Chapter 103: I Am a Man

Sparks flew and burst into the air, illuminating the faces of everyone present.

Beneath his bamboo hat, a pair of indifferent eyes showed not the slightest hint of panic. Just as Old Thief suddenly lunged forward to thrust the burning charcoal toward him, Wahai seemed to have foreseen this moment, his body darting backward in flight.

Wang Lao'er kicked a half-burnt piece of wood aside, and amidst the crackling sound of the embers, he pursued Wahai closely.

A punch!

Behind the shower of sparks, Wang Lao'er was focused as never before. Wahai’s eyes flashed sharply beneath his hat, and he countered with a punch of his own.

*Bang!*

A fierce gust of wind exploded outward from where their forces collided. Dried grass was pulverized into dust and scattered into the air. Wang Lao'er was sent flying backward.

*Puff!*

He spat out a mouthful of blood and shouted, "My Lord, run!"

Old Thief had already lunged forward. Wahai delivered a brutal, unreasonable kick. Old Thief dodged it with cunning, his blade slicing through the gap in the rushing wind. Wahai responded with another punch.

*Clang!*

As fist met blade, the punch continued forward, shattering the steel. Fragments of the weapon flew in every direction.

Amidst the shrill whistling of air, Yang Xuan released his hold. An arrow shot across the space between them like lightning. Wahai was forced to retract his fist, flicking his finger to deflect the shot.

*Ding!*

The arrow spiraled off into the night sky. A second arrow followed in quick succession. Wahai soared into the air, diving toward Yang Xuan like a demonic god.

Wang Lao'er, having just landed, swallowed his blood and stood firm in front of Yang Xuan.

Yang Xuan drew his blade. The light of the steel flickered. Wang Lao'er threw a punch, and Old Thief struck from behind Wahai.

*Bang!*

Wang Lao'er retreated two steps, while Wahai twisted his body with incredible speed, evading to the right. He stopped and raised his left hand, which held a portrait, then looked at Old Thief.

"Blind man."

Old Thief panted, a smile on his face. "What did you say?"

Wahai shifted his gaze to Wang Lao'er. "Fool!"

Wang Lao'er grew furious. "Your whole family is full of fools!"

Wahai stared at Yang Xuan. "You must be the young magistrate!"

The cultivation of this man was far beyond Yang Xuan's reach. Countless thoughts raced through his mind, the most prominent being to fight to the death. As for abandoning Old Thief and Wang Lao'er to escape, that thought never even crossed his mind.

But!

"A great man knows when to yield and when to stand tall!" Zhuque warned.

Yang Xuan wore a blank expression. "There are so many people in the world who look alike. I am merely a merchant; are you not mistaken? Besides, I heard that a young magistrate had arrived in Taiping County, but I have never seen him."

Wahai tucked the portrait away and looked up.

In an instant, Yang Xuan drew his bow and nocked an arrow, while Old Thief circled around the side, throwing something from his hand. Wang Lao'er charged forward once more.

Wahai easily deflected the arrow, sent Wang Lao'er flying with a single punch, and kicked aside the stone Old Thief had thrown. He let out a long whistle, pushed off the ground with his bare feet, and closed in.

A punch.

Before the fist even arrived, the pressure of the wind made Yang Xuan’s face sting.

He took a deep breath and gripped his blade with both hands. He knew this was the critical moment. The internal energy within his body was desperately mobilized.

"My Lord!" Old Thief flew toward them.

*Bang!*

Wahai knocked Old Thief away with a single blow. Suddenly, Wang Lao'er’s foolish face appeared before him. Wang Lao'er, looking solemn as a temple guardian, slapped out with his palm.

"Oh?" Wahai let out a soft exclamation, blocking with his left hand.

*Bang!*

Wang Lao'er took a step back and, without hesitation, kicked Yang Xuan, sending him flying toward the horses.

"My Lord, go!"

As he spoke, blood gushed from the corners of his mouth. Yet, he unhesitatingly stood in the path of Wahai’s pursuit.

"Get lost!" Wahai struck with a punch.

"Lao'er, retreat!" Old Thief lay on the ground, struggling to stand, but as he lifted his head, he collapsed heavily once more. A surge of internal energy was rampaging through his body; his priority should have been to lie still and channel his own energy to resist the intrusion.

