The Setting Sun, the Battle Begins

The little town looked different on all four sides.

To the east lay vast fields, beyond which towering mountains were easiest to see, their peaks rising in all manner of shapes in an unbroken range.

To the west were a river and bamboo groves; to the north was a wasteland of wild grass, with bamboo and trees growing amid the weeds. Most of the townspeople's ancestral graves were to the north.

There were woods to the south as well, but these consisted mostly of fruit trees. By autumn, fruits of all kinds, some familiar and some nameless, had weighed down the branches on the hillsides.

In the light of the setting sun, the fruit, which had only just begun to turn yellow, took on an enticing reddish-gold hue.

"In another couple of weeks or so, these fruits should be getting sweet."

Three militiamen and three guards patrolled along a path to the south, chatting as they looked at the orchard.

"I bet some of them are ripe already. Want to go in and find a few to try?"

"Forget it. Don't leave town. I heard the bandits are attacking tonight. For all we know, there could be a whole bunch of them hiding in those woods right now!"

The guard had barely finished speaking when his throat suddenly caught.

An arrow lodged in his neck, sending him crashing to the ground.

The other five froze for a moment.

Another arrow struck a militiaman in the face, its tip punching out through his other cheek.

In an instant, two guards rolled across the ground and huddled at the foot of a house's north wall.

One militiaman was a little too slow and was struck by a volley of arrows.

The other militiaman seized the chance to bring his saber down on the bronze gong at the dead guard's waist.

Clang!!!

The two guards hiding by the wall also opened their throats and shouted.

"The bandits are here! The bandits are here!!"

Dozens of fierce, wiry men charged out of the orchard. Some carried sabers and spears, some gripped bows and arrows, and others had hunting guns.

Most of them wore rags, but there were so many layers that, however many dead men's clothes they had robbed to piece their outfits together, their bodies were thoroughly covered.

The sun had not yet sunk below the mountains.

The bandits and roving outlaws had already launched their attack.

The houses in the southern part of town were all low, with wooden frames, mud walls, and bamboo-and-wood roofs covered with a layer of thatch.

Wang Fu was patrolling a road three rows of houses away. When he heard the commotion, his expression changed.

He thought going around would take too long, so he charged forward and leaped, planted the ball of one foot against a mud wall, and reached up with both hands to vault onto the roof.

He raced ahead in one breath and made two leaps.

He was already on the third roof, where he saw the attack on the road below.

The fastest of the bandits had already reached the bodies of those shot dead moments ago.

"Hah!!"

Wang Fu swept both hands out in succession, and his spindle-shaped darts brought down three or four bandits in the blink of an eye.

He was also skilled with throwing darts.

His steel darts were heavy, and in his hands, they could punch into a man's skull from over twenty paces away.

Compared with the gun he had tried a few times, whose bullets he could never tell where they would land, the steel darts seemed more reliable to him.

But throwing darts of that weight required movements that were too large, leaving him no chance to use them in a close one-on-one fight with an expert.

He had only thrown four darts, however, when he hastily twisted and dove behind the roof ridge.

Thud, thud, thud, thud!!!

Seven or eight arrows buried themselves in the roof ridge all at once.

Crouched behind it, Wang Fu cautiously peeked out, his face taut.

Damn it, there really was something wrong with these bandits!

They hadn't shouted at all as they charged, and even after three or four of them were brought down by steel darts, they hadn't hesitated for a moment before shooting back-and so accurately!

But Wang Fu had delayed them for a moment.

The bandits had not made it halfway down the path before a series of gunshots rang out.

A crowd of militiamen and guards had arrived at the end of the path. Before their feet had even settled, they hurriedly opened fire.

Shopkeeper Ma and the others had already guessed that it would be hard to hide men to the east or north.

The bandits were more likely to attack from the west or south, so they had concentrated more men on those two sides when making their preparations.

Even if their aim was poor, at such a short distance and with so many targets, a few were bound to be hit.

Those struck by the darts died on the spot. The bullets had not hit vital spots, so those who were shot could not die at once. At last, they could no longer hold back their howls.

The remaining bandits roared as well and charged even harder, meeting the militiamen and guards in close combat.

A bandit plunged his machete into a militiaman's belly and twisted it hard. Blood ran onto the nonslip cord wrapped around the hilt, and the bandit's face was filled with bloodthirsty excitement.

A nearby militiaman took the chance to slash at him, but the clothes that looked as though they had been twisted together from rags actually checked the blade, leaving only a shallow wound.

"Die!!"

The bandit turned and lunged at him with another slash.

Die! Rob! These were among the few Chinese words the bandits knew.

Sabers, guns, and spears stabbed and clashed in the melee, sending waves of blood spraying outward.

Wang Fu saw his chance and slapped a palm against the roof ridge. In an instant, he drew his sword and prepared to jump down and kill the enemy.

But as soon as he stood up, his eyelid twitched, and his eyes involuntarily turned south.

A figure had appeared on the roof of a house at the southernmost edge of town.

Much as Wang Fu had done earlier, the person was racing and leaping across the rooftops.

His movements were wild, yet he uttered not a word.

In silence, he crossed three or four rooftops as though walking on level ground, reaching Wang Fu in a single rush.

Wang Fu's eyes widened. Entering the boxer's Aperture Opening state, he shuddered all over and prepared to thrust his sword.

At that critical moment, Wang Fu suddenly remembered his two recent defeats.

He had no time to recall the details, but a fleeting sense of familiarity flashed through him.

The sword he had been about to thrust flicked upward by instinct, standing vertically before him.

Clang!!!

The saber's edge scraped a trail of sparks along the sword.

The two men swept past each other.

