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Chapter 19 — The Lure and The General's Command
The Calculation
The Iron-Hide Bear roared.
The sound was not just loud—it was oppressive. It crushed the air, rattled the wooden roofs, and sent a tremor through the frozen ground.
CRASH!
A wooden cart exploded into splinters beneath its paw. Grain scattered across the snow like spilled bones. Chickens shrieked and fled. Dogs whimpered and hid.
Meng Village collapsed into chaos.
Villagers screamed and ran in every direction. Some tripped over each other. Some froze in terror, unable to move at all. The guards shouted uselessly, their spears shaking in their hands.
At the edge of the village, the massive beast stood like a living disaster.
Inside his hut, Long Tan stood in the doorway, unmoving.
The fire behind him crackled softly. Outside, the village burned with panic.
'I could stay inside,' Long Tan thought coldly.
His fingers tightened slowly around the handle of his Heavy Iron Saber.
'I could bolt the door. I could let the Bear crush the Elder first. Let Zhou Gou be torn apart screaming.'
His eyes flicked briefly toward the square, where Zhou Gou was already crawling on the ground behind a trough, his injured leg dragging uselessly behind him.
'They deserve it.'
The thought was calm. Not angry. Not emotional. Just factual.
Then Long Tan's gaze shifted.
He saw a woman trip in the snow, clutching a crying child to her chest as she fell. He saw an old man frozen in place, too slow to run, staring at the beast with empty eyes. He saw the village gate—already cracked, already half-broken.
His jaw tightened.
'If the village falls,' he calculated, 'bandits will come next.'
This place was a border village. Weak. Poor. Easy prey.
'If everyone dies… my house becomes the only target left.'
His eyes hardened.
'And if I save them now…'
A slow, deliberate breath.
'Their hate turns into debt.'
Long Tan understood people. A village that feared him would stab him in the back. A village that hated him would wait for him to fall.
But a village that owed him? That was different.
'A village in debt is safer for Su Lan than a village full of resentment.'
He stepped forward, his boots crunching the snow.
"I am not a hero," Long Tan whispered to himself. "I am securing my territory."
Taking Command
Long Tan walked out into the snow.
He did not run. He did not hesitate.
He marched.
The Bear lifted its massive head slightly, sensing movement.
"EVERYONE—FREEZE!"
Long Tan's voice exploded outward.
It was not a shout filled with panic. It was a command—cold, sharp, absolute.
Backed by 465 Jin of lung power and killing intent, the sound hit the village like a war hammer.
The screaming stopped.
People froze mid-step. Even the Bear paused, its massive head turning slightly, confused by the sudden authority cutting through the chaos.
Long Tan did not slow down.
"Women and children," he barked, pointing with his saber, "to the Ancestral Hall. Now."
His eyes swept across the guards, who were trembling holding their spears.
"Guards—form a rear line. You do not fight. You do not provoke it."
His voice dropped lower, heavier.
"You move people. Anyone who panics gets trampled. Anyone who disobeys gets left behind."
No one questioned him.
Zhou Gou was curled beside a water trough, shaking violently. The Village Elder clutched his cane, lips pale, eyes wide.
"He… he's taking command?" the Elder whispered.
Not asking. Not pleading. Commanding.
And to their own shock, the villagers obeyed. Because when hope died, instinct listened to strength.
The Stinking Lure
The Iron-Hide Bear suddenly lunged toward a stumbling woman, its patience gone.
"HEY."
A sharp whistle cut through the air.
Long Tan stepped forward, banging his saber against his chest plate.
"Ugly."
He reached into his belt and pulled out a clay jar sealed with black wax.
Stinking Black Sap.
Without hesitation, he smashed it against his chest armor.
SPLAT.
The jar shattered.
A horrific stench exploded outward—rotting fish, wild musk, bitter resin, and spoiled blood mixed into a choking wave that made several villagers gag instantly.
The Bear recoiled violently.
It sneezed, shook its head, and roared in rage. The smell burned its sensitive nose, overwhelming every other scent in the area. The smell of the woman, the Elder, and the blood vanished.
The villagers vanished from its senses.
Only one target remained.
Long Tan.
"Come," Long Tan sneered.
He turned and ran—straight toward the open clearing near the frozen stream, away from every house.
The Iron-Hide Bear thundered after him. Each step shook the ground.
The Dance of the Bear
Long Tan stopped in the clearing. The moonlight reflected off the ice of the frozen stream.
He turned.
The Bear rose onto its hind legs, towering nearly three meters tall. Its shadow swallowed Long Tan whole, blotting out the moonlight.
The villagers watched from behind broken fences and doorways, breath caught in their throats.
They expected to see Long Tan crushed.
The Bear swung.
SWISH!
Long Tan stepped back once.
The claws missed his face by less than a palm's width. The wind from the strike ruffled his hair.
The Bear swung again.
SWISH!
Another step. Another miss.
Long Tan's eyes were calm, analyzing the beast like a butcher analyzes a carcass.
'Two legs. Two toes,' he analyzed in real time. 'When it stands, all its weight commits forward. Its recovery is slow.'
The Bear roared and attacked again. Left. Right. Downward smash.
Long Tan weaved.
Not jumping. Not rolling. Just stepping.
To the villagers, it looked unreal.
"He's… dodging it?" a guard whispered. "We couldn't even see the strikes…"
Long Tan wasn't blocking. He wasn't forcing strength against strength yet.
He was reading.
And the Bear was being exposed.
The Nose Cut
"You are strong," Long Tan muttered, ducking under a lethal backhand. "But your hide is all you have."
The Bear lunged again, enraged by the elusive fly.
Its skull was iron. Its chest was iron.
But its nose—
Soft. Wet. Alive.
Long Tan stepped inside its reach.
His saber moved.
SLASH!
The blade avoided the skull completely and carved straight through the Bear's black, wet nose.
ROAAAAAR!!!
Blood sprayed across the white snow like paint.
The Bear stumbled back, clutching its face, screaming—not in rage, but in raw, blinding pain.
The village froze.
Their arrows had bounced. Their spears had snapped.
But Long Tan had drawn blood with a single clean strike.
He flicked the blood from his saber and stood untouched beneath the moon. His breathing was steady.
"Is that all?" he asked calmly.
In that moment, something changed.
The Outcast vanished. The Thief vanished.
Standing in the clearing was not a hunter. But a General, calmly measuring his enemy.
The Cold Calculation
The Bear was hurt, but it wasn't dead. It was shaking its head, blood flying from its nose. Its eyes were turning red with madness. It dropped to all fours, preparing to charge like a battering ram.
Long Tan tightened his grip on the saber. He knew the fight was about to change.
'Its hide is too thick,' he thought. 'A normal slash won't kill it quickly enough. If I want to end this in one second, I need explosive power.'
His mind went to the [Sun Burst] technique.
He imagined channeling the boiling heat from his stomach into his arm. He imagined the explosion of 800 Jin force detonating through the blade. It would surely crush the skull.
But then, he looked at his hand.
'Channeling that much force through a rigid steel handle... the recoil will be devastating. My capillaries will burst. My muscles will tear. My right hand will be a swollen, useless lump of meat for at least three days.'
He frowned.
In two days, he had to meet the Yan Clan Merchant. He had to mix soap. He had to sign contracts. He had to look strong and capable, not crippled with a bandaged hand.
'A cripple cannot negotiate a good price,'
[AUTHOR'S NOTE]
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