Torrential rain poured down, accompanied by thunder and lightning, as if the heavens and earth were being ruthlessly ravaged, reduced to mere playthings.
Raindrops as large as beans, driven by the fierce storm, pierced through the windows like sharp blades and pelted the roof of the mountain inn with a sound as dense as popping beans.
Several massive candles, as thick as a child’s arm, were lit in the corners of the room. Yet, even they wavered and flickered under the cold, deadly aura brought by the storm. The trembling light of the flames illuminated the square face of Ge Yun Fei, glistening with sweat, as well as the shining blades held by the three black-clad men before him.
Ge Yun Fei’s hands, gripping his pair of short halberds tightly, had turned pale. “What grievance do you hold against Xing Yun Manor to appear before me in disguise, refusing to show your true faces?”
“Leave what you have, and you may live.” The cold, sinister voice seemed to suppress even the roar of the storm.
“This item belongs to Xing Yun Manor and has nothing to do with you. Why do you insist on taking it? Are you not afraid of disrupting the harmony of the martial world?”
“Leave what you have, and you may live.” The same cold, sinister voice repeated.
“Who are you, to dare seize what belongs to Xing Yun Manor? Such audacity is intolerable!” Unable to restrain himself any longer, the burly Zhao Da Hai beside Ge Yun Fei shook his broadsword and bellowed angrily.
A clap of thunder suddenly rolled across the sky, shaking the inn’s walls and sending dust and debris cascading down. Almost in tandem with the thunder, a flash of blade light split through the flying dust, followed by a splash of blood. Zhao Da Hai’s head flew several meters away, prompting those cowering in the corners to cry out in unison.
Zhao Da Hai’s head rolled to the corner of the room, finally stopping beside an exquisitely crafted pair of deerskin boots.
From beside the boots, a large square-shaped dog’s head suddenly emerged. Its black nose sniffed curiously at the bloodied head.
A sharp voice suddenly rang out: “San’er! How dare you sniff that filthy thing? I’ll beat you to death if you do it again!”
The owner of the deerskin boots lifted a foot and nudged the dog away.
Moments earlier, the inn had been deathly silent, the crowd terrified by the swift blades of the three black-clad men. Now, this clear voice pierced the stillness, drawing all eyes toward its source.
The speaker had jet-black hair tied into a topknot and secured with a silken crown. A round face with large, bright black eyes and thin lips hinted at sharp wit and eloquence. When the person spoke, two rabbit-like front teeth peeked out. Clad in a short yellow jacket with a pearl sewn onto the lapel, the young figure sat leisurely at a long table in the corner, one leg crossed over the other.
The large dog with a shiny yellow coat stood faithfully beside the youth.
The boy rolled his eyes as he noticed the gazes of everyone in the room and snapped, “What’s so interesting to look at? People are fighting and killing each other here—surely that’s more entertaining than looking at me!”
Sweat finally trickled down Ge Yun Fei’s face.
Zhao Da Hai’s lifeless body lay sprawled beside him, blood continuing to gush from the severed neck.
A chill ran down Ge Yun Fei’s spine. He couldn’t tell how much of a chance he had to survive.
“Leave what you have, and you may live.” The three glimmering blades inched closer.
Ge Yun Fei instinctively took a step back. His subordinates also retreated.
The boy in the yellow jacket scrutinized the scene carefully. Ge Yun Fei’s hands were still clutching his short halberds tightly, but slung over his back was a blue cloth bundle adorned with floral patterns.
Whatever the attackers were after must have been inside that bundle.
Ge Yun Fei’s dozen or so men, each armed with a weapon, maintained their formation with practiced precision, clearly veterans of many battles. Yet, amidst the flashing swords and gleaming blades, there was a child.
The boy—no older than twelve or thirteen—was thin and frail, dressed in simple blue homespun clothes. His freckled face was pale, almost corpse-like in the flickering firelight, making his freckles even more striking.
The youth in the yellow jacket noted that the child’s bones showed no hint of martial talent, making it puzzling why he was among the Xing Yun Manor group. Although the boy’s face was ordinary, entirely unremarkable, his calm indifference in the face of danger caught the youth’s attention, causing him to look a second time.
The blades gleamed once more.
Under the flash of lightning, the knives emitted a dazzling blue sheen—the unmistakable signature of the Tang Clan from Sichuan.
Ge Yun Fei’s expression changed.
“So, so you’re… what, what exactly do you want?” His throat tightened, and he didn’t even realize he was stammering.
A thunderclap shook the room, followed by a rolling boom.
As the firelight flickered, three blades slashed toward Ge Yun Fei and his men.
There was no answer.
The response to words was steel.
The clash of weapons rang out, louder and more ferocious than the storm outside. In a flash, the three blue blades of the Tang Clan shredded Xing Yun Manor’s defensive wall of swords and sabers to pieces. Severed limbs, broken weapons, and sprays of blood flew in all directions, accompanied by wails of agony.
The stench of blood filled every corner of the inn. Some of the guests, curled up in fear, began to vomit.
The frail boy had collapsed under the window, his clothes stained with blood. The youth in the yellow jacket, who had been watching the spectacle with a detached air, frowned as he observed the Tang Clan’s ruthless killing.
In the end, Ge Yun Fei realized he was the only one still standing.
The three blades, shining with a cold blue light, still blocked his moves from above, below, and at the center, as if they had never wavered.
Ge Yun Fei’s eyes were bloodshot, his killing intent surging. His trembling hands gripped his weapons tightly.
With a sudden roar, Ge Yun Fei hurled his halberds, spinning them in a sweeping arc!
This was the ultimate technique that had earned Ge Yun Fei his reputation in the martial world. The release of his twin halberds was a decisive move—if it failed to subdue his enemies, his own death would be certain. The sheer force of the attack was so overwhelming that even the assassins from the Tang Clan dared not confront it directly. The three blades were raised in unison, their edges emitting sharp, piercing whistles under the vibrations of internal energy.
With a deafening crash, all three blades shattered!
The twin halberds, deflected by the assassins’ combined energy, continued their trajectory with undiminished momentum. One flew toward the boy in the yellow jacket, while the other hurtled toward a group of cowering guests at terrifying speed.
The boy swiftly retreated, his long sleeve whipping through the air. Using the motion to his advantage, he twisted and caught the halberd’s shaft in both hands. With a sharp tear, the weapon’s wind had pierced through one of his sleeves!
He managed to stop one halberd but could only watch helplessly as the other hurtled toward the huddled group. It was too late to intervene. Knowing it would surely claim a life, he let out an involuntary cry of alarm.
At that critical moment, a hand suddenly extended from within the crowd.
The hand seemed to make a beckoning motion.
In the flickering candlelight, it exuded an inexplicable warmth that rippled outward for an instant before dissipating into the cold storm of wind, rain, and thunder.
The halberd was now in that hand.
0 Comments