*I am just a grave robber...*

Like a man facing his final moments, the life of Old Thief flashed before his eyes in an instant. Grave robbing, scraping a living from beneath the earth, until he made a mistake in Northern Liao and was hunted down. To escape the waves of pursuers, he had deliberately committed a crime to get himself thrown into prison. He had expected to spend his life behind bars.

But he never expected that one day, he would be pulled out.

That young man had said to him, "Use your skills as a thief to do me a favor, and you will be free."

After that, he stayed by the young man's side.

Until this very moment!

In that household, no one looked down on him, and no one despised him. He had lived as a ghost among men for most of his life, only to realize, after coming to his Lord’s side, that he had finally lived as a true human being.

*I am a man!*

Old Thief raised his eyes. They were burning crimson!

He forced his internal energy to circulate.

*Puff!*

A mouthful of reverse-flowing blood sprayed out. Wang Lao'er summoned his remaining strength and lashed out with a palm strike.

Yang Xuan stepped onto the back of his horse and vaulted back into the fray. All his internal energy was gathered into a single point. Yang Xuan swung his blade with all his might.

Wahai’s reaction was unexpectedly slow.

*Bang!*

He traded a blow with Wang Lao'er. The blade light flashed.

*Boom!*

Wang Lao'er was sent flying. Yang Xuan’s blade shattered. Wahai retreated several steps; the clothes on his chest and abdomen suddenly split open, and blood began to drip down.

He squinted at Yang Xuan. "I was careless."

But!

Yang Xuan was right before him!

Wahai’s internal energy was colliding within his own body, leaving him completely unable to move.

Wahai gave a stiff smile and reached out; his hand now held a small, broken blade fragment. "Die!"

He intended to behead him and take the head back!

Yang Xuan watched this in despair.

A hand suddenly and abruptly grabbed the blade. Old Thief had appeared before Wahai, shielding Yang Xuan. He was panting—gasping for air like a madman.

Wahai was stunned, then pushed with force. Blood gushed from Old Thief's hand. He was pushed backward, yet he refused to let go.

"My Lord, retreat..." Old Thief cried out in agony.

Wahai suddenly began to cough—the result of the damage Wang Lao'er had inflicted upon him. He pushed off the ground with his toes, but Old Thief suddenly let go and lunged forward, biting down hard on his calf.

"Ah!"

Overcome by sharp pain, Wahai raised his hand, preparing to strike down. This blow would have shattered Old Thief’s spine.

A fist suddenly appeared before his eyes.

Wahai looked up and saw Yang Xuan’s face.

*This man is not running?*

Wahai moved his leg, and Old Thief was sent flying. A palm appeared behind Wahai.

The sound of hoofbeats suddenly rang out.

"Scouts of the Great Tang are here! Who is fighting there?"

More than a dozen riders galloped toward them.

"Form ranks!" came a sharp command from the scout unit. "Archers!"

Amidst the creaking of bowstrings, Wahai’s figure flickered. He turned back to give Yang Xuan one last, deep look, and said in a chilling voice:

"I will be waiting for you!"

Before the arrows could even reach him, Wahai had darted away. In the night sky, his figure moved like a phantom.

"Pursue!"

The dozen riders prepared to chase.

"Halt!" Yang Xuan shouted, stopping them.

The horses trotted forward, surrounding them. After verifying their identities, the lead soldier asked, "Does Magistrate Yang know who the attacker was?"

"Wahai of the Washe Tribe," Yang Xuan said, helping Old Thief sit by the fire. "Are you alright?"

Old Thief smiled miserably. "I won't die."

Yang Xuan then pulled Wang Lao'er over.

"Lao'er! Lao'er!"

Wang Lao'er’s face was covered in blood, a terrifying sight. He opened his eyes, shuddered, and only relaxed upon seeing Yang Xuan. The corners of his mouth cracked open. "The Lord is still here..."

"Yes!" Yang Xuan could only manage a single word, lest the ache in his nose bring tears to his eyes.

Wang Lao'er chuckled. "My Lord, meat."

"Yes!"

He held one in each arm, laughing.

Laughing until he could no longer hold it in.