Chapter 2709: The Capital (Part 65)

The arrow flew level with the ground, maintaining its forward momentum.

The bowstring was drawn back to his ear, the fletching resting at the corner of his mouth—"mouth holding the feather flower, ear listening to the string."

His eyes fixed straight ahead, aiming along the arrowhead.

Traditional bows had no sights; archers used the arrowhead or a point on the bow limb as their reference for aim.

Liu Chang narrowed his eyes slightly. In his vision, the arrowhead stood sharp and solid while the target blurred behind it. Drawing on years of practice and instinct, he sensed the aim point was too high. He adjusted his mental projection of the impact point, shifting his aim downward.

Without a thumb ring, the friction between string and fingers at the moment of release would worsen string vibration, disturbing the arrow's flight and lowering accuracy.

The bone thumb ring was smooth, creating little friction and minimal disturbance. The release came crisp and clean, increasing accuracy.

Liu Chang's thumb and index finger relaxed naturally, and the bowstring slipped from the thumb ring.

After the release, his drawing hand swung backward with the momentum, following through.

At the twang of the bowstring, the arrow slipped away like a swimming fish.

It was a fine arrow with eagle fletching. The shaft spun as it flew, its posture stable.

The arrow left the string. In his heart, he expected a hit; where it struck was up to fate.

The enemy archer swayed. An arrow shaft protruded from his throat.

Struck by the arrow, the enemy's hands lost their strength. His bow and arrow slipped from his control. His own shot flew wild, arcing diagonally into the sky—not high, falling powerlessly to earth.

The archer collapsed, legs kicking, hands clawing at the dirt in a final death struggle.

One step ahead of the enemy. A hair's breadth difference between life and death.

Seeing his companion fall, the second archer immediately spun and loosed an arrow in return.

Shaken by his companion's fate, the enemy's shot flew slightly off.

The arrow grazed past Liu Chang's face, its whistle passing his ear. Liu Chang's heart remained still as an ancient well, unmoved by ripples.

Liu Chang drew three arrows from his quiver, holding them in his bow hand.

Holding arrows in the bow hand and using the "Jade Maiden Shuttling" technique was a method for rapid fire.

Pushing from the back, drawing the bow, shooting in swift succession.

Sharp arrow energy sang through the air, the horn bow humming, the wind sobbing as arrow lights became streaks of starlight.

The first arrow struck the leg. The enemy dropped his bow and dragged his wounded leg as he tried to flee.

The second arrow struck his back. The arrowhead entered from behind, piercing through to his chest. The enemy fell.

The third arrow struck his back again. The two arrows clustered close together, their shafts nearly touching. The enemy twitched once, and in a moment, fell silent.

Old Feng, gripping a short gun, advanced with the Mandarin Duck Formation. An enemy suddenly attacked from the flank.

Old Feng let him close to within two meters, braced the gun with both hands, and dropped him with a single shot.

The muzzle flash blazed like a torch, and the report boomed heavy as a drum, stealing the bandits' courage whole.

Roving bandits were nothing but rabble, seeking victory in a single decisive rush. Once the battle turned against them and morale wavered, they had no stomach for prolonged fighting and collapsed immediately.

As if a starting gun had fired, the remaining men's resolve shattered. Losing all will to fight, they shouted and scattered in every direction.

Seeing the enemies flee, a commotion stirred within the Mandarin Duck Formation.

Zhao Liangjian shouted: "Do not pursue fleeing bandits! Do not break formation! Hold the line and let them run for their lives."

Martial Yama saw that the situation was hopeless. He turned to flee, but his knee flared with pain—an arrow had found its mark. With a heavy thud, he dropped to his knees.

Looking back, he saw a sturdy man standing sideways in the distance, bow raised and aimed at him.

Martial Yama gritted his teeth and forced himself up. The arrow shaft in his knee swayed, causing the embedded arrowhead to shift. His knee buckled under him, and he fell to his knees a second time.

Pain lanced through his shoulder—another arrow had struck home.

