Unfortunate Transmigrator

52

Twice Cornered

I

Du Qing might be a conniving, ignoble wretch, but he knew his way with a sword—better than anyone Tian Jin had faced so far, even Lan Yue.

Tian Jin twisted his body out of the way of a cut aimed at his neck, then, turning on his heel, thrust his sword at Du Qing’s shoulder. Backstepping, arms jerking, Du Qing snapped his sword into position and parried the stab, throwing Tian Jin’s sword off to the side. Tian Jin shifted his weight forward and in one flowing movement, repositioned his sword in front of him to meet Du Qing’s.

Their blades locked.

Du Qing staggered back, but before Tian Jin could press his advantage, Du Qing adjusted his footing and brought his body up and forward, pushing back until the two of them were standing almost upright, leaning into their blades, counterbalanced by each other.

Dust hung in the air around, thrown up by the explosion from earlier, but most of it had already settled, rendering it barely noticeable.

Across him, Du Qing wore a hard, tight expression, sweat dripping from his brow. It wasn’t long before the stony mask gave way to a wince, then a grimace. Tian Jin caught blood welling up from a gash on Du Qing’s left arm, barely visible through the torn white sleeve of his robes. And on Du Qing’s right side, just above the hip, was another still-bleeding wound, deeper and wider than the shoulder one.

Tian Jin clenched his teeth, his arms and legs burning with the effort. He and Du Qing were of similar heights, with similar builds. Neither had the edge strength-wise. Skill was another matter. Right now, only one of them bled.

Du Qing let out a sharp, pained hiss, and then his arms slackened, sword dipping.

Standstill broken, charged with momentum, Tian Jin swung his sword at Du Qing’s chest. There was some resistance as blade met cloth, then flesh, but midway through the movement, a translucent red barrier appeared between them.

The sword caught. Tian Jin tightened his grip on the handle as a ringing tremor ran through his body at the sudden impact. As he stepped back, freeing his sword, he watched through the barrier as Du Qing retreated, putting some distance between them.

Tian Jin scowled. Thrice already had Du Qing used his spiritual skill to disengage after he’d managed to land a blow. Had it not been for Du Qing’s spiritual skill, Tian Jin had little doubt the fight would’ve ended long ago.

Tian Jin summoned a Red Nullification Gauntlet onto his left hand and struck the barrier. The barrier winked out of existence as a portion of his spiritual power vanished. Without stopping, Tian Jin barreled onto his target, reorienting his body mid-stride as he brought his sword forward, swinging out.

Du Qing—who’d had just enough time to fall into a defensive stance—parried the strike.

This time, Tian Jin fully threw himself into the offensive, giving Du Qing no respite. He didn’t bother dismissing the Red Nullification Gauntlets. When the barrier inevitably reappeared just as Tian Jin managed another cut, he was ready for it, twisting on his forefoot as he freed one of his hands from the sword to punch the barrier, vanishing it, before bringing his sword down at Du Qing’s shoulder.

It should’ve been the blow to end the fight.

Moving so fast he was almost a blur, Du Qing slammed his sword against Tian Jin’s, edge against edge, then snapped his wrist, flicking his sword so that the flat of his blade was against Tian Jin’s again.

What?

Tian Jin barely had time to react as Du Qing followed up with an upward swing, breaking the lock and throwing him off.

Tian Jin stumbled back, centered himself, and then jumped back to put on some distance. He warily eyed Du Qing, who didn’t give chase and only regarded him from the same spot, wearing a strange, almost contemplative look.

Something cold and heavy settled in Tian Jin’s gut like an omen. Just now, Du Qing had moved much faster than he’d since the start of the fight—too fast. He sent a burst of spiritual force to his eyes.

What he saw in front of him with Spiritual Sight wasn’t a fourth-level redsoul, but a fifth-level one.

“You really are something else, aren’t you, Tian Jin?” Du Qing slowly straightened up, pressing a hand under his right rib, where Tian Jin had just cut him.

Du Qing removed his now bloodied hand from his side and spared it a glance. He shook his head and let out a soft, barely noticeable sigh.

There were three brief flashes of light as small barriers appeared on Du Qing’s shoulder, waist, and rib—over each of the cuts Tian Jin had made. The barriers then shrunk, digging into flesh until the wounds were fully covered.

As the barrier settled, Du Qing grimaced, but only for a moment before he reassumed his stony mask. The beads of sweat gathering in his brow betrayed the strain he was under.

Tian Jin tightened his grip on his sword. At the same level, Du Qing wasn’t his match, but now that there was a level difference between them, he wasn’t so sure. He cast his gaze around. Hao Zhen was still gone, and Lan Yue had also disappeared at some point, together with the disciple she’d been fighting.

It didn’t seem like he could count on them for help—which was a problem. It wasn’t just Du Qing’s increase in level that worried him. To have been hiding his true level, Du Qing must’ve been covering his soul with a portion of his spiritual energy, except more sparsely, so that it’d look like a fourth-level soul. And that meant that this entire time Du Qing had been using only a fraction of his spiritual force. Now that he didn’t have to worry about that anymore, he’d be putting it to better use. Starting with those barriers he’d used to staunch his wounds.

“I’d seen you fight before. I’d seen how you thoroughly outclassed everyone you’ve faced so far. But I still thought I had an edge—or that I could at least match you.” Du Qing chuckled bitterly and briefly, then raised his sword.

Tian Jin tensed.

“Loathe as I am to admit it,” Du Qing carried on, and there was a tightness to his voice now, like a coiled spring, “you are better than me—assuming we are at the same level.” Du Qing leaned forward, snapping into a more aggressive stance, and Tian Jin mirrored him. “Let’s see how you fare now.”

They flung themselves at each other.

Blades met.

