C15 It Was Not as Simple as an Expert

The seasoned bandit leader, despite his surprise, did not lose sight of his predicament. He swiftly drew his knife across his jaw in an attempt to block the incoming sword thrust.

With no one to control the sword now, he was confident that it wouldn't take much effort to stop it.

Moreover, his opponent was disarmed. Wasn't this like a lamb ready for the slaughter?

As he drew nearer and caught sight of Shen Feixue's striking face, a daring idea formed in his mind.

All he needed was a signal, a cue to launch his counterattack.

The clash between sword and blade would be that signal.

"When the moment arrives, capturing a handsome, unarmed man will be effortless. Then, I'll be free to do as I please, hehehe!" he thought, chuckling so hard that drool nearly escaped the corners of his mouth.

But the anticipated sound never came.

Instead, a feeble force hit his back, quickly followed by a sharp pain in his leg.

"A ruse!" The bandit leader's heart skipped a beat, but his extensive combat experience kept him from looking back. He lunged forward, covering a distance of about three meters, then turned around.

What he saw left him bewildered.

The handsome man, Shen Feixue, hadn't yet withdrawn his green sword.

Hadn't the sword been released from his grip?

How had it returned to his hand?

And how had he managed to move behind him?

The bandit leader's mind reeled with questions, each one adding to his confusion.

Shen Feixue remained uninterested in providing explanations, her voice as serene as ever, "As I suspected, he's wearing armor."

The bandit leader had sensed something amiss when he tried to deliver a downward slash at his own abdomen. The sword he had let go of targeted the unprotected throat, prompting the bandit leader to use his knife defensively. This allowed him to narrowly evade the blade, but it was all a feint.

With his millennia-long mastery of the Sword Path, the sword was far more than a mere weapon in his hands. Even after it had left his grasp, he was acutely aware of its trajectory.

As the bandit leader sheathed his blade, his opponent had already subtly grasped his own sword and rolled to a position behind him. The thrust was meant for the bandit leader's back, but the resistance at the sword's tip signaled armor. Swiftly, he redirected the blade toward the leg.

"What good does knowing do you?" The bandit leader's smile vanished. The cut on his leg was minor, yet he no longer underestimated the man before him.

The battlefield shifts in the blink of an eye. He had foolishly awaited a signal, even contemplating an assault on this man, clearly underestimating him.

He recognized that the man's swordsmanship was exceptional.

Moreover, this youthful figure had discerned his armored protection in mere moments. Countless adversaries had perished under his blade before realizing this fact, yet a young man had pierced the truth instantly.

His combat experience was extensive!

A young man, possessing remarkable sword skills and a level of combat wisdom that belied his age, was indeed an anomaly.

All these revelations compelled the bandit leader to abandon his scorn for Shen Feixue.

Blade at the ready, he assumed his stance, burying a daring thought deep within. He knew well to weigh the gravity of danger against fleeting pleasure.

But before he could act, Shen Feixue spoke again, stirring a subtle shift within him. His resolve began to falter.

"Do you still feel the wound on your leg?" inquired Shen Feixue.

The casual remark sent a shiver down the bandit leader's spine. Aside from the recent injury, another wound from ten years past, incurred before his time in the Yellow Bamboo Forest, marred his leg—a secret not even his closest followers might know.

For a decade, he had masked the injury, sometimes convincing himself it had healed, except in certain moments.

Yet now was not one of those moments.

And still, the man before him had perceived it with a mere glance.

Who was this enigmatic figure?

Shen Feixue allowed no time for contemplation. The bandit leader's extensive battle experience was no match for his own.

From the slightly awkward lunge moments before, he had discerned the old wound on the bandit leader's leg. Despite the bandit leader's best efforts to hide it, he had detected it with just a glance.

Moreover, the previous sword strike confirmed there was no protective gear on the bandit leader's legs, presenting him with an opportunity to exploit.

With a flick of his sword, he advanced aggressively.

Beauty often belies danger, a lesson the bandit leader was learning firsthand.

Shen Feixue's emerald blade struck like a venomous serpent, attacking from every conceivable angle.

Initially, the bandit leader managed to spot openings for counterattacks, but Shen Feixue's swordplay was elusive, vanishing only to reappear from baffling angles, each thrust targeting the vulnerable throat. He was forced to parry, relying on his agility to avoid being pierced.

It was a deliberate feint by his adversary!

The realization sent chills down the bandit leader's spine, and he abandoned any thought of counterattacking. Now, he was left to rely solely on his footwork and the blade in his hand for a desperate defense.

His plan was to hold out until the arrival of his five trained Demonic Beasts. Though they were of the lowest tier, they could still provide a distraction.

Regrettably, each time he attempted to move, Shen Feixue's sword was already poised to strike where he intended to step.

This pattern repeated, forcing him to constantly adjust his movements on the fly. His steps grew increasingly erratic until a searing pain shot through his thigh.

