Chapter Twelve: Consider It an Act of Kindness and Virtue

“Heavens, how could I, Old Qian, be so unlucky?”

The Black Scarf Bandits were infamous, not just for robbery, but for their reputation of burning, killing, and plundering without scruple. When it was revealed that they were surrounded by the Black Scarf Bandits, the faces of the escorts from the Long Wind Escort Agency turned grim, and the portly Qian inside the carriage was so terrified that his body shook as if caught in a violent chill.

“Du Hai, Cheng Wu, protect Master Qian. I’ll go face Feng Kui myself.”

The middle-aged man was the founder of the Long Wind Escort Agency. The somewhat attractive woman was his wife—in truth, the agency was a family business. No matter how afraid he might be, he could never abandon his employer and wife to their fate. So, while instructing the younger escorts, he braced himself, spurred his horse, and raised his blade to meet the bandits.

“Friends of the Black Scarf Bandits, the green hills will remain, and the rivers will keep flowing. We all make our living on the road—could you perhaps show Mr. Xu a little mercy and let us—”

“Bah! Who do you think you are? Brothers, kill them!”

Before Xu could finish, the leopard-headed, round-eyed Feng Kui spat at him and swung his heavy saber viciously toward Xu’s head.

At the same time, the rest of the Black Scarf Bandits, following their orders, charged the carriage with wild cries, engaging the beautiful woman and the others in close combat in the blink of an eye.

The clash of steel rang incessantly. Feng Kui’s strength made his strikes heavy, but the middle-aged Xu was no slouch either, parrying the saber and maneuvering his horse to engage in a fierce duel. Though slightly disadvantaged, he was not in immediate danger. The same could not be said for his wife and the carriage.

Outnumbered, the woman was quickly overwhelmed by three foes. Du Hai, Cheng Wu, and the rest struggled desperately to defend themselves. Surrounded, the woman and the escorts left the carriage completely unprotected.

With a crash, several bandits struck the carriage in unison. It collapsed instantly, and the now thoroughly soiled Qian tumbled to the ground with the wreckage, pleading in a trembling voice, “Please, don’t kill me! I’ll give you all my money.”

As he spoke, he reached into his coat and shakily raised a stack of banknotes above his head, the pain of parting with them etched on his face.

“Banknotes? Damn you, fat fool—trying to trick us? You must have a death wish!”

Although the Black Scarf Bandits were bold, none dared risk entering city banks to cash notes in these troubled times. A thin, dark man among them eyed the banknotes with a sneer, raising his wicked blade as if to strike.

The others remained silent, clearly showing that this unimposing man was a minor leader, akin to Feng Kui, the second-in-command.

“Wait! I didn’t know you gentlemen didn’t want banknotes! These gold leaves—these are my only other valuables. Please, sirs, spare my life…”

At this, Qian hastily withdrew the banknotes, pulled a small pouch from his coat containing a few gold leaves, and began kowtowing frantically.

Suddenly, one of the three bandits fighting the woman let out a blood-curdling scream—her sword had pierced his heart. The woman had seized the moment when her foe, for reasons unknown, twisted his neck in agony mid-battle, giving her the perfect opening. Without hesitation, she withdrew her sword and turned on the remaining two.

The bandit collapsed in a heap, blood spurting from his heart, dead beyond doubt. No one noticed the tiny mosquito feasting happily on the artery of his neck.

Moments before the attack on the carriage, Xiao Wenzi had spent thirty ordinary system coins to exchange for a drop of demon spirit dew, replenishing his inner power to its peak. Though it was a waste given his current level, the chaos of battle left no room for thrift—thirty coins were a small price for survival and the chance to profit from the disorder.

Both the bandits and the escorts were skilled in the world of martial arts, but compared to Xiao Wenzi, now at the mid-stage of the first tier of demon qi cultivation, they were merely mortals.

Thus, unleashing his demon power, Xiao Wenzi slipped unnoticed to the bandit’s neck, sank his fangs into the vein, and drank deeply. The sudden, excruciating itch and pain made the bandit instinctively jerk his head, trying to see what strange thing had attacked him. But to lose focus in the midst of battle was fatal—his end was inevitable.

With his advancement, Xiao Wenzi’s blood-drinking speed had increased significantly. While the black-skinned man and others, abandoning Qian in rage, moved to besiege the woman, Xiao Wenzi had already absorbed a wealth of blood, exchanging it for several system coins.

“Well, let’s call it a good deed after all.”

As he drank, Xiao Wenzi kept his infrared senses spread wide, monitoring the chaos. Seeing the woman beset once more by the bandits and in mortal peril, compassion stirred within him. With a sigh, he ceased his feeding, beat his wings, and flew straight for Feng Kui, the second-in-command of the Black Scarf Bandits.

To capture the king is to win the war—if he could kill this formidable, bearded leader, the bandits’ formation would collapse. At the very least, Xu would be able to rescue his wife, and she would be out of danger.

“My dear Ping! Damn these bandits!”

Seeing his wife steadily losing ground—and certain she would have been lost already had the bandits not wanted to take her alive—Xu roared in anger, desperate to break through and help, but was blocked at every turn by Feng Kui’s taunting blade.

“Refuse a toast and you’ll get a funeral instead! Soon enough I’ll let you see what happens to those who cross us. That little lady of yours looks quite the treat…”

Though Xu lacked Feng Kui’s strength, his swordplay was subtle and intricate, making him a difficult opponent. Feng Kui, meanwhile, swung his saber and hurled filthy taunts in an effort to unbalance his foe.

Sure enough, at his wife’s humiliation, Xu’s eyes blazed with fury. His moves grew reckless, and he narrowly avoided injury several times.

The tide of battle was clear: the Long Wind Escort Agency was doomed.

But as Feng Kui laughed triumphantly, a sudden, agonizing itch and pain tore through his neck. Thinking himself struck by a hidden weapon, his face contorted in panic as he raised his saber to block Xu’s attack, while the other hand clawed desperately at his neck.

Just then, a blur flashed before his eyes—a mosquito-like insect landed on his eyelid, and once again the searing pain struck.

“What the hell is this thing?” Feng Kui roared, slapping frantically at his face. There was a sharp smack—a dizzying blow to himself, whether or not he hit his attacker.

At that instant, a cold slice at his neck—Xu’s blade flashed, and Feng Kui’s head flew from his shoulders.

No one quite understood what spell had taken hold of Feng Kui, but Xu was a seasoned veteran—he would not miss such an opportunity to strike down his foe.

A loud buzz filled the air.

With their second-in-command slain, the Black Scarf Bandits fell into chaos. Exhausted and bleeding from numerous cuts, the woman was finally out of danger, and Xu immediately spurred his horse to her aid.

Neither of them noticed the small mosquito still drinking greedily from the wrist of Feng Kui’s headless corpse.