"Private hoarding of military-grade artillery, Big Boss—don't you fear the thousand-blade punishment?" The lead guard's voice rumbled, his hand resting on the hilt of his saber. A veteran of countless border skirmishes, he recognized the deadly weight of the "tiger crouch" cannon before them. This wasn't just a bandit raid; it was a trap.
The burly bandit leader—Mouth of the Yellow Spring, they called him—snorted. "Punishment? The Heavenly Dao Palace's soothsayers prophesied an 'heretic slayer of Heaven-Menders' lurking nearby. These woods are sealed; no one gets in or out. Even scholars with 'imperial favor' can't save you now."
Zhao Xunan's brow flickered. Heaven-Menders… Three days prior, as he'd breached the first level of Qi Refinement, a patrol of these "divine enforcers" had crossed his path. Now, with his breakthrough to the second level, they'd circled like vultures.
"Don't mistake me for a scholar," Zhao Xunan said, his tone deceptively calm. "I've killed men for less than your insolence."
Mouth of the Yellow Spring's grin widened. "Big words for a bookworm. Light the fuse, boys. Let's see how long your 'talent' lasts."
A bandit struck a flint, and the cannon's fuse hissed to life. Panic rippled through the convoy—scholars, maids, and guards alike huddled together, their faces pale.
But Zhao Xunan moved like a shadow.
Autumn Waters flashed, slicing the burning fuse mid-air. The hiss cut off abruptly, leaving only the bandits' enraged shouts.
"Kill him!" Mouth of the Yellow Spring roared.
Chaos erupted. Bandits lunged with clubs, knives, and even a rusted halberd. Zhao Xunan met them head-on, his sword a whirlwind of steel. One bandit's club shattered against his blade; another's knife skidded off his armor. With a sweep of his arm, he disarmed a third and drove his sword through the man's throat.
"Watch out for the big one!" a guard yelled.
Mouth of the Yellow Spring, wielding a massive battleaxe, charged like a charging ox. Zhao Xunan sidestepped the axe's arc, his foot slamming into the bandit's knee. With a twist, he drove Autumn Waters upward, splitting the man's skull like overripe fruit.
Blood sprayed. The remaining bandits faltered, but Mouth of the Yellow Spring's dying roar galvanized them. "For the Heavenly Dao—"
Thud.
Zhao Xunan's sword pinned the man's head to the ground. "The Heavenly Dao?" he spat, wiping his blade. "You're just butchers with a badge."
The convoy regrouped, the surviving guards trembling but alive. The lead guard clasped Zhao Xunan's arm. "Master Zhao—you've saved us all. But we can't linger. Those Heaven-Menders won't stop until they've hunted every soul in these woods."
They pressed on, reaching a fortified county town by dusk. The guards, too weary to celebrate, collapsed into the post station, while Zhao Xunan slipped out under cover of night.
He'd left a wooden token laced with his aura near the battle site. Now, as he walked the forest's edge, his fingers brushed the token—gone.
They're coming.
Zhao Xunan smiled grimly. Good.
The Heaven-Menders' camp lay three li from the county, their black-robed figures silhouetted against the moon. Seven figures—six in Daoist robes, one in cold-forged scale armor—gathered around a smoldering campfire.
"Lost his trail," the non-combatant (a "Fate-Reader") muttered, his voice tight. "But the aura's fresh. He's close."
The armored leader—Swallow Thief, they called him—grinned, his teeth glinting like daggers. "Let him come. Seven of us, one scholar. Even a Qi Refinement brat won't survive this."
The Fate-Reader frowned. "Something feels… off. The Heavenly Dao's soothsayers warned of 'unseen forces.'"
"Bah!" Swallow Thief scoffed. "Soothsayers are cowards. We're Heaven's will made flesh. No mere scholar can—"
A crack split the night.
Swallow Thief's head snapped toward the sound. A figure emerged from the trees, his blade gleaming under the moon.
"Who dares—"
Autumn Waters flashed.
Swallow Thief's battleaxe met it mid-swing, but the steel shattered. The scholar's blade pierced his ribs, and with a twist, Zhao Xunan wrenched it free.
Blood gushed. Swallow Thief staggered, his eyes wide. "You—you're not a scholar. You're a warrior."
"Correct," Zhao Xunan said, sheathing his sword. "And you're dead."
The remaining Heaven-Menders lunged. The Fate-Reader hurled a lightning talisman; the Scale-Clad Warrior swung a copper staff. But Zhao Xunan moved like a specter, his blade cutting through talismans and flesh alike.
One by one, they fell.
The last to fall was the Fate-Reader, his body crumpling as Zhao Xunan's sword pierced his heart. "Why…" he gasped. "Why kill us? We're… we're just following orders."
"Orders?" Zhao Xunan spat, wiping his blade. "You butchered innocents. You called yourselves 'Heaven's will'—but Heaven doesn't bleed."
The Fate-Reader's eyes flickered. "You… you're not just a warrior. You're…"
"Enough." Zhao Xunan turned, his cape billowing in the wind. "Tell your 'Heavenly Dao' I'm coming. And next time, bring more than seven cowards."
As he vanished into the trees, the surviving Heaven-Menders stared at their fallen brethren, their faith crumbling like ash.
Somewhere, a cannon boomed.
And in the distance, a scholar's laughter echoed—sharp, triumphant, and very, very human.