II

It was the blood that first caught her eye when Lan Yue finally saw Hao Zhen, coming to an abrupt stop as Hao Zhen did the same.

Crimson patches struck out starkly on the lighter red of his robes, concentrated just under his chest, but with smaller blotches all over him.

Then she noticed the lack of tears on his robes and how straight he was standing. Not his, she decided, relaxing. Even if he did look rather pale. She glanced down at his hands and saw that they were also bloodied.

Given the circumstances, that painted a promising picture.

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“He’s dead, then?” she asked.

Hao Zhen followed her gaze down to his hands, then cringed a little. She felt a pulse of spiritual power gather in his hand, and the blood, already dry, fell to the ground in flakes.

He met her eyes, his face unusually blank. “He is.”

She held his gaze for a moment and saw the steel in it. It seemed like the inner disciple wasn’t the only thing that had died. Good. She’d already cottoned on to Hao Zhen’s misgivings about killing, and it was something he could do without. “Good job,” she said.

And she meant it. Few cultivators could kill about their level. Doubtlessly, Hao Zhen’s victory had come from his spiritual skill, rather than his virtually nonexistent martial arts prowess, but what mattered was that he’d done it.

“Thanks,” Hao Zhen said, dryly. “What about you and Tian Jin?”

“Jiao Heng’s dead. Wasn’t much trouble,” Lan Yue said. “Tian Jin’s still fighting Du Qing. Or at least he was when I left to look for you.” She looked back in the direction she’d come from. They were too far away for her to see what was going on with them, even with Spiritual Sight. “He seemed to have it handled, but it might be a good idea for us to start making our way back just in case.”

“All right,” Hao Zhen said.

She gave him another look. He was definitely a little pale, but he’d been running when she found him, so he was probably fine. She nodded, mostly to herself, then turned around and set off. Hao Zhen was just a step behind. She set a quick pace—but not her fastest, as Hao Zhen was only a second-level redsoul—as they made their way back, cutting through the vegetation.

She kept using Spiritual Sight as she ran, and soon Tian Jin and Du Qing were once again within range. The two little dots in the distance were next to each other, almost pressed together. So they were still fighting—Du Qing was holding on better than she’d have thought.

Then she noticed that one of the souls was a shade deeper than the other.

Her heart skipped.

Fifth-level?

Tian Jin had only just broken through to the fourth level. That only left one option.

“I’m going on ahead,” she called to Hao Zhen, and without looking back, pushed off against the ground—this time holding nothing back—and launched herself forward.

The sounds reached her before she could see them—a sharp, staccato cacophony of metal on metal. Then she broke out of the tree line and into the clearing, summoning her sword at the same time, drawn and ready for bloodshed.

Tian Jin and Du Qing were near the middle of the clearing, swords out and swinging.

Tian Jin looked rather ruffled, and she could spot one or two tears on his robe, but he seemed to be otherwise unharmed. Du Qing, on the other hand, was visibly wounded—there were large, bloodied tears on his robes—but there seemed to be something on top of the wounds he could see. Some sort of red film. Radiant Light Barriers?

Neither had noticed her yet, so Lan Yue took a moment to observe the fight. Quickly it became clear that even though Tian Jin was in better condition, it was Du Qing who had the upper hand. Du Qing was faster, clearly, and stronger. It was through skill alone that Tian Jin was standing his ground, but Du Qing was hardly a slouch. It was only a matter of time before Tian Jin slipped.

She tensed as a barrier appeared between Tian Jin’s feet right as he was parrying a thrust. He managed to avoid it, but the momentary distraction allowed Du Qing to get a cut in, tearing a line in Tian Jin’s side—and this time drawing some blood.

Du Qing gave Tian Jin no moment to rest, and another slash followed, which Tian Jin only barely managed to parry.

She had seen enough.

III

When Hao Zhen arrived at the clearing, coming to an abrupt stop as he dug his foot into the dirt, it took him a moment to make sense of what he was seeing: in the middle of the meadow, atop the brown of the ground, three blurs—one red, one blue, one white—with gray streaks snapping around them, interspersed by brief flashes of red.

He’d been alarmed when Lan Yue had suddenly rushed ahead, and so he’d strained himself to follow as best as he could, keeping a constant flux of spiritual energy in his eyes. Not long after, he’d seen what had set Lan Yue off. A fifth-level redsoul where there should’ve been a fourth-level one.

And now, taking in the ongoing fight, he knew Lan Yue had been right to rush ahead—because even when faced against both Lan Yue and Tian Jin, both of whom Hao Zhen had seen fight above their level, Du Qing was still holding his ground.

Hao Zhen could only barely follow the fight, fast as they were moving, and it was clearly a close thing. The pacing of the battle was faster than any Hao Zhen had ever seen—the three swords swung and met so often that the chimes from their clashes seemed to meld together into a sharp, almost unbroken drone. Tian Jin and Lan Yue worked well together, but whenever they tried to coordinate an attack, Du Qing would raise a barrier in front of one of them and cross swords with the other, eliminating most of their advantage.

Directly joining the fight wasn’t an option—at worst, he’d get in the way; at best, he’d serve as a momentary distraction as Du Qing cut him down. Even if he’d been a fourth-level redsoul, he doubted he’d have been of much help. Although his skill with the sword was improving by the day, he still had a long way to go.

But that didn’t mean he was entirely useless.

Hao Zhen absently traced his spatial ring, going through his options, before letting his hand hang. None of his talismans would be of much use against a fifth-level redsoul. That left him with only one thing he could do.

He filled his lungs with the cool morning air and felt himself growing more energized, some of his exhaustion diminishing. Using Ethereal String Puppetry on the inner disciple earlier had drained a lot of him, but he’d some pills to recover his spiritual stamina and willpower immediately afterward, and by now he