Martial Yama dropped his saber. With his bare hands, he snapped the shafts of the arrows in both wounds, then limped forward with agonizing effort. After staggering some distance, his breathing grew ragged. His lungs burned. His wounded leg felt ready to snap beneath him, and the world blurred before his eyes. Wind rushed behind his head. A heavy blow landed, and consciousness fled.

When Martial Yama awoke, he was bound, his lungs still burning with pain.

He looked toward the main road. The corpses were gone—surely dragged into the woods to be hidden. Turning his head, he saw a guard beside him tilting a waterskin, clear water flowing out.

A striking woman bent before him, lathering soap, scooping handfuls of clear water to wash the blood from her hands and face.

Martial Yama's throat worked. He swallowed with difficulty, trying to moisten his cracked throat.

Hearing the sound, the woman turned to look at him. "Pity," she said. "You woke too late. We don't need you to talk anymore; your companions have already confessed everything."

Martial Yama glimpsed the two men standing behind the woman, clearly the ones in charge. He asked, "What about my brothers in the woods? Why didn't they charge out?"

The woman accepted a towel from Old Feng, wiped her hands, and smiled. "That group has already been killed. By me."

Martial Yama started. He studied the woman and asked, "May I know your name?"

"I am Liao Sanniang," she said.

Martial Yama nodded stiffly. "Good. At least I'll know whose hands killed me. I can be a ghost with understanding."

Liao Sanniang wore a bright smile. "Won't you beg for mercy? Perhaps I'll spare your life."

Martial Yama spat on the ground. "The world has fallen into decline—violent and wicked. It's hard for anyone to find peace. This life has been worthless. Couldn't become an official, and even as a bandit, couldn't become a great and fearsome rebel. Eating grass roots and mud to survive—living has grown tiresome. I've killed enough in this life. It was already worth it. Why grovel and beg? Besides..."

He paused, glancing at Liao Sanniang. "You'll never spare me anyway."

Liao Sanniang raised an eyebrow. "How do you figure?"

Martial Yama sneered. "Heh. Your eyes hold ruthlessness, and the corners of your mouth carry killing lines. You and I are alike—both vicious tigers, always hungry for blood. This talk of mercy is just a cat toying with a mouse. I ask only one thing before I die: use my own sword to take my head."

Liao Sanniang held his gaze. The smile lines at the corners of her mouth slowly faded, her expression turning cold. After a long moment, she spoke. "A blood debt lies between us now. Letting you go would only make this route unsafe in the future—nothing but trouble. To uproot evil, one must pull out the root. I'll grant your wish." She turned. "Brother Liu, please see him off."

Liu Chang nodded, picked up Martial Yama's long saber from the ground, and with a guard's help, dragged him into the woods.

Some distance from the main road, Liu Chang spotted a huge basin-shaped pit ahead—suitable for disposing of corpses. He and the guard hauled Martial Yama to the pit's edge and pressed him down to kneel.

Kneeling at the rim, Martial Yama raised his head and said to Liu Chang, "In a fair saber duel on foot, I would have beaten you. Pity my skills never got the chance. I should have been the one to step forward and fight."

Liu Chang replied, "I can draw a heavy hard bow; my waist and back are strong. You wouldn't necessarily best me in a saber fight either. But it wouldn't have mattered who stepped forward—the result would have been the same. Our martial arts, our formation, our equipment—all surpass yours. Even with twenty more men, you'd be no match for us."

Martial Yama looked at him, snorted coldly, and said, "The Mandarin Duck Formation you use was created by Guardian Qi. It's a military formation, most effective against scattered soldiers. I'm a deserter. Losing to the Mandarin Duck Formation is like being executed by military law. I die without injustice."

Liu Chang glanced around. Suddenly, at the bottom of the great pit, he caught sight of two half-rotted skeletons. They lay covered in grass and mud, their empty eye sockets dark and terrible.

Liu Chang froze at the sight.

Noticing his strange expression, Martial Yama followed his gaze. When he saw the two skeletons, he stiffened—then burst into wild laughter.

