Chương 20: "The two of you did terribly"

Ch 20: "The two of you did terribly" Zhen lay motionless, his muscles tense and ready as he continued to pretend to sleep. Chul's nicker came again, sharper this time. He tightened his grip around the hammers' handles. Desperate to get any hint of what was happening, he used his enhanced senses to try to find anything that might give him an edge. The world sharpened to a landscape of sound. The distant crackle of their dying fire. The whisper of wind through leaves overhead.

And then, beneath it all, the barest rustle of grass.

It wasn't the same sound the wind made as it swept over the clearing. This sound was focused, and it moved with purpose. Something, or someone, was creeping toward him through the dark. Now that he was aware of it, Zhen tracked the sound. Whoever was approaching knew their business. Each footfall came down carefully, their weight distributed to avoid snapping twigs or crushing dry leaves, but unmistakable once you had picked it out. Zhen kept his breathing steady.

Surprise was one of the few things he had in his favor, and he continued to mimick the rhythm of a man deep in sleep. The footsteps drew closer, then stopped behind his head. The silence stretched for long moments. Zhen's heart hammered against his ribs, but he forced his chest to rise and fall in that same slow, even pattern. His fingers tightened around the handles of the hammers beneath his blanket. Then he heard the whisper of steel sliding free of a sheath.

Most would not notice it, but it was unmistakable to his blacksmith's ears. Zhen's mind raced. A blade drawn meant the decision was made. Whatever came next would happen fast. He had seconds, maybe less, before that weapon fell. His training with Shuo flooded back. Don't telegraph your strike. Trust your body and your training. Now or never. Zhen threw himself sideways as steel split the air where his head had been. The blade hammered into the earth with a thud.

He rolled and came up in a crouch, both hammers raised into a guard position. For a moment he was sure he would see Shuo standing there ready with another of his inane tests, but then a chill ran down his spine. Black robes in a heavy fabric that drank the light. The unmistakable silhouette of a member of the Order of Folded Shadows. The man straightened from his failed strike and clicked his tongue against his teeth.

"How did a child like you detect my approach?" No amusement. Just a professional irritation, and he didn't even bother to lower his voice. The cultivator stalked forward, his sword angled low and ready. He had abandoned all pretense of stealth. Moonlight glinted to reveal the armor and metal helm under his robes. Zhen backed away, circling toward where the banked embers of their fire still glowed.

"Shuo!" His voice sounded shrill even to his own ears, but pride meant nothing if you were dead. Silence. Zhen stole a glance across the fire to where the old man had bedded down. A neatly folded blanket lay on empty ground. No body or sign of struggle. Zhen's chest tightened. Whatever had happened to Shuo was a mystery he would love to remain alive to solve. For now though, the position was stark: he would have to deal with this alone. Or maybe not quite alone.

A thunderous whinny shattered the night as Chul galloped over, her hooves churning dirt as she slid to a halt beside him. She positioned herself at his flank, ears pinned flat, ready. The Folded Shadow cultivator let out a dry, brittle laugh.

"Sweet." Moonlight slid across the blade.

"Elder Lau-Phu only ordered me to bring you back alive." His lips peeled back.

"The beast I'll kill for pleasure." Zhen's jaw clenched. The Eye of Xiezhi flared to life with a thought. The world crystallized to reveal all its weaknesses. The flaws in the cultivator's stance, the angle of his blade, the way his weight settled on the balls of his feet, minor as they were, all mapped onto Zhen's vision. He planted his feet and squared his shoulders. If he was going to be taken, he wouldn't go easily.

"Try." The cultivator lunged, his sword dark against the fading firelight. Zhen threw himself left while Chul charged right in a flanking maneuver they had drilled many times. The Folded Shadow's blade slashed toward Zhen, but Chul's hooves forced him to pivot mid-strike. The sword whispered past Zhen's arm, close enough to slice fabric but not flesh. At least their coordination was holding. Chul wheeled for another pass, her Moonlight Steel horseshoes churning the dirt.

The cultivator's eyes tracked her movement, calculating. They had barely left a gap but the cultivator stepped deliberately into that sliver of space to swing toward Zhen's chest. Zhen caught it with his right hammer. The impact jarred his arm to the shoulder, the cultivator's strength was clearly backed by qi. Indeed, without qi-enhanced muscles of his own, Zhen's arm would have broken. Even so, numbness spread through his shoulder. Royal Road is the home of this novel.

Visit there to read the original and support the author. Yet as the blade collided with the hammer, the impact didn't make the usual bright, clean ring of metal on metal; instead, there was a dull thud. Turning his Eye of Xiezhi onto it, Zhen looked in horror at the fracture that had spider-webbed across the hammer's iron face. His mundane blacksmithing tools were never meant to fight cultivators' weapons, and the metal was dying in his hands But there was no time to worry about it.

The blade disengaged and swept low. Zhen backpedaled, and his heel caught on a root. He staggered but kept his guard up. Chul drove forward to allow him to regain his stance, her hooves flashing at the cultivator's flank. He pivoted, and his blade flickered out in a counter that opened a shallow cut along her side even as he evaded her charge. She screamed and kicked, forcing him back a single step, before he turned and flowed toward Zhen.

"Competent enough," the cultivator said, contempt threading his voice, "for farmhands." His blade darted in again.

"But without the Cleft Shade, you're nothing." Zhen blocked, his hammers meeting steel in rapid succession. Sweat stung Zhen's eyes. Each strike drove him back another step, and his mind raced. He was doing what he could, but the cultivator's technique was simply better. Chul came in again from an angle that should have caught the Folded Shadow's blind side. Zhen read her movement through the Eye and shifted to press the opening. But the cultivator read it too, from instinct and experience.