A lean man with disheveled hair, a short beard, and narrow eyes sharp as blades appeared behind Wang Fu, his body low and a gleaming silver saber held crosswise in his hand.

A spray of blood burst from Wang Fu's left waist. Screaming, he dove to the right and rolled forward as he landed.

He would rather throw himself into the melee below than stay near the man with the saber.

If not for the inexpressible foreboding that had made him raise his sword to block, he feared he would not merely have been wounded at the waist, but cut in two.

Among the guards were disciples close to Wang Fu. Seeing him wounded, several of them roared and fought their way over without regard for their lives, supporting him as they tried to flee.

Several other guards hid among the militiamen and threw darts at the man on the roof.

One guard snatched a gun from someone beside him and pulled the trigger at the roof.

The man swept his saber across.

The narrow blade was like a broad iron shield; none of the hidden weapons could get past that spinning slash.

As for the shot, the man did not even dodge.

He knew it would miss him, but he still decided to kill the men with guns first.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something approaching rapidly through the sky.

It really was flying.

It was a sparrow flying straight ahead, as though guiding someone.

And the figure on the ground was much faster than the sparrow.

Black hair, youth, blazing eyes, blue clothes, cloth shoes, and a sword in his hand.

Chu Tianshu was running, but his upper body remained perfectly steady, without the slightest jolt. "Flying along" would have described it more accurately.

With enough distance to run, his speed had climbed to its peak.

When he passed through the gaps between the militiamen, they could not make out what had gone by. They sensed only a shadow and a gust of wind.

The bandits, facing that direction, had a clear view and saw that someone was charging toward them.

The bandit who had fired the first arrow was among the fastest to charge, and had even advanced farther than Wang Fu and the others.

He carried the most arrows at his waist, and even in close combat he could instantly draw his bow and fire in succession, wounding the opponent before him.

The feel of the taut bowstring was as familiar as an organ he had been born with. The arrowhead was already aimed at the blue shadow, and a hunter's smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

That was when a streak of silver light burst forth.

The fierce light split the feathered arrow from tip to tail just as it was about to leave the string, swept through the bow and bowstring, and sank into the archer's shoulder and collarbone.

Shhk!!

The silver light did not stop, sweeping out from behind the archer.

Chu Tianshu held that streak of silver light, his feet losing no speed as his hand darted left and right.

The spearhead of a bandit ahead to the left, the thigh of a bandit ahead to the right.

Farther ahead, the side of another bandit's neck, and farther still, the right arm of a bandit who had just snatched a musket.

After he passed through them, the severed limbs of those bandits could no longer withstand the pressure of their blood, and it spurted out.

The thin wounds split open, sinew and bone separating. The wounded screamed, while some corpses quietly spurted blood, not yet fallen.

The cruel scene was left behind him.

Chu Tianshu had already reached Wang Fu and the others.

Although Wang Fu was gravely wounded, he was still deep in the Aperture Opening state. Having witnessed everything, he felt something he could not tell was cold or hot rapidly filling his chest, even as he shouted, "Watch out!"

A figure pounced down from the roof, occupying the spot where Chu Tianshu had just been.

Chu Tianshu had already dodged to the right, sweeping his sword forcefully across the ground.

Sand and dirt, steel darts that had fallen earlier, and even a splash of blood were swept up by the sword and hurled at the swordsman.

The swordsman did not swing his saber to block. He merely stepped diagonally aside to dodge the steel darts, and against the sand and bloody mist, he only narrowed his eyes and protected his eyeballs with his eyelashes.

If his opponent used those things as cover for a surprise attack, he could strike at any moment from that position, delivering a slash at his best.

Chu Tianshu ignored him, however, and charged forward again. With the end of the peachwood sword sheath in his left hand, he jabbed a bandit in the temple, broke through the interception of several bandits, and fought his way straight out.

He had actually left town and was heading straight for the orchard.

The swordsman's narrowed eyes snapped up, and he gave chase.

Chu Tianshu killed no more bandits, plunging straight into the depths of the orchard in one sustained rush.

He was now entirely in the boxer's Aperture Opening state and lacked a spirit medium's vision, but skilled boxers were not wholly ignorant of evil things.

Their intuition could sense the source of danger, and their noses could detect unusual smells.

Their Yang Qi was abundant. Even striking an evil spirit with bare fists and feet could force it back as though hitting a balloon, though little force would take hold, making it hard to inflict enough damage.

But Chu Tianshu also had a magical implement in hand, which made things different. The peachwood sword sheath was slightly warm, and together with his senses, it indicated the direction where Evil Qi was thickest.

Ahead, beneath the shadow of a large tree, stood a fat, red-faced old man wearing a necklace of animal teeth. Only the middle of his head had been left with hair, braided into three small plaits.

Three large bamboo baskets stood beside him, buzzing ominously.

The fat old man was startled to see Chu Tianshu charge this far and shouted something unintelligible.

Two dwarfs, three feet tall and their faces covered in wrinkles, jumped down from the canopy with daggers in hand, along with a black wildcat.

Chu Tianshu's eyes flashed. Still more than ten meters away, he abruptly changed direction and darted toward another part of the woods.

The swordsman arrived there and, without a word, braced one foot to the side, turned, and followed.

He could not let this man out of his sight again.

If this man found a chance to charge into the bandits and slaughter them a few more times,

even the fiercest outlaws would break!

The fat, red-faced sorcerer's expression was still somewhat ugly as he watched the two men charge into the woods. He barked a few orders, telling the dwarfs to stay close and guard him well.

Suddenly, his face lit up, and he looked up.

On the western horizon, the dazzlingly pure light of the red sun was finally extinguished behind the mountaintops.

The vast sky and sprawling earth turned cool and desolate in the blink of an eye.

The moon had risen early, but its light was only a dim white glimmer.