Escape

As the two stepped into the small courtyard of the inn, Cheng Yu and the group of mountain bandits followed them out. Cheng Yu smiled with a hint of mischief and said, “Why the hurry, gentlemen? I was hoping to have a good chat with you both.”

Zhang Ling pulled Song Linjie to a halt; he was naturally worried Cheng Yu might suddenly become violent. Turning back, he replied with a polite smile, “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. We truly have urgent matters to attend to and cannot stay to enjoy your company. Another time, perhaps, we’ll bring fine wine to Golden Dragon Stronghold and apologize in person.”

Cheng Yu’s sharp gaze suddenly shifted to Song Linjie, his tone tinged with regret. “That’s a pity. But I see both of you are carrying swords. Coincidentally, I’m also skilled with the blade. I can’t help but wish to exchange a few moves with you, young man.”

Song Linjie made to draw his sword, but Zhang Ling stopped him. “Please forgive us, Chief Cheng. We’re but wandering swordsmen, and our skills are modest at best. We dare not display them before someone of your caliber.”

To avoid further trouble, Zhang Ling had all his possessions on him. He reached into his sleeve, pretending to search with some effort, and finally produced a silver ingot, which he handed to Cheng Yu with cupped hands. “Chief Cheng, we’ll take our leave.”

Cheng Yu sneered, “In that case, I won’t bother with pleasantries. I want your blade. You may leave, but the sword stays.”

Song Linjie was about to draw his weapon when Zhang Ling suddenly pointed skyward. “Look, an airplane!”

He’d thought such a clumsy excuse would fool no one, but to his surprise, all twenty or so men—including Cheng Yu and Song Linjie—looked up at the sky. Song Linjie, still confused, asked, “Zhang Ling, what sort of chicken can fly?”

As Song Linjie stared foolishly at the sky, he was yanked away and dragged out of the courtyard. Quietly, the two led their horses outside. The sound of their horses’ whinnying finally roused the bandits, who could only watch as they rode off into the distance.

Cheng Yu glanced at the three remaining horses in the yard, untied one, and mounted it in pursuit, shouting furiously, “After them!”

Their horses galloped on without pause. Song Linjie yawned again. Zhang Ling eyed him. “Still not awake?”

Song Linjie steadied himself. “Why are we running, anyway?”

Staring ahead, Zhang Ling replied, “Did you notice how Cheng Yu knocked on the table? That strength—unless he’s naturally powerful, I’d wager he’s a martial expert. Add in the twenty or so bandits, and if you insisted on fighting, leaving would be difficult—unless you’re willing to give up the Heaven-Tempering Blade.”

Song Linjie shook his head vigorously and spurred his horse forward.

The two rode slowly into a mountain gorge, flanked by sheer cliffs impossible to scale. The gap between the rocky walls was wide enough, but Song Linjie frowned, lost in thought, before suddenly exclaiming, “This gorge is a dead end!”

Zhang Ling had already stopped his horse, gazing silently ahead. “Next time, could you mention that a bit sooner?”

Scratching his head, Song Linjie replied, “I’m too tired. Thanks to you, I haven’t slept well for days—my mind’s a mess. What now? Do we fight our way back?”

Zhang Ling coughed. “Forget it. Let’s just wait for them.”

He lay back on his horse, desperately absorbing as much inner strength as he could, trying to integrate it. The sound of approaching hooves grew louder, and Zhang Ling sat up.

Only three riders arrived. Facing the fierce-looking Cheng Yu, Zhang Ling smiled. “Chief Cheng, you’re too kind. We only lost our way; no need to see us off.”

Cheng Yu replied with a soft laugh, “Since I’ve shown such courtesy, shouldn’t you reciprocate? Perhaps by giving me that blade.”

Feigning hesitation, Zhang Ling asked, “If we give you the blade, will you let us go?”

Cheng Yu thumped his chest confidently. “Of course. I am a man of my word.”

The remaining nineteen bandits had just appeared in the distance, all panting heavily. Zhang Ling turned to Song Linjie. “In that case, Brother Song, give Chief Cheng the blade. I’ll find you another one later.”

He shot Song Linjie a furtive look, his lips curling into a sly smile. Song Linjie caught on naturally, adopting a look of reluctant resignation. He dismounted, carrying the Heaven-Tempering Blade toward Cheng Yu.

Cheng Yu dismounted as well, inwardly delighted, ready to kill them once the blade was in hand. When only five paces separated them, the Heaven-Tempering Blade flashed from its sheath—its scarlet fire-pattern facing Song Linjie, the blue fire-pattern toward Cheng Yu. With one powerful stroke, Song Linjie swung the blade at Cheng Yu’s raised right arm.

Ordinary men could split stone with this blade, let alone someone of Song Linjie’s third-rank prowess. The forceful inner strength infused in the strike met no expected spray of blood—just the screech of blade on metal. Cheng Yu was unharmed but staggered back from the impact, tearing away his robe to reveal a steel bracer beneath.

Even so, the special bracer bore a clear gash, while the Heaven-Tempering Blade remained pristine. Cheng Yu laughed triumphantly. “Didn’t expect that, did you? I’m always prepared—how else could I remain chief all these years? But now I’ve seen the blade’s true worth. Today, it will be mine.”

Zhang Ling slapped his horse, charging at Cheng Yu. Cheng Yu dodged aside and grabbed Zhang Ling’s ankle, yanking him off the horse and hurling him against the cliff wall.

Zhang Ling’s chest was crushed by the impact, and after a moment suspended against the cliff, he dropped to the ground, suppressing the urge to cough blood as he forced himself upright. Cheng Yu sprang at him like a giant ape, blade descending. Zhang Ling drew his sword to parry.

He was sent flying, crashing to the ground and spitting a mouthful of blood.

Cheng Yu’s face twisted in rage; he was about to press his advantage when Song Linjie attacked from behind. Cheng Yu wheeled to defend.

The two mounted bandits finally reacted, swinging their blades at Song Linjie. He broke away from Cheng Yu and evaded, then swung the Heaven-Tempering Blade in a wide arc, slashing both bandits across the throat. They fell, first slowly, then swiftly, leaving only a fleeting trace of blood on the blade.

Cheng Yu charged at Song Linjie, and after a clash of blades, both retreated. Sensing danger behind, Cheng Yu turned to find Zhang Ling attacking with his sword. Forcing himself to block, both weapons were knocked from their hands.

At that very moment, Zhang Ling summoned all his strength—including that which he’d absorbed from Liao Yingdong—and unleashed a fist like a crashing wave. Cheng Yu countered. Left fist met right, but Zhang Ling continued to channel his inner power, his arm swelling with force.

In the next moment, Zhang Ling stood firm, while Cheng Yu was smashed against the cliff, lingering there for several seconds before collapsing unconscious.

The rest of the bandits, just arriving, raised their blades and charged. Zhang Ling glanced at Song Linjie; with a shared look of understanding, both vaulted onto the nearest horses. Song Linjie led the way. Seeing their comrades felled so easily, the bandits lost their nerve and parted, making way—after all, with their chief nowhere in sight, who would dare claim otherwise?

Thus the two rode out of the gorge in succession, vanishing into the distance.