Liu Chang looked at him oddly. "What are you laughing at?"

Martial Yama said, "Those two skeletons are the daughters of a retired official. We robbed their family some time ago. After we raped and had our fill of the two girls, we killed them. Great fun, it was. Afterward, we cut off their heads and threw them here. I'd long forgotten. Didn't expect to meet them again at death's door. An ill-fated connection."

Liu Chang's brow furrowed. "The dead haven't gone far; retribution never fails. Heaven claims its debts. How fitting to use your head as a sacrifice to the wronged souls."

Martial Yama glared at him with fierce eyes. "In eighteen years, I'll be reborn a bandit again—to rob and kill your kind once more."

Liu Chang cracked a mocking grin. "Good. When that time comes, I'll kill you again."

With that, Liu Chang lifted the long saber in his hand, inspected the blade, and flicked it with his middle finger. A clear, melodious ring echoed out.

Martial Yama turned his face aside. "I sharpened that blade all day yesterday. It's very sharp."

Liu Chang said, "I'll send you off well."

Martial Yama chuckled. "No need. Chop a few extra times. Let me savor the taste of death in full."

Liu Chang shook his head. "I take no pleasure in torturing others. My hand is steady. I guarantee it will be quick."

Martial Yama gave a low laugh. "Fine, then. Much obliged."

On Martial Yama's mud-caked neck, a pale crease of flesh stood out like a marker line, blindingly white—the beheading line.

Liu Chang pressed his left thumb against Martial Yama's neck, making the line clear. His fingertips felt the distinct joints of the spine.

Sure enough, as Martial Yama had claimed, once the condemned man's neck was touched this way, it stiffened immediately, stretching straight to receive the blade.

The long saber swept down. The angle of the edge matched the arc of the swing. The blade sang through the air. The cutting line perfectly aligned with the beheading line.

The head fell. The cross-section of the neck was smooth and flat. A jet of fresh blood spurted from the severed cavity. The head tumbled down the slope of the pit's edge, rolling to the bottom.

The head rolled on, smeared with crushed leaves and mud. Faintly, the mouth seemed to move twice, as if saying: "Good blade."

Martial Yama's head came to rest at the pit's bottom, colliding with the two skeletons. The three skulls gathered into a triangle.

Looking down at them, Liu Chang chanted silently: Not human, not ghost; separation and chaos bring only suffering; life and death are impermanent. May this chaotic world end. May you all find protection. May you all be people of peace in your next lives.

Liu Chang kicked the headless corpse into the pit. Just as he raised the saber to leave, a wisp of yin wind curled past his feet, and a chill ran through him.

Liu Chang stopped. After a moment's thought, he turned back to the pit's edge, thrust the long saber into the earth with a solid sound, and said, "Your blade. Returned to you."

Then he left the woods.

Little Bazi gazed toward the trees. "Those corpses..."

Old Feng cut in, "Every day in the Capital, more street corpses and starved bodies get hauled to Zuojiazhuang by cart than lie here. These roving bandits have no village registration, no one to look for them, no one to care. If someone's kind enough to collect their remains, that's their fortune. Otherwise, heaven and earth will take them back."

After a brief pause, Old Feng added, "Not a single man lost. Good fortune."

"What did the captives confess?" Sanniang asked casually.

"There's one piece of news," Old Feng said, his eyes flashing. "I'll explain in detail at the estate. Should we bring them along for further questioning?"

"No need," Liao Sanniang said. "These small fry won't know anything important. Behead them all."

Old Feng turned back toward the woods.

Seeing the hint of fear in Little Bazi's eyes as he looked at her, Liao Sanniang asked, "What? Do you blame me for being cruel?"

Little Bazi shook his head. "If a person isn't ruthless, it's hard to survive. Living is difficult enough as it is."

Liao Sanniang fished out a copper coin. With a flick of her thumb, she sent it spinning far through the air. "Guess which side lands up," she asked. "Words or back?"

(End of Chapter)