his mouth, whether to shout or to say something.

But Zhang Xing pressed his advantage. Holding down the man's dagger-wielding wrist with one hand, he circulated his True Qi, raised the helmet, and smashed it into the man's face with all his might. After several blows, the soldier surnamed Wang stopped moving.

Yet in the pitch-darkness, Zhang Xing dared not gamble. He smashed down dozens more times, only dispersing his True Qi and taking a breath when what he felt beneath his hand no longer seemed right.

A little later, he dragged the corpse into the moonlight inside the doorway, only to discover that he had already smashed the man's head to a pulp. Though he could not see it clearly, it had plainly become something like jelly, and wisps of cold were rising from it in the moonlight.

Of course, there was no time to worry about any of that. Zhang Xing forcibly suppressed the urge to vomit rising in his chest and abdomen. Without even time to glance at the night sky, he picked up the brow-tip saber, found the dagger, put on the sticky helmet, and dashed outside, running over the muddy ground toward the house where he remembered Du Meng was staying... Ever since he had crossed over, this helmet had never been clean!

Back to the present: he had barely run a few dozen paces when a sudden flash of fire appeared in the rammed-earth thatched house not far away, followed by an incessant uproar of shouts and furious bellows.

Zhang Xing started in alarm, then quickened his pace.

Even so, by the time he reached the house, he seemed to be too late-the tall soldier surnamed Han was just emerging through the doorway of the thatched house, whose roof had somehow caught fire, carrying a blood-dripping short sword and wearing a savage grin.

Of course, his grin immediately froze, because he too had seen Zhang Xing.

Zhang Xing drew a deep breath and swung up his brow-tip saber again. The soldier surnamed Han dared not hesitate, and hurried to meet him.

The moment they exchanged blows in the open space before the house, the soldier surnamed Han came off badly. The open ground was ideally suited to a long weapon. With a single swing of the brow-tip saber, the sword Han raised to block was knocked aside, and he himself staggered and fell.

But the latter did not panic at all. He rolled across the ground and escaped back into the rammed-earth thatched house with smoke rising from its roof.

Du Meng's long-handled weapon had to be inside. More critically, there was no telling whether Du Meng was alive or dead. Zhang Xing dared not give his opponent any time. He threw down his long saber, gripped his dagger, and chased him in.

He had only just given chase, barely stepping halfway through the doorway, when the soldier surnamed Han turned and lunged out through the smoke and darkness. He had clearly calculated this, believing Zhang Xing had not fully recovered from his wounds: first force him to abandon his saber, then lure him inside to grapple.

This time, Zhang Xing had experience and did not panic in the slightest. He immediately circulated his True Qi into his limbs and grappled with his opponent, rolling about before the doorway.

But as soon as the close struggle began, the transmigrator gained a further understanding of why his opponent had retreated inside. At the same moment he unleashed his Ice True Qi, he sensed a sudden increase in the strength of his opponent's limbs too. Heat surged from those limbs, meeting his own cold and canceling it out.

Not only that, but Zhang Xing felt that whenever he eased his True Qi even slightly, his opponent's heat would immediately invade his body, leaving him burning unbearably and his strength failing.

In the mud before the doorway, the two fought in a tangled heap, sometimes rising to wrestle, sometimes rolling and tearing at one another. By firelight and moonlight, each could clearly see the astonishment in the other's eyes. Meanwhile, both could only drive their True Qi with all their might, ceaselessly wearing each other down, neither daring to pause in the slightest nor entertaining the slightest thought of breaking away and fleeing.

For a time, they were actually deadlocked.

By now, the other two routed soldiers had long since heard the commotion and come over.

Now, Zhang Xing was no fool. Over these past two days, as he secretly circulated this damned True Qi, he had already realized that while it produced wondrous effects, at its current level it certainly did not put its user in an entirely different realm from ordinary men. A great saber swung down would still be impossible to stop... And right now, he had no idea where the two remaining routed soldiers stood, or whether they were in league with his opponent.

At that thought, Zhang Xing maintained the deadlock while seizing the chance to shout at the top of his lungs. "What are you standing there for? This Han bastard is up to no good! He wanted to force us to become bandits and keep us from going home. Du Meng and I refused, so he ambushed us... If a villain like him wins, do you think anything good will come of it for you?"

