Don't You Swagger~

"Sir, please don't..."

"Hahaha, don't what? Go on, tell me..."

On the highway outside the tavern, several street thugs were harassing a woman. Their leader was twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with a flower tucked askew into his topknot and a sinister look in his eyes. He raised his foot and kicked the attendant who came forward to intervene, sending blood spilling from his mouth.

"Sir, please let me go. I'm already betrothed..."

"You can't even see. How do you know I'm a 'sir'? For all you know... I might be your own dear husband!"

The blind woman wore a pale cloth skirt and stood helplessly where she was. First, someone snatched away her cane. Then five fingers settled on her shoulder and yanked downward, tearing off half her sleeve.

She clutched the phoenix-headed pipa in her arms.

Her travel money had been stolen. Her only hope of getting home was to sing for money along the way with this pipa.

"Sir, I beg you."

"Beg me? This isn't the time. Once we're in bed, you can take your time begging me..."

"Sir, I'm blind!"

"What difference does it make whether your eyes are open or shut when you're doing that? Who knows, perhaps I like blind girls!"

The man with the flower laughed smugly and reached out to pinch her fair, tender, oval face. Her skin was tender enough to squeeze water from.

Sure enough, blindness had its advantages.

"You... you people..."

The blind woman was beside herself with grief and anger. She earned her living through her art and had never been willing to trade on her weakness or misery. Though Gusu City had its share of injustice, how could it compare to this place? Once outside a great city, the authorities and the law vanished without a trace.

Suzhou and Wuxi were less than two hundred li apart, yet this road seemed to have no end...

"Still thinking of leaving?"

The other three lackeys spread their arms like white cranes unfurling their wings, hemming the woman in.

"Our young master has played with more ordinary women than anyone could count. He's long since grown sick of them. He likes someone different, like you..."

"Just give in already."

"You're blind, yet you still get to serve our young master. You're enjoying better fortune than people with eyes."

"Hahaha!"

Their grating laughter carried far.

More than a dozen travelers on long journeys sat silently inside the tavern. Those who had felt some pity for the helpless woman were horrified when they saw the flower-wearing man's formidable fighting skills: a single kick had left the attendant she had hired vomiting blood and dead.

"What's going on?" asked a lame Daoist who had only recently arrived at the tavern, looking outside.

No one answered. Only after he asked again did a voice speak up.

"She has only herself to blame."

The guests all looked up at those words, their eyes widening. The speaker was the pockmarked proprietor, who had come out to pour wine and serve dishes.

"What did she do wrong?"

"She bumped into Young Master Tan. While apologizing, she somehow got onto the subject of good people and bad people. Young Master Tan asked, 'Do I look like a good man or a bad man to you?' She insisted he was a good man, and Young Master Tan cursed her for 'telling blind lies with her eyes open.' That's how this started. Looks like it won't end peacefully."

After serving the dishes, the pockmarked proprietor stayed. He eyed the bundle lying on the highway, greed flashing in his eyes. "A blind woman managed to save up that much money. What do you think she does for a living?"

The lame Daoist took a look and said, "Her fingers are long and slender, and she treasures that pipa. She probably performs for money."

"Performs?"

The pockmarked proprietor sneered and shook his head.

"I've never heard of anyone earning that much gold and silver just by performing. Most likely... heh, heh. Once she'd earned enough silver, she slipped back toward her hometown, claiming she'd only sold her art, not her body, while she was away. Really, she's looking for a family to take her off someone else's hands. Don't be fooled by her resistance now. It's all an act."

At these words, the oppressive atmosphere in the tavern immediately grew lively. Though no one spoke, their eyes held a hint of amusement as they watched the four men and one woman on the highway. Quite a few silently thanked the pockmarked proprietor for rescuing them from the predicament of watching someone suffer without helping.

The Daoist frowned. "Do you have any grounds for saying that?"

"Of course."

The pockmarked proprietor pointed and smiled. "See that mandarin-duck purse at her waist? In Gusu City, all the famous girls in the brothels and pleasure houses carry those."

Everyone looked. There was indeed a vividly colored red purse at the blind woman's waist. Though they did not know whether it came from a brothel, it was certainly very different from those ordinary women wore. The excitement in their eyes grew stronger.

A tyrant harassing a prostitute-just dogs biting dogs.

Everyone could now watch this fine show without any burden on their conscience.

"As for how I know, heh, heh..."

The pockmarked proprietor stroked his beard, narrowed his eyes, and smacked his lips, his face full of lingering relish.

"Hmph!"

The Daoist's brows knitted tightly. He slapped the table and rose, pressing a hand to the long object in a cloth sheath at his waist, about to act.

Clop, clop, clop...

Hoofbeats gradually sounded along the highway, neither hurried nor slow, like falling raindrops. Everyone in the tavern shifted their gaze.

Someone else was coming.

A lone rider in a blue-green robe approached from the south on a yellow horse.

The man wore a bamboo hat, with a black-sheathed longsword hanging at his waist. Holding a large gourd, he tipped back his head to drink and rode straight ahead, as though he had not seen the trouble on the highway before him.

"Another blind man?"

"If he's not blind, he's a drunk!"

The pockmarked proprietor sneered. "Hmph, I say he's an arrogant fool who doesn't know how much he weighs. The Tan Family of the water stronghold has vast holdings and influence. Their second young master, Tan Lan, has trained in martial arts since childhood and is an exceptional fighter. They call him 'A Single Flower.' Even five or six burly men can't get close to him..."

As he spoke, he cast a cold glance at the lame Daoist, who had stopped after taking only a few steps.

"What are you doing?"

Before Tan Lan could speak, his lackeys turned and stared coldly at the blue-green-robed swordsman on horseback.

"Can't you see our young master is upholding justice?"

"Get as far away as you can!"

"Hey, are you deaf?"

The blue-green-robed traveler seemed not to hear. Seated in the saddle, he tipped his head back to drink, swaying from side to side as though he might fall off at any moment. Yet he soon closed from twenty or thirty paces away to within ten.

"Interesting. Very interesting... What auspicious day is it today? One blind, one deaf-heaven's cripples and earth's broken, and I've run into them all."

Tan Lan left the blind woman, confident she could not escape anyway, and turned around. He reached for the steel saber at his waist, wariness flashing in his eyes.

"Get him!"

The three thugs were ordinary fighters, but they reckoned they would have no trouble against a drunk. This was the perfect chance to show their worth. Brandishing their weapons and yelling wildly, they charged.

Swish! Swish!

The yellow horse did not halt for even half a step. The three thugs stiffened, then toppled to either side in succession, blood quickly welling from their chests. With graceful hoofbeats, the horse stepped lightly onward, never pausing in the slightest.

The people in the tavern saw only two flashes of cold light, each tracing half a circle to either side. Together they formed a complete circle, enclosing the Tan Family's three henchmen, who had borrowed the tiger's might like foxes, and killing them instantly.

To the man on horseback, killing was merely an insignificant matter.

Nowhere near as important as drinking his wine.

"Fine swordsmanship!"

The lame Daoist clapped and laughed. He untied a much more finely crafted vermilion-and-purple gourd from his waist and took a great swig. His breast heaving, he cleared his throat and let out a mighty bellow, actually bursting into song and making the tavern's diners jump.

"Don't you~ swagger-"

"Among the strong, there's always a stronger hand; commit enough injustice, and you'll bring about your own end..."

His voice could split metal and stone, ringing far through the woods.