He sidestepped with minimal motion, and suddenly Zhen's forward momentum carried him too close to Chul's path. Her shoulder clipped his side hard enough to break his balance. He stumbled toward the fire's edge and embers scattered across his legs, burning through his trousers. He cursed once more. Fighting against beasts was one thing, but now that he and Chul faced a skilled, intelligent opponent, the mountain they still had to climb became all too clear. The Folded Shadow laughed.

"I can't believe my luck." He pressed forward, his blade a constant threat.

"Everyone thought you'd left the Empire." Another strike. Zhen caught it on his left hammer, but the force numbed his fingers.

"But Lau-Phu didn't want to leave any avenues unchecked." Zhen used the Eye to track the man's movements, searching for weakness. But his technique was tight and refined with no obvious gaps. Despite the danger, Zhen was impressed. The Order of Folded Shadows clearly did not suffer incompetents in their ranks"I'm going to be royally rewarded when I bring you in." The blade slashed across Zhen's forearm, drawing blood.

"And I won't have to share with anyone." Chul charged again. This time Zhen held his ground, letting her pass in front. The cultivator's attention split for half a breath. Zhen struck. His hammer caught the man's shoulder with a satisfying crunch and Zhen could see the crack in the man's armor. The Folded Shadow hissed and his sword licked out. The tip opened Zhen's cheek from ear to jaw. Hot blood poured down his neck. Zhen's arms burned and his lungs screamed for air.

He glanced over and saw Chul had red welts across her hide where the blade had scored her. They wouldn't last much longer. Then the Eye caught something. The merest of delays when the cultivator transitioned from a high guard to a low one. Finally a flaw. But exploiting it meant stepping inside the man's reach and accepting a hit that might be fatal, to deliver a blow that definitely would be. Zhen's jaw clenched. It wasn't as if he had a choice. The cultivator attacked and Zhen moved forward instead of back.

The sword carved across his ribs but he ignored it as he pivoted. His right hammer came around while he flooded qi into his muscles to empower the blow. The impact caught the side of the Folded Shadow's head. It punched through the helmet, then shattered the bone beneath. The man's eyes rolled back and he collapsed. Zhen stood over the crumpled body with his hammer poised but the assassin would never move again.

His breath came in ragged gasps that clouded in the cool night air and blood dripped from Zhen's ribs, then hit the dirt with a soft patter. He looked down at his hammer. There was no need to use the Eye to see what was apparent. A hairline crack split the head from top to bottom. He had survived, but his hammer had not. The clearing settled into a quiet that was only broken by his labored breathing.

Then there was a movement in the depths of the shadows at the edge of the clearing, and Zhen and Chul moved as one to face this new threat. Shuo emerged from the dark tree line, his hands clasped behind his back. He moved with an unhurried gait, as if he were out for an evening stroll rather than returning from having watched a fight to the death. Zhen opened his mouth, not even sure which of the questions, accusations, and rage building up inside him would make it out first.

Shuo raised one hand, and the gesture stopped Zhen cold. The old man glided across the clearing and knelt beside the corpse to search it. He let out a satisfied grunt as he pulled a small belt pouch free from the dead man's waist. Reaching inside, he rummaged for a moment, then withdrew a roll of parchment that appeared too long to have ever fit within such a small bag. With a flick of Shuo's wrist, the pouch flew through the air, and Zhen caught it on reflex, his bloody fingers closing around the soft leather.

Shuo didn't even check to see that Zhen had it as he unrolled the parchment, his grey eyes racing across the text. Zhen stared down at the innocuous-looking pouch in his palm. It felt light. Almost empty. Curiosity overrode his exhaustion and pain. He reached inside. His hand went in past his wrist, which just wasn't possible. The interior space was far larger on the inside than out. His fingers brushed against some smooth stones and a coin pouch.

"Oh yes, that's a storage pouch." Shuo didn't glance up from the parchment.

"It's useless to me, given I have my ring, so you may as well have it." He flipped to the next section of the scroll.

"Think it's got a few spirit stones and some money inside, but you'll figure it out." Zhen pulled his arm free and stared at the pouch. The leather showed no sign of the expanded interior he had just touched. His blood-smeared fingers had left dark prints across its surface that disappeared even as he watched to leave the pouch spotless. Shuo finally looked up from the parchment. His grey eyes tracked from Zhen to Chul and back again.

"The two of you did terribly." The words landed like a slap. Something snapped inside Zhen, and the pent-up fear and frustration erupted.

"Where were you?" His voice came out raw and ragged.

"During the fight. Where were you?" Shuo gestured toward the dark tree line with the scroll.

"Over there. Watching."

"Watching." Zhen's hands trembled.

"You were watching."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you intervene?" Shuo's brow furrowed, confusion crossing his face.

"If I did, you'd have learnt nothing." He tucked the parchment into his robes.

"This Folded Shadow operative has been following us for weeks. It took me a while to work out how to tempt him in." Zhen's blood chilled.

"He was cautious, though." Shuo tilted his head, a faint touch of smug satisfaction showing through.

"If I hadn't ostentatiously gotten out my sword and made a show of flying away before sneaking back, he may never have approached." His expression darkened.

"But we're getting distracted. Back to the point. In your first engagement against an opponent that could actually think," he glanced at the corpse, "your performance was embarrassing."

"Embarrassing?" Zhen heard his voice climb higher but couldn't stop it.

"Far too many mistakes in both your decisions and their execution." Shuo shook his head sorrowfully.

"It's clear you need to train harder." Zhen raised his right hammer. The crack splitting the head gleamed in the dying firelight.

"Well," he said.

"That's going to be tricky." Shuo stepped closer and plucked the hammer from Zhen's grip. He turned it over in his hands, examining the fracture with a critical eye.

"Hmm. For once, you make a good point. We may need to change our plans."