Chapter Seven: When the Mo Dao Appears, Both Men and Horses Are Shattered

Lu Hu raised his eyebrows, shooting a questioning glance at Yana: Darling, did you find the strange blade?

Yana shook her head in disappointment.

Lu Hu’s hopes were dashed…

Alas, that bastard Turtlefield Rice Bucket Taro was decent enough to stir up trouble himself, took a beating, and even gave us a chance to search for the blade, but we still couldn’t manage it!

Then again, it’s not our fault. With Yana’s cleverness, she must’ve turned Turtlefield’s place upside down. The blade simply isn’t with him right now.

That turtle’s crafty as a fox.

Lu Hu raised his brows and signaled to Yana.

With a sly purse of his lips, he whistled, then turned to leave the room, Yana trailing after him.

At the main gate, four tigers were tearing into a wild boar, their attention wholly consumed by the feast. Like gluttons, they gorged themselves, eyes glued to the meat, afraid of missing a single morsel, paying no mind to guarding the entrance.

Anyone could come and go during mealtime—who cared about such trivial matters then?

“Sweetheart, is Turtlefield Rice Bucket running the salt smuggling on his own?” Lu Hu’s tone was grave and urgent.

“He’s a major salt smuggler,” Yana replied. “He has a mule team—eighteen horses, thirteen men.”

“His team must’ve already left. Do you know when they set out?”

“We saw the caravan off, hunted a pheasant on the way back, and that’s when we bumped into you.”

“So they left just recently; we still have time. You know which direction they went, don’t you? Let’s go. We must catch up.”

Yana nodded, lips pressed, and led Lu Hu through twisting paths to the stables.

It was a vast stable, rows of grass-thatched shelters housing hundreds of warhorses munching on fodder.

Seven or eight stable hands bustled about—some feeding the horses, others cleaning up manure—tending to the animals with practiced care.

When they spotted Yana, they all bowed respectfully in greeting.

The two made their way through the stables, quickly selecting four strong, swift white horses.

Leading the horses out, they each mounted one, leading another riderless horse behind, then spurred their mounts out of the camp, galloping into the night…

As Lu Hu rode at a breakneck pace, his mind churned with worries:

Despite his name, Turtlefield Rice Bucket is anything but incompetent—he’s sly and cunning. He must’ve known Dasheng would send someone for the blade, so he concocted a diversion.

Yana led the way ahead. Given the direction, they were definitely heading for that sea cucumber port. If the harbor wasn’t frozen over, the salt smugglers would have a ship waiting, ready to load the blade and spirit it back to their homeland.

Thank heavens for Yana’s help—without her, even a deity would struggle to recover the blade.

Lu Hu caught up, glancing at Yana riding neck and neck beside him. She turned her head just then; their eyes met and both smiled, a world of unspoken understanding passing between them.

Lu Hu couldn’t help but marvel at her: A young woman born to wealth and privilege, spoiled since childhood, doted on by family, raised to be willful and capricious.

But life in this harsh, frigid land meant that, like her kin, she had to hunt and forage in the wild for survival, laboring day in and day out, honing a hardy constitution.

She could grace the grandest halls, cook a feast in the kitchen, hunt wild beasts in the forest—only rogues could best her.

And I am that silver-tongued rogue—no, the rascal who’s won the heart of a beauty.

For me, she’s turned her back on home and kin. If she remains true to me, I’ll never betray her, even if it costs me my life…

They barely stopped to rest, urging their horses on through the night. By the time darkness swallowed the world, there was still no sign of their quarry.

The horses’ pace had slowed, exhaustion evident. In the pitch black, they dared not gallop wildly.

Yana reached out—Lu Hu’s heart skipped, thinking she sought his hand, but instead he found a hard piece of dried venison pressed into his palm.

Women always think ahead—despite their hasty departure, she’d brought food.

He was still chewing the jerky when, up ahead, a flickering light appeared.

They reined in, dismounted, and muzzled the horses to keep them from neighing and giving them away.

Leading the horses quietly forward, the flickering resolved into a bonfire, ringed by a dozen or so men warming themselves.

They were dressed just like Turtlefield Rice Bucket Taro—whether samurai or ronin, it was hard to tell.

Fortune favors the persistent—they’d finally caught up.

