Chapter Twenty-Five: Chivalry (Comments Welcome!)
Wang Erma was originally a resident of Stone Sparrow Village. Although he was idle and relied entirely on his elderly parents for support, he had always been honest and straightforward—until everything changed two days ago.
He vividly remembered that sunny afternoon. His father, who had gone to the city market that morning, rushed home in such haste that he didn’t even bother to wipe the sweat from his clothes. He dropped the donkey cart and headed straight for the house where the village elder resided.
At the time, Wang Erma was curious, chewing on a stalk of wild grass and joking with his friends.
Then he saw his father hurriedly leave with the village elder, heading toward the Wangjia Ravine beyond the mountain. Before departing, they called over Uncle Wu, Second Uncle, and several other hunters from the village for a quick exchange of words.
Looking back, it was likely they were discussing how to deal with the rampant Baiguo bandits plaguing the area around Shiya County.
Unfortunately, it was already too late.
At midday, someone came running from outside the village, shrieking, stumbling, with a torn corner of his clothes and half of the fabric dragging on the dusty ground.
Wang Erma recognized him—it was the lackey from Old Master Liu’s household, who had served the Liu family since his grandfather’s time.
Wang Erma wondered if he had encountered wild wolves to be so terrified.
But what followed behind him was not a pack of wolves; now, Wang Erma wished it had been.
Bang!
A wooden club studded with iron nails struck the fence.
Wang Erma stood numb, staring at the figure behind the wood, just half an arm’s length away.
A young man, skin sallow, hair hanging loosely behind his head, lips trembling, his dark eyes filled with terror.
Terror—for him.
For the wolf-tooth club in his hands.
Bang! Bang!
Wang Erma thought, how wonderful it would have been if he had run away two days earlier, how much better if he had gone with his father and the village elder to seek help at Wangjia Ravine. If only… he hadn’t knelt.
Boom—
A dull sound, the fence broke open. He numbly continued to raise the wolf-tooth club high, then brought it down.
With a jolt, the club trembled in his hands, and a spray of yellowish-white matter splattered across his face, making his already gaunt cheeks look even more sinister and frightening.
He paused, looked down; the young man lay on the ground, his face caved in, blood pooling everywhere, silent.
Just like his friends who had fallen beside him.
Bang! Another sound. He stared blankly at the wolf-tooth club, now low and slanting, a faint confusion flickering across his numb expression.
Turning around, he saw a stout woman, tears and snot streaming down her face, her eyes red, gripping a rolling pin tightly, raising it high—bang!
…
Approaching midday, the sunlight was dazzling.
But the village elder of Ma Family Hamlet felt a chill in his heart, colder than the depths of winter.
Guangyong Prefecture had long been free of war; even when there was a recent uprising in the north, villagers treated it as idle chatter—it was far away, and for these country folks who had watched over their ancestral land for generations, it was but a rumor.
But the Baiguo bandits were different—they were right here in Shiya County, right before his eyes.
There were no barricades in the village, only hastily assembled wooden fences, now damaged and pushed aside. Those vicious, hideous bandits wielded sticks and swords, fighting fiercely with the villagers.
Fortunately, most of the bandits were thin and frail, as if they hadn’t eaten properly in days. So, while the killing intent simmered on both sides, the villagers, with their numbers, managed to hold their ground for now.
But…
The village elder gripped his spear tightly. He had served in the army in his youth and now stared at a burly man leisurely riding a horse nearby.
His arms were thick, thigh muscles bulging, temples throbbing, and his tiger eyes radiated a chilling light.
His throat tightened, sweat gradually dampening his back.
Clearly, this was a trained fighter.
Likely not weak.
Even these mere foot soldiers already left the villagers struggling, with casualties mounting. If this man dismounted to join the fight—or even made a short charge on his mediocre horse—the entire line could collapse.
Once inside the village, with his martial skill, he could easily slaughter everyone.
Recalling the recent rumors from the county about the Baiguo bandits’ deeds, the village elder wracked his brain for a solution, but found none. He could only pray that the man would delay his attack, and that the county soldiers and Liu Family Village men would arrive soon.
Meanwhile, what the village elder feared most finally happened. The man on horseback, seeing his bandit crew locked in fierce combat with the thin, dark-faced farmers, grew increasingly impatient.
“A bunch of useless trash!”
He dismounted—the horse, taken from a place called Stone Sparrow Village, was ordinary but serviceable, so he wasn’t willing to harm it just yet. Speaking of which, the Liu family there was wealthy; their courtyard had three cellars, all filled with copper coins.
And their daughter—pretty, but delicate.
Not nearly as sturdy as the girls from Red Boat House in Song City.
With a sour expression, the man shoved aside the noisy bandits blocking the village entrance. Two stubborn ones received a slap from his thick, black palm, falling to the ground with broken teeth, blood gurgling from their mouths.
Mere cannon fodder, their deaths insignificant.
He moved inward, slowly drawing the curved saber from his waist.
There were many types of blades; in the western provinces, the Miao and curved sabers were prominent, while straight-back and double-edged swords were less common among martial artists.
“Ah, ah, ah! Die!”
The last bandit was pulled aside, revealing a square-faced man with wide, furious eyes, arms raised, teeth clenched, swinging a cleaver diagonally at the burly man.
—
Squelch!
A sidestep, a lift, a thrust.
The burly man’s face remained calm, deftly evading, but his lips curled into a cruel smile.
Behind him, the square-faced man’s neck split open, blood gushing, his face cleaved apart, the windpipe faintly visible.
The smile faded. The burly man shook his head inwardly—these were merely farmers, powerless, their moves riddled with flaws.
Honestly, killing such people bored him.
He still hoped he might find something “interesting” once inside the village.
Shing—
Clang!
Suddenly, a short sword stabbed straight at him. His heart skipped a beat; years of martial training and countless battles triggered his instincts. He raised his elbow, surging power through his arm, pulling the curved blade behind his head to block.
The strike was forceful, the tremor passing through the blade into his palm, piercing his very skin.
A master of channeling force!
He instantly made his judgment, ignoring the furious villagers closing in, his gaze fixed beyond the crowd—
A young man in white short garments, pale green outer coat, sword-browed, star-eyed, his features fair and masculine. At that moment, he was propelling himself forward, wielding a cold iron sword, rushing toward the village entrance with incredible speed.
“Baiguo bandit!”
“Prepare to die!”
The young man roared, righteous indignation blazing.
Ah, a heroic martial youth…
The burly man grinned, cold light brewing in his eyes. He thought that if he captured this one, perhaps he wouldn’t kill him right away; slaughtering the whole village before his eyes might prove entertaining!
His tongue licked his lips. He struck a villager attempting a sneak attack with such force that the man soared several feet before crashing to the ground, wailing helplessly.
Boom! With the path clear, he exerted himself, leaving cracks in the earth beneath his feet.
He shot forward several yards, body twisting, saber curved like the crescent moon, his dark face locked onto the charging young hero, a hint of a smile flickering.
Dealing with hot-headed youths like this—he had plenty of experience, having dispatched many in Song City.
“You’re next!”