Thunder crashed overhead as torrential rain began hammering the countryside with sudden violence.
"Brothers, it's pouring! We need to run faster!" Ning Caichen shouted, breaking into a desperate sprint toward the weathered thatched shelter.
All four men reached the humble structure within moments. Ning Caichen immediately began shaking his sleeves, preparing to wring out what he expected to be soaked fabric.
"Wait... why aren't my clothes wet?" he asked with obvious confusion, patting his completely dry robes.
Fahai and Shanks exchanged amused glances. Despite traveling with them for several days, the scholar still forgot about their supernatural conveniences.
"Oh right! The electric... what did you call it again, Brother Gustave?" Ning Caichen slapped his forehead with sudden realization.
"Electromagnetic shield," Gustave supplied patiently.
"Yes, electromagnetic shield! I keep forgetting we don't need to hide from rain anymore."
"Don't worry about it, Brother Ning," Gustave replied with gentle laughter. "You'll get used to traveling with us eventually."
Their conversation was interrupted by distant shouts and the clash of steel. Several burly men with vicious faces came running toward the hut, their expressions twisted with terror despite their intimidating appearance.
Behind them charged a square-faced swordsman with cold, predatory eyes, his blade gleaming as he pursued his quarry with inhuman speed. He moved like he was flying across the ground, closing the distance with supernatural swiftness.
"Xiahou, we only took a small thing from you!" one of the fleeing men called out desperately, finally turning to face his pursuer with a raised knife. "Why are you pushing us so hard?"
"Why does a dead man waste time talking?" Xiahou replied with icy contempt.
"Brothers, we can't outrun him anyway," the spokesman continued, rallying his companions. "Let's fight this Xiahou bastard! There are five of us against one—what's there to fear?"
"Kill him!"
The bandits rushed forward with impressive coordination, their weapons raised and their formation suggesting real combat experience. Unfortunately for them, they'd chosen the wrong opponent.
"Haha, perfect timing!" Xiahou laughed with genuine pleasure, raising his sword as he charged to meet them.
The battle lasted mere seconds. In a blur of steel and spurting blood, all five men lost their heads simultaneously. Crimson spray arced directly toward the watching group.
Gustave casually waved his hand, deflecting the gore with his electromagnetic field, but Ning Caichen still dove behind him with terrified trembling.
"Master Fahai, why didn't you stop that slaughter?" Gustave asked with obvious amusement.
"Those men reeked of blood, evil energy, and resentment," Fahai replied calmly. "Clearly they were criminals who preyed on innocent people. That Xiahou eliminated threats to public safety—why would I interfere?"
"Well said, monk!" Xiahou called out as he cleaned his blade and approached their shelter. "Those scum were bandits who terrorized this region for months. They stole from me, so I removed them from the world as a public service!"
He sheathed his weapon and offered a formal salute. "My name is Xiahou. I'm a wandering swordsman."
"Fahai," the monk replied with a respectful nod.
"Gustave," came the chef's casual introduction.
"Shanks," the red-haired pirate added simply.
Only Ning Caichen remained hidden behind Gustave, too frightened to speak.
"Brother Shanks, judging by your name and appearance, you're not from around here," Xiahou observed shrewdly.
Shanks' distinctive red hair and foreign features made him impossible to mistake for a local.
"I'm from the Western Regions," Shanks replied, following the cover story Gustave had prepared.
"The Western Regions? That's incredibly far away." Xiahou's eyes sharpened with professional interest as he spotted the sword at Shanks' hip. "I see you're also a swordsman."
"That's right. Same as you."
"Then perhaps you'd honor me with a sparring match?"
Gustave suddenly remembered something about this character—Xiahou had been chasing the legendary Yan Chixia across the country, challenging him repeatedly despite suffering constant defeats. His determination was absolutely unshakeable.
"I'd be delighted," Shanks accepted with genuine enthusiasm.
While a hundred Xiahou swordsmen combined couldn't match Shanks' overall power, the local warrior's technique looked genuinely sophisticated. A true master was always worth testing against.
"Excellent!" Xiahou's grin turned predatory. "Shall we?"
"After you."
Both men moved to an open area beside the hut, rain hammering down around them as they faced off. The downpour created an atmosphere of solemn intensity, as if nature itself was preparing for their contest.
Without warning, Xiahou exploded into motion. His sword thrust straight at Shanks with tremendous force, the blade's passage actually parting the curtain of falling rain. As his speed increased, a visible cone of displaced water formed around the weapon's tip.
Shanks remained perfectly calm, studying his opponent's technique for weaknesses rather than panicking under the assault's ferocity.
Just before Xiahou's blade would have pierced his chest, Shanks finally moved. A gentle upward parry deflected the thrust, sending Xiahou stumbling past from his own momentum.
But the local swordsman's experience showed immediately. He planted his foot, twisted his body like a corkscrew, and launched a spinning follow-up attack that resembled a human drill.
Shanks raised Griffin to block, but Xiahou used the contact to accelerate his rotation, boring toward his opponent with mechanical precision.
Since this was purely a swordsmanship contest, Shanks avoided using Haki or other supernatural abilities. Against Xiahou's "Lightning Poison Dragon Drill," he could only give ground while looking for openings.
As the spinning attack finally slowed, Shanks applied force in the opposite direction, bringing his opponent to an abrupt halt.
Defense had never been Shanks' preferred style. The moment Xiahou stopped moving, a lightning-fast thrust targeted the man's exposed face.
Xiahou barely managed to dodge, but not completely—Shanks' blade severed a lock of hair that drifted slowly to the muddy ground.
From that moment, the battle's momentum shifted completely. Shanks transitioned to aggressive offense, putting tremendous pressure on his increasingly desperate opponent.
"Brother Shanks and that Xiahou are really going at it!" Ning Caichen observed, having finally emerged from behind Gustave.
Despite lacking any martial arts knowledge, even he could recognize the incredible skill both fighters displayed.
"Brother Ning, feeling braver now?" Gustave asked with mild interest.
"Please don't tease me, Brother Gustave," the scholar replied with an embarrassed smile.
"Actually, let me give you some advice," Gustave said seriously. "In a world full of demons like yours, ordinary people aren't completely helpless. If you encounter supernatural threats, muster your courage and let your yang energy rise. Most evil spirits will actually fear you. Even against human enemies, showing fierce determination often makes them back down."
"I understand. Thank you, Brother Gustave," Ning Caichen replied with solemn gratitude.
While they talked, the duel reached its climax. In battles between true masters, victory often came down to a single mistake or momentary advantage.
Under Shanks' relentless pressure, Xiahou's technique finally cracked. A hurried parry left him overextended, and Shanks' follow-up thrust stopped just short of piercing his nose.
"Brother Shanks is truly an exceptional swordsman!" Xiahou conceded gracefully, looking cross-eyed at the blade touching his face.
"Your skills aren't bad either," Shanks replied, withdrawing Griffin and extending his hand.
The two warriors shook hands with mutual respect, their brief but intense contest having forged the kind of bond that only came through crossing blades with a worthy opponent.