They tied their horses to a tree and crept toward the fire.

The smell of roasting meat wafted over—Lu Hu swallowed; he was hungry again.

At dinner, he’d been too busy flirting with Yana to properly eat.

Such are the sacrifices of a hopeless romantic.

The men’s boisterous chatter and laughter grew clear.

“Princess, I’ll sneak in—you cover me with your bow,” Lu Hu whispered.

“No. I’m going with you,” Yana insisted, worried.

He wrapped her in his arms. “Be good, darling. If we both go, we’ll be spotted.”

“Just be careful!” she breathed.

“Don’t worry—I have you, don’t I?” As he handed her his bow and quiver, he allowed his fingers to linger on her soft hand.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then hunched low, moving silently, inching toward the fire.

Now he could see clearly—the dark blade rested beneath a man’s rear, its cold edge glinting ominously in the night.

Eighteen horses grazed in a ring outside the fire; the bales had been unloaded, piled behind their resting owners.

Wait—only eleven men sat around the fire. Yana had said there were thirteen. Where were the other two?

The thought had barely formed when a rush of wind overhead sent snow tumbling down.

Lu Hu dodged aside just in time to avoid a fatal blow.

Someone had been lying in ambush in the trees—now that was a proper ninja turtle. Even in this icy wasteland, he could lie in wait, hidden in the branches.

The ninja swung his blade, shrieking wildly, slashing in a frenzy. Lu Hu parried desperately.

A formidable fighter—if even this “turtle” was so tough, tonight could be their last.

Suddenly the ninja cried out, clutching his throat as he fell—Yana’s arrow had found its mark.

The eleven by the fire rushed at the sound, quickly surrounding Lu Hu.

Before they could act, the one facing Lu Hu—chattering like a monkey, clearly a little chief—gave a violent shudder and collapsed, an arrow buried in his neck.

In the heartbeat of their surprise, Lu Hu roared, leapt into the air, and with two swift strokes felled two more.

Blades hacked from every side; Lu Hu could only parry and dodge, unable to strike back.

A lion surrounded by hyenas can’t kill a single one—you can’t defend your head and leave your tail exposed.

One misstep and you’d be gutted.

Suddenly a scream came from Yana’s direction. Panic seized Lu Hu—another ninja must have ambushed her.

With a furious roar, he vaulted from the encirclement, stabbing one attacker mid-leap.

Drawing his sword, he decapitated another, then charged toward Yana.

A pack of wild dogs chased at his heels.

After a few steps, he spun around, catching the pursuers off guard; in a flash, he stabbed down the lead attacker.

The others hesitated—Lu Hu lunged, cutting down another, then turned and sprinted for Yana.

She was desperately fending off the ninja’s blade with two bows.

Lu Hu rushed over and with a single slash, cleaved the ninja in two.

Yana’s right shoulder had been slashed by the ambusher. She’d been holding on with all her strength, but at the sight of Lu Hu, she finally relaxed, slumping weakly to the ground.

He scooped her into his arms, only to find themselves surrounded by six samurai.

This time, their leader—tall for the group, though hardly more than five-foot-three—stood before them, brandishing the strange blade.

Six opponents: four swords, two spears.

Lu Hu held Yana with his left arm, spinning his own blade with his right, dancing in place—confusing his enemies, making it impossible to predict his next move.

The six circled, searching for an opening.

Suddenly, with a wild cry, Lu Hu hurled his sword—striking the man with the strange blade square in the throat.

Even as the sword flew, he lunged forward, crashing into the man’s arms. Grabbing the blade, he swung forcefully, cleaving two charging ronin in half.

Once the strange blade was unleashed, men and horses alike would be felled—let alone two monkey-like little pirates.

The remaining three tried to flee, but it was too late; in a blink, all were cut down.

Without delay, Lu Hu tore his own clothes to bind Yana’s wounded shoulder.

Carrying her to the fire, he found a water bag and slowly poured water into her mouth.

Yana had lost consciousness, water trickling from her lips.

Lu Hu drank some water himself, rinsed his mouth, and spat it aside. Then he took another mouthful, pressing his lips to hers, slowly feeding her the water.

After only two sips, Yana suddenly stirred, eyes fluttering open. She reached for his neck, and they fell into a passionate kiss…