Chapter 26: The Fleeing Pawn

Ling Chi, without hesitation, recommended them, along with several promising children from Dahuang Village, to the martial arts academy. By “promising,” he meant those with both physical talent and decent family finances. The cost of martial training was high; an ordinary family of three could hardly afford it unless the child’s talent was truly extraordinary. In such cases, Ling Chi would make an exception, quietly instructing the senior disciple to collect a reduced fee.

Among them was a boy named Huang Goudan, whose aptitude was outstanding, though his family was destitute. Ling Chi specifically asked the senior disciple to accept him, believing that kindness to others was kindness to oneself. He even gave the boy a new name: Jing Yi—signifying auspiciousness, kindness, and greatness. He sought to plant a seed of good karma, for as one sows in spring, so shall one reap in autumn.

Time flew by quickly, and it had been nearly twenty days since Ling Chi took up his new post in Willow Town. One day, after many idle hours, he decided to go out for a ride, swords at his side, feeling like John Marston from Red Dead Redemption. The reconstruction of Willow Town was progressing slowly, but the local government offices were now fully staffed. The task that remained was recruiting refugees and restoring production—matters left to Mayor Xu Dongfeng, assigned by Magistrate Cui.

Ling Chi wore a bamboo hat, his saber slung over his shoulder, and rode a sturdy black horse. Though powerfully built, the horse was gentle by nature. With no particular destination, he decided to ride into the mountains, hoping to encounter a fated demon or spirit to aid in his cultivation. The black horse trotted steadily along the mountain path, trees gliding by on either side, until a sudden clang of a wooden block shattered his reverie.

“Boy, leave your ransom money and you can go!” a voice called from the trees. Ling Chi looked up to see a red-faced man perched among the branches, aiming an arrow directly at him.

“Be sensible—leave the money, the horse, and the blade, and we’ll let you walk away,” another voice called from the woods behind him.

Several figures emerged from the forest. The leader wore unfamiliar armor and carried a five-foot-long spear; the others were clad in ragged leather, clearly deserters from the army.

Ling Chi nudged his hat with his saber hilt, glanced around, and, seeing no further threats, sprang into action.

With a ringing sound, his saber flashed from its sheath, striking straight at the armored man.

The leader was furious. Even if you don’t want to bargain, shouldn’t you at least ask why we’re on this road? Drawing your sword without a word—where did this reckless fool come from? Did he not know that the world is built on human relationships?

“Brothers, form up—take him down!” the armored man commanded.

Ling Chi ignored the others, intent on felling the leader first. His saber swept out a dazzling arc, the blade flashing like lightning, golden thunder flickering along its edge.

The armored man’s aura flared, revealing his cultivation at the Meridian Opening stage. He raised his spear and brought it crashing down with a howl of wind, aiming for Ling Chi’s head.

In that instant, Ling Chi’s body surged with thunder, his speed increasing dramatically.

[Nine Palaces Wandering Dragon]

His form flickered, rapidly closing in on the armored man. Arrows shrieked toward him from behind, but he paid them no mind. Gripping his saber with both hands, he twisted his waist and unleashed a blow of tremendous force. The armored man raised his spear to block.

With a metallic clang, the spear held against Ling Chi’s explosive strike, but the force transmitted through the weapon struck the armored man like a boulder, sending him flying backward.

Before he could catch his breath, the suffocating gleam of the saber’s edge descended again. Ling Chi shifted positions, unleashing dozens of dazzling strikes in an instant. The clash of metal, the rip of cloth, and the cries of men filled the air.

When the two separated, the armored man—now just a man—lay in a pool of blood, his chest barely rising and falling. Ling Chi had spared his life, turning instead to the remaining bandits.

“Brothers, kill him and avenge the boss!”

The remaining bandits quickly formed up, the archer in the tree realizing his arrows were useless, discarded his bow and drew his blade.

There are many types of military formations, each requiring the soldiers to cultivate the same killing technique so their murderous intent could merge. These bandits now formed the Black Tiger Killing Formation.

Ling Chi charged headlong into their midst, relying on his own superior strength. His assault was like chopping vegetables—within moments, the formation was shattered, and the bandits lay sprawled on the ground.

He straightened his clothes, his gaze cold as ice.

“You gang of military thugs, robbing travelers in broad daylight—you’ve got nerve,” Ling Chi said, speaking his first words of the day. He preferred to subdue his foes before explaining his reasoning; at such times, people were usually eager to listen.

One of the bandits, less injured than the rest, struggled to his knees and bowed low.

“We were blind and dared offend you, my lord. But we did not become outlaws by choice—driven by desperation, we had no other path. Please, spare our lives,” the bandit pleaded, his voice full of sincerity.

“We were once soldiers of the Lian’an Army in the south. Our officers embezzled our pay, punished us without cause, and fabricated crimes against us. None of us can return home. My eldest brother, once a centurion, could only lead us into these hills to await...”

The bandit’s voice trailed off as he noticed the fierce young man before him regarding him with a strange expression.

“Why did you stop? You seemed to have plenty more to say. Go on!”

“You suffered injustice in the army, so you took to the road and began robbing—do you think the merchants and travelers you preyed upon deserved to die? And you dare to put on a show of chivalry. Tell me, how many have you killed in this area? Did any survive?” Ling Chi’s fury erupted, his voice resounding like thunder.

The bandit quaked in fear. “Spare us, my lord! There were over forty of us—half refused to rob and stayed in the mountains farming and hunting. We’ve been at this for over a year, following our leader. Usually, we leave no witnesses among the merchants and travelers we rob—who knows how many we’ve killed!”

Ling Chi’s heart chilled. What a ruthless band of deserters.

He asked no more. With a single stroke, heads fell, and a dozen wisps of spiritual energy flowed into him.

After dealing with the bodies, Ling Chi mounted up and rode on, intending to find those who had chosen to farm instead. If they could maintain a baseline of decency, perhaps they were not irredeemable.

He followed the mountain path deeper into the wilderness, the way becoming so rough that he had to dismount and continue on foot. He moved through the trees as if on level ground.

Crossing a mountain pass, he spotted several wooden cabins on a distant hillside. The huts were crude, and though it was not yet noon, people crowded in front and behind the cabins. Faint cries of battle could be heard.

A snake as thick as a man’s thigh was battling the deserters. Its skin was tough as armor, impervious to swords and spears; sparks flew where weapons struck, but it seemed unharmed.

The leader of the group, a burly man, wielded a three-pronged fork with great skill, the others attacking with a mishmash of weapons, relying on their killing formation to attempt surprise attacks.

Suddenly, the snake’s tail loomed large before the burly man’s eyes; he tried to block with his fork but was sent flying. The situation was spiraling out of control—women ran, children wailed, and chaos reigned.

“Everyone, get out of the way!” came a voice like thunder on a clear day, rolling over the chaos and instantly restoring order.