This argument was not intended to make the two rescue him, but to confuse them and keep the remaining routed soldiers out of the fight.

"Don't listen to his nonsense!" Shocked and furious, the soldier surnamed Han poured out more True Qi and rolled back on top, taking the opportunity to address the routed soldiers himself. "I saw that Red Mountain savage Du slaughtering innocents and treating our brothers' lives as worthless! That was how I offended them..."

Zhang Xing's heart steadied considerably. He now knew the two were not in league with the soldier surnamed Han, but his mouth did not stop:

"Do you really think the others can't see what you're plotting? Who exactly was innocent? The man who wanted to rape that widow, or the villagers who gave us food, clothes, and beds?"

"You feigned injury and sickness! You were plotting something!"

"You ambushed us at midnight! Shameful and ridiculous!"

"You..."

And so, while shouting to win over the two remaining routed soldiers, the pair fought desperately in the mud, pouring out every last bit of their True Qi, with neither able to prevail.

With no winner, no clear account of what had happened, and neither man's companion anywhere to be seen, which of the two routed soldiers dared intervene?

"Lie down, you dog!"

Suddenly, just as the soldier surnamed Han turned sideways with his back toward the burning earthen house, a voice rang out behind him. A man shot from the house like a cannonball, long saber in hand. He first bellowed, then slammed the butt of the shaft hard against the ground and made as if to chop at one of the combatants.

It was Du Meng, whom they had thought finished off.

Hearing his voice, Zhang Xing was naturally overjoyed, while the soldier surnamed Han was seized by indescribable panic. In his haste, the latter immediately tried to pull away, dodge, and flee. But how could Zhang Xing let him escape? He increased the circulation of his True Qi to invade his opponent in turn, while throwing his head back and smashing his helmeted forehead hard into the man's face-this was one of the ways to subdue an enemy he had thought of when putting on his helmet before leaving, and now it came into use.

Du Meng's anticipated assistance never arrived. Instead, that single headbutt threw the soldier surnamed Han into complete disarray, interrupting the flow of True Qi in his arms.

Without hesitation, Zhang Xing kept hold of him with one hand and stabbed repeatedly with the dagger in the other, just as when he had killed the short soldier, almost turning his opponent's body into a hornet's nest.

Yet a moment later, almost like a frame of stop-motion animation, Zhang Xing abruptly froze again, his entire body coming to a halt.

For he distinctly sensed an invisible, scorching force suddenly pouring from his opponent's body and attaching itself to his own... Moreover, unlike the earlier clash of True Qi, when each invaded the other with friend and foe clearly divided, this scorching energy was now friendly, even submissive.

The invisible, scorching energy entered his body, made a circuit through his limbs, and settled in his chest and abdomen. For a moment, he actually felt some strength return and his spirits revive.

And that was not all. A thought stirred in Zhang Xing's mind, and he circulated his energy slightly, only to discover in astonishment that the place in his chest and abdomen where his True Qi had been stored was full again. Moreover, he could freely command both cold and hot True Qi-the cold in his left hand remained unchanged, while the dagger in his right began to sizzle as the bloodstains on it evaporated in the heat.

What was this, experience points from killing monsters?

A second transmigration cheat gifted by Taishang Laojun?

Or was this simply how True Qi worked in this world?

Amid his uncertainty, what pulled Zhang Xing back from his wandering thoughts was a heavy thump as something hit the ground. He turned blankly and saw that Du Meng, so imposing just moments earlier, had suddenly collapsed into a sitting position. He hurriedly dropped the dead man in his hands and turned to help him.

Du Meng lay slumped in the mud a short distance before the house, barely keeping himself seated with both hands, breathing rapidly and painfully. Seeing Zhang Xing approach, he instead complained, "You brat, why did you hide it from me when your wounds had healed?"

"I was too cautious. But if I hadn't hidden it, we'd both be dead now... That Wang fellow ambushed me too. I only came after finishing things there." Zhang Xing was helpless too. "But Brother Du Meng, how bad are your wounds?"

"I won't live..."

Du Meng sighed. "Han sneaked in, channeled his True Qi, and stabbed me three times. Just as ruthless as you, all in the chest and belly. At first I thought I'd play dead and strike back, but when I secretly crawled up just now, I knew there was no saving me... My innards must be ruptured. I won't last long... All I could do was bluff."

