Chapter 28 — The Sweeping Sword and The Fire in the Boy's Eyes
The Spoils of the Dead
The gorge was silent. The snow continued to fall, slowly burying the violence that had just occurred.
Long Tan knelt in the bloody slush, his breath coming in ragged, painful gasps.
"Haa... haa..."
He forced himself to ignore the throbbing agony in his right arm. The adrenaline was fading, and the cold was creeping in. He had to be quick.
He crouched over the headless body of the Black Guard (700 Jin).
With his good left hand, he patted down the heavy armor.
Clink.
He pulled a heavy leather pouch from the belt. It was wet with blood, but the weight was undeniable.
He opened it. The glint of silver shone in the moonlight.
[Loot: 45 Silver Taels.]
"Mercenaries carry their life savings with them," Long Tan muttered, pocketing the wealth.
Then, his fingers brushed against a hard lump in the guard's inner vest.
He pulled out a small, sealed wooden box made of Iron-Wood.
Inside sat a single, strange object.
It was a seed. But it was the size of a walnut, black as night, with faint red veins pulsing on its surface like a heartbeat.
[Item Detected: Unknown Spirit Seed.]
[Status: Dormant.]
Long Tan didn't know what it was, but a 700 Jin master treated it like a treasure.
"The Vital Soil will know what to do with you," he whispered, tucking it safely into his shirt.
Next, he moved to Zhou Cang.
Inside the captain's chest armor, protected from the gore, was a thin blue book.
Long Tan flipped it open. The pages were worn.
[Manual: Sweeping Sword Technique]
Rank: Peak Yellow-Grade (Offensive).
Description: Channels Internal Energy through the blade to create a sweeping arc of destruction. Requires high Qi density.
Long Tan's eyes narrowed.
This is the Zhou Family's signature technique. If I use this, people might recognize it.
He looked at his ruined right arm.
But I need range. My Sun Burst is powerful, but it breaks my body. This technique... it uses Qi to project force. If I master this, I can kill from a distance without crippling myself.
Besides... I am already at war with them. Why not use their own fang to bite their throat?
He shoved the manual into his belt.
The Cleanup
The cleanup was grueling work.
One by one, Long Tan dragged the three heavy bodies to the edge of the deep ravine.
He kicked them over the edge.
Thump... Thump... Crash.
They tumbled down into the darkness, disappearing into a snowdrift ten feet deep.
"Sleep well," Long Tan whispered. "The wolves will find you in spring."
He used a large pine branch to sweep the area. He scattered fresh snow over the bloodstains, covering the red slush with white powder. within twenty minutes, the gorge looked pristine again.
Finally, he walked over to the Bag of Fat.
The burlap sack was torn, and half the contents were spilled. But about 30 pounds of high-quality animal fat remained frozen in a solid chunk.
Most men would leave it. It was heavy, greasy, and cheap.
But Long Tan picked it up.
"I nearly died for this," he grunted, hoisting the greasy sack onto his good left shoulder. "I am not going home empty-handed."
The Silent Return
Long Tan moved through the forest like a wounded ghost.
He avoided the main road. He walked through the deep drifts, his shadow blending with the trees.
His right arm hung limp, wrapped in a piece of torn cloth to hide the charred flesh.
Midnight.
He reached the village. It was dead silent.
He slipped into his courtyard, placed the bag of fat in the storage shed, and walked to the door of his hut.
He paused.
He wiped the blood from his face with snow. He fixed his hair.
He tried to look like a husband returning from work, not a killer returning from war.
The Horror and The Lie
Creak.
The wooden door opened.
Inside, the hut was warm. The fire was crackling.
Su Lan was sitting by the table, mending a small shirt. In the corner, in a woven basket crib, baby Long Hao was sleeping peacefully, his small chest rising and falling.
Su Lan looked up, her face lighting up with relief.
"Tan! You are la—"
The smile froze.
She dropped the needle.
She saw the pallor of his skin. She saw the way his right arm hung dead at his side, wrapped in bloody rags.
"Tan!"
She rushed to him, her hands hovering over him, terrified to touch him.
"Oh gods... blood. There is so much blood."
Panic rose in her voice. "Did the wolf...?"
Long Tan stumbled to the wooden chair and sat down heavily. The pain was making his vision blur.
"Shh," he whispered, forcing a weak smile. "Quiet, Lan. You will wake the baby."
"Who did this?" she cried softly, tears spilling down her cheeks. She grabbed a warm towel and began to dab his forehead.
"Bandits," Long Tan lied.
He looked into her terrified eyes.