"Can you pinpoint the exact location of my old wounds?" The bandit leader was astounded. His left thigh, the site of his past injury, would throb painfully on rainy days.

This sword thrust seemed to herald the onset of stormy weather.

His question went unanswered. The fresh wound in his thigh, compounded by the old injury, brought an excruciating pain that robbed him of any remaining fight.

Shen Feixue's sword continued its relentless dance, the bandit leader now devoid of any capacity to resist. The inevitable conclusion drew near, and with a final, swift stroke, the sword whispered across the bandit leader's neck, signaling the end of the conflict.

As the bandit leader's body stiffly collapsed, Shen Feixue exhaled deeply. He had pushed himself to the brink; his physical limitations were a constant barrier to his true potential. Had he not spotted the old wounds on his adversary's legs, the outcome might not have been so favorable.

Breathing heavily, Shen Feixue allowed himself a brief respite, seated on the ground while remaining vigilant to the sounds from outside. The bandit leader was down, but five Demonic Beasts still demanded his attention.

After a moment's rest, Shen Feixue rifled through the bandit leader's belongings, finding nothing of value except for a jade card. Illuminated by the room's dim light, the card's peculiar symbols, composed of four shifting colors, seemed to dance with each change of perspective.

The sight of the jade card caused Shen Feixue's brow to furrow. He pondered briefly before tucking the card into his robes, then he set about the grim task of removing the bandit leader's head as a trophy.

Inside, the skirmish had seemed almost effortless, but outside, within the stronghold, the battle was far from over. The Wandering Tiger, once a group of over thirty, was now reduced to eight or nine battered survivors, their weapons damaged or broken amidst a gruesome tableau of fallen comrades and the stench of blood.

Not far off, the lifeless forms of the five Demonic Beasts lay sprawled on the ground, silent and still.

"These creatures are a serious challenge," Zhang Ershan remarked, spitting out a mouthful of blood and gasping for air.

"They dragged back all the bandits who tried to flee!" Lee Daniu observed, surveying the foreign bodies, many of which had been retrieved by the beasts.

"So, do we press on?"

"After all we've been through, all the brothers we've lost, and with only the bandit leader left, are you suggesting we give up now?" Lee Daniu was hardly in better shape, but their small band had been fortunate. Of the nine still standing, five were from their own ranks.

Clearly, it was a challenge for them to consider giving up at that moment.

Without a moment's hesitation, the nine of them inhaled deeply and made their way toward the only room in the village with a light on. They had come too far to turn back now, and their resolve was not just about the reward or the accolades; it was about seeing things through.

From the initial group of over fifty, they were now down to nine. They had lost too many brothers along the way. For Lee Daniu, the guilt of failing to protect his benefactor's orphan weighed heavily on him. He knew he would never have another opportunity to repay Old Master Shen's kindness.

The recent clash with the Demonic Beast, as much as he didn't want to admit it, forced him to accept that Shen Feixue had likely perished in the earlier chaos. If even the fleeing bandits had fallen to the beasts, what chance did Shen Feixue have?

The village lay in eerie silence, the pervasive scent of blood silencing the usual chorus of insects. The only sound was the footsteps of the nine men. The walk to the lit house wasn't far, but their pace slowed with each step. By the time they reached the door, all that remained was a deep sense of unease.

Cui Yongran's hand reached out shakily to push the door open, but halfway there, his hand trembled violently, and he couldn't bring himself to move it any further. In a flash, he withdrew his hand and turned to face his companions, his voice a hushed whisper, "Are you sure about this? There might still be time to escape."

He made a valid point. The bandit leader was on the verge of reaching the Perception Stage, a fact they were all well aware of. Considering their injuries, and even in the best of health, the nine of them were hardly a match for the bandit leader.

Their initial plan had been to poison the bandit underlings and then, with their numbers, overwhelm the leader before he could signal for help. Now, with the five beasts dead but the bandit leader still unscathed, they had to wonder if they stood a chance.

"What if we..."

"But then..."

Creak~

The sound of the door latch turning was faint, yet in the stillness, it resounded with a clarity that sent shivers down their spines.

A faint creak silenced everyone, their eyes gradually lifting upward.

The old wooden door, showing signs of wear, now sported a finger-sized gap that continued to widen.

Was the door opening?

The eight of them turned their eyes to Cui Yongran at the head of the line, their looks conveying a clear message: How could you open the door when we're not ready?

But no matter what they did, they couldn't stop the door from continuing to swing open.

With the creaking sound, the door finally opened wide enough for a person to pass through, then halted. A foot emerged, followed by a leg, and then half a torso...

The hands of the nine, clutching their weapons, were sticky—whether from blood or sweat, they couldn't tell.

"Damn it, let's go all in!" one of them blurted out, unable to withstand the pressure of the situation any longer.

"Go all in for what?" The head of the half-emerged figure finally came into view.