“The rice candy there is famous. I used to buy them when I was younger.
“Miss Peng! You’re looking beautiful as always. Those earrings are perfectly sized for your delicate ears. Are you interested in joining us for lunch?”
In this way, Wu Ying and Zhong Shei made their way to the restaurant. When they were finally neared the restaurant after a good thirty minutes—mostly punctuated by Zhong Shei’s frequent stops—Wu Ying caught a glimpse of a familiar face walking into a side street. He frowned, staring at the figures that streamed in after.
“What?”
“Bandits,” Wu Ying said.
Having made up his mind, Wu Ying turned away from the restaurant and moved toward the side street the bandit group had disappeared down, all the while craning his neck in search of additional members on the main road. Not seeing any, Wu Ying sped up before coming to an abrupt halt when Zhong Shei’s hand landed on his shoulder.
“You can’t just say things like that and disappear!”
“I saw Ji Ang walk into that side street,” Wu Ying said as he shrugged off the hand.
As he turned the corner, Wu Ying spotted the last of the figures that had followed Ji Ang step into the doorway of a bar. Frowning, Wu Ying stared down the street.
“Are you sure?” Zhong Shei asked when he caught up once again.
“Mostly,” Wu Ying said. Even though he’d only caught a glimpse, Ji Ang’s face was not one that was easy to forget. At least, not for Wu Ying.
“And he was walking around in broad daylight?” Zhong Shei’s face grew grim. “Then the rumors are true. He has paid off the guards and magistrate. Come on.”
“Wait. What?” Wu Ying said as Zhong Shei started down the street, hand on his sword. Automatically, Wu Ying followed his companion.
“How many were there?”
“Seven others.”
“Good.” Zhong Shei stopped when Wu Ying gripped his arm, dragging him to a standstill.
Wu Ying dropped his hand when Zhong Shei shot him a cold look, never removing his hand from his sword’s hilt. “What do you think you’re doing? There are seven of them. You aren’t even a guard here.”
“I don’t intend to arrest him.”
“That’s even worse! You can’t go about killing people.”
“Not people. Ji Ang and his crew. They’re all wanted bandits. They all have a bounty on their heads,” Zhong Shei said. “I will not let him escape. The blood on his hands could wash away Mount Tai[23]! Together, we can take them. His bandits are all trash but him.”
“I never agreed to this,” Wu Ying said, shaking his head. “I’ve got a mission to complete, and fighting him again isn’t part of it.”
“Don’t you want revenge? Does your blood not boil?”
“No,” Wu Ying said.
Zhong Shei snorted, reading the lie in Wu Ying’s clenched jaw.
But the cultivator turned away, moving to the exit before he stopped as a familiar trio of figures blocked it. “How did…”
“Told you I recognized him.” A voice behind Wu Ying made him turn as the remainder of Ji Ang’s group came out with their leader.
“Cào[24],” Wu Ying cursed while drawing his sword. He eyed the edges of the alleyway and grimaced even further. The Long family style revolved around movement, so this was a really bad place for him to display his swordsmanship. Luckily, the Northern Shen Kicking style he had been studying actually had footwork that worked well in such tight spaces.
“I’ll take him. You watch our back,” Zhong Shei said, the usual light-hearted merchant’s son gone. The lieutenant who had stopped Wu Ying at the gate had returned, all stern-faced and serious. “Wish I’d brought my armor…”
“Don’t we all,” Wu Ying muttered. Damn his curiosity. Damn Zhong Shei for slowing him down. All he’d wanted to do was confirm matters before he reported it. “Stay alive.”
Ji Ang and his men didn’t seem content to talk or posture much either, already dashing forward to meet the pair from both directions. Only Ji Ang held back, content to let his men deal with them first.
Wu Ying had no more time to glance back as the first bandit arrived, holding a shortened sabre overhand. Reacting on instinct, Wu Ying threw a stop-lunge, catching his opponent in the throat. Immediately, Wu Ying recovered and the bandit fell, gurgling and clawing at his wound. As the pair behind the bandit stumbled around their fallen friend, Wu Ying pressed his sudden advantage, landing a few light, cutting blows.
Only when the pair had retreated out of his range, over the top of their dying friend, did Wu Ying have a moment to think. In the momentary stillness, Wu Ying realized what had happened—his day of intense fighting with Duan Rang had seen his battle sense grow sharper, his sense of openings firmer. Since the only chances he’d ever had of landing a blow on Duan Rang had been fleeting moments, the resolution in his attacks had grown sharper.
The grunting and clash of blades behind Wu Ying reminded the cultivator that a more desperate battle was going on behind him. Ji Ang was a cultivation level above Zhong Shei, so the fight behind him would be significantly more dangerous. Considering the bandits before him had stopped moving, Wu Ying decided it was time to finish this.
Dragon steps was the basic movement technique in Wu Ying’s sword fighting style. It taught the stylist how to cover ground explosively with no windup or tell-tale movement. In a flash, Wu Ying bounced forward, appearing before one of the bandits even as he executed the Sword’s Truth. The straight lunge sought the bandit’s heart, and only a last-minute twist allowed the bandit to escape the immediately lethal attack. Instead, the blade tore through the bandit’s ribcage, puncturing a lung and tearing out of the bandit’s chest. For a moment, Wu Ying’s blade was stuck. The other bandit took full advantage of the opportunity.
Crane stretching in the water saw Wu Ying drop and weave, dodging the cut before he threw a rising knee, catching the inside of the remaining bandit’s thigh. The strike buckled the bandit’s body before Wu Ying continued the twist and rise, striking with his elbow as his leg landed. The bandit staggered backward and was finished off by a simple cut to the throat.
Moving away from the corpses—or soon-to-be corpses—Wu Ying approached the fight between Zhong Shei and Ji Ang. Zhong Shei had already maimed one and killed another bandit, but was now hard-pressed as Ji Ang joined the fight with the remaining bandit. Anger radiated from the bandit leader at the loss of his men. A hard strike caught Zhong Shei’s jian, sending the guard to his knees, where the other bandit’s sword stabbed into his shoulder.
“You damned cultivators. I’ll kill you all!” Ji Ang growled as he raised his weapon over his head.
“No, you won’t,” Wu Ying said as he blocked the fatal blow.
Shoving with his body, he pushed Zhong Shei back, using his scabbard to strike the other bandit across the face peremptorily as the pair tumbled away from the bandits. Hopefully Zhong Shei would have enough time to recover.
“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” Ji Ang said as the pair fought, their blades flashing down the shaded alley.
Feet pounding, Ji Ang finally caught a break as Wu Ying’s initial momentum faltered, sending back a riposte that had Wu Ying retreating for defense. Silently, the pair observed one another over the tips of their weapons.
“You’ve gotten better,” Ji Ang complimented.
“You’re still as bloodthirsty as ever,” Wu Ying replied, his eyes narrow.
It was, in its own way, a compliment. Ji Ang’s killing intent, the focus that he brought to the fight, was amazing. The subtle pressure of an opponent who had taken lives, one after the other, was like nothing that Wu Ying had ever faced—except once, briefly. If not for that final strike by Yuan Rang, Wu Ying might have found himself seriously unnerved. But having faced death again and again, Wu Ying was no longer the novice he had been. Now the likelihood of death was less worrisome.