"On the road back. Just common bandits. Two of them. They were strong... but I drove them off."
He couldn't tell her it was the Zhou Clan. If she knew the Lords of the City were hunting them, her heart would break from fear.
The Fire in the Boy's Eyes
A small rustle came from the bedroom curtain.
Little San stood there. He was rubbing his sleepy eyes, clutching a small wooden toy.
"Papa?"
The boy walked into the light.
He stopped.
He looked at his father's blackened, swollen arm. He smelled the metallic scent of blood and burnt flesh.
Little San didn't cry. He didn't scream.
He walked up to Long Tan's knee.
He reached out a small hand and touched Long Tan's uninjured left hand.
"Papa," Little San whispered. "Does it hurt?"
"Only a little, San," Long Tan lied, patting the boy's head. "Papa won."
Little San turned his head. He looked at the bloody rags.
His small fists clenched at his sides. His knuckles turned white.
When he looked up again, his eyes were not the eyes of a child.
They burned with a fierce, terrifying light. It was the look of a wolf cub seeing blood for the first time.
"Who hurt you?" Little San asked. His voice was low, shaking with a primitive rage.
"I will kill them."
The boy turned to the door, his small body trembling.
"I will kill the bad men. I will kill anyone who touches our family. I will destroy them all!"
Long Tan was shocked. He saw the potential for violence in his son—the spirit of a warrior.
He pulled Little San into a hug with his good arm.
"Shh. The bad men are gone, San. I promise."
"One day, you will be strong enough to protect us," Long Tan whispered into the boy's hair. "But tonight, I need you to be brave and help Mama. Can you do that?"
Little San took a deep breath. He wiped his angry tears. He nodded solemnity.
"Yes, Papa."
The Vital Soup
Su Lan saw the strength in her husband and son, and she wiped her own tears.
"I will make the medicine," she said, her voice finding its steel.
She ran to the pantry.
She brought out the treasures:
Vital Peach Leaves (Dried, glowing faintly).
Blood-Clotting Grass (Fresh red stalks).
She threw them into a clay pot with water.
As the soup boiled, a rich, aromatic steam filled the small hut. It didn't smell like food; it smelled like life itself. The red grass dissolved, turning the broth a deep crimson color.
"Drink," Su Lan ordered, holding the bowl to his lips.
Long Tan drank.
The soup was hot, but as it slid down his throat, it exploded into cool, refreshing energy.
Whoosh.
The Vital Peach essence rushed to his Dantian, refilling his empty Stamina.
The Blood-Clotting Grass moved to his arm, wrapping around the burnt nerves like a cooling bandage.
"Haa..." Long Tan exhaled, a long stream of white steam escaping his lips.
Color returned to his pale face. The throbbing pain dulled into a manageable ache.
Su Lan quickly applied the herbal paste to his skin and wrapped it in clean linen.
Long Tan closed his eyes, sensing his body.
[System Diagnosis: Recovery Speed Increased by 500%.]
[Estimated Healing Time: 4 Days.]
"It works," Long Tan said, opening his eyes. "With these herbs, I won't be crippled for months. Give me a few days, and I will be ready to hold a sword again."
He looked at his sleeping baby, his fierce son, and his weeping wife.
"We are safe," he promised them.
The Arrogance of the Wolf
Meng City. The Zhou Estate.
While Long Tan fought for recovery, Zhou Ming sat in his luxurious study, surrounded by silk and gold.
He held a cup of expensive warm wine.
He looked at the mechanical clock on the wall.
Tick. Tock.
"Past midnight," he muttered.
A servant refilled his cup. "Young Master, Captain Zhou and the Black Guard are not back yet. Should we send a patrol?"
Zhou Ming laughed, leaning back in his chair. He waved his hand dismissively.
"Relax. You know Zhou Cang. He likes to play with his food. He probably killed the hunter hours ago and is taking his time looting the body."
He took a sip of wine, savoring the sweetness.
"Or perhaps they are cleaning up the mess. The Black Guard is thorough. He wouldn't leave evidence for the Yan Family to find."
Zhou Ming smiled into his cup, completely unaware that his "thorough" guard was currently frozen solid at the bottom of a ravine, and his Captain was headless.
"Let them take their time," Zhou Ming yawned, blowing out the candle.
"Tomorrow, I will have the soap recipe, and the Yan Family will lose their golden goose. Victory is inevitable."
He went to sleep, dreaming of wealth.
He didn't know that in the darkness of the village, a Hunter was sharpening his fangs.
[End of Chapter 28]
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