Though they had known each other for only a few days, Zhang Xing still could not help feeling his nose sting.

"What're you crying for? This is my retribution... Do you know what retribution is?" At this point, Du Meng looked up at the two routed soldiers, who were timidly preparing to approach, and snapped at them. "You two fools don't know what's good for you... Get away. I've got private words for my brother."

The two could not have wished for anything better, and immediately turned and fled. A few villagers, however, had now appeared around the perimeter, standing at a distance with their hands folded as they watched the burning house and the two soldiers who had plainly shown them goodwill during the fighting.

"Brother."

The earthen house behind him had been soaked by many days of rain, and now, as the fire surged out from within, smoke already wreathed it. Du Meng looked back at Zhang Xing, his breathing increasingly rapid. "I was in the wrong. We were brothers who'd escaped death together, yet I had the wicked thought of using my position to take your family treasure. It was the first time I'd seen such a fine treasure that could be used without True Qi. I really did have a dirty thought... I really do deserve this... It's behind my waist. Take it yourself."

Zhang Xing kept shaking his head and simply tried to help him up. "I'll carry you aside on my back. There's too much smoke here."

"All right." Du Meng nodded his agreement.

But the moment Zhang Xing began helping him up, Du Meng's expression changed violently, and he repeatedly waved his hands.

Understanding, Zhang Xing could only let go helplessly.

"Forget it. Just one worthless life. I didn't die at Fallen Dragon Shoal, didn't die before Laojun's ruined temple. Dragging on this far already counts as borrowing your luck to steal from Heaven and change my fate." Only after recovering for a long while did Du Meng speak again. His breathing was more hurried, yet his words were calmer. "But brother... now things have come to this, even though I deserve it, there's still one thing I have to entrust to you... Help if you're willing. If you're not, I won't blame you. But I still hope you'll help... You must understand, I'm one of the Hongshan people. What we value most..."

"I know. Fallen leaves returning to their roots." Zhang Xing answered without thinking. "You saved my life at the Old Lord Temple. Even if it costs me my life, I'll take your body back and bury you at home."

Du Meng looked as though he had received a pardon. His breathing abruptly grew violent, then tugged at his lungs, producing a sound as unpleasant as a punctured bellows.

Zhang Xing hurriedly called over the village elders watching from afar and asked a few questions, but there was nothing to be done. He could only bring back a bowl of warm water and sit beside him in the mud again, head bowed.

And so, after who knew how long, the breathing of the man beside him grew increasingly labored, until suddenly the next breath never came. But Zhang Xing did not raise his head.

Only after waiting another good while did he carefully lower the man leaning against him and lay him flat, his head still bowed. He sent some of that so-called Ice True Qi into him so the corpse would quickly cool, making it easier to preserve... Then, after hesitating for a while longer, he reluctantly removed the Compass.

In all honesty, through this incident, Zhang Xing had gained some firsthand understanding of what it meant not to rely on external things-whatever the heart desired, it pointed toward. He could not say it was some object from a fable meant to tempt men's hearts, but if he treated it as a cheat and kept using it without restraint, sooner or later he would probably suffer terribly.

How did that saying go? Fortune was where disaster leaned; disaster was where fortune lay hidden. Pursuing shallow desires too far might instead summon great calamity.

Ironically, that saying was also Laojun's work. Good or bad, it all came from him, and he held the right to interpret it too.

Putting away the Compass, Zhang Xing finally turned toward the local villagers gathered around the perimeter, then looked up at the sky. He was just about to speak when he felt something was wrong. He looked at the sky again, lowered his head to look at Du Meng's corpse, then looked up a third time, finally realizing what the problem was:

There were actually two moons hanging high in the sky overhead.

One moon was large and the other small. The larger seemed no different from Earth's moon, with mottled light and dark patches that even looked somewhat similar. The smaller, faintly red one was only a third its size, yet its outline was clear, unmistakably different from the other stars.

The two moons were not far apart, one bright and one crimson, their light setting each other off.

Zhang Xing stared blankly for a while, then quickly accepted this reality.

Just as he had quickly accepted that he had easily killed two men, and quickly accepted the death of his temporary-and only-companion.

PS: Thanks to alliance leaders Yang Hanzheng and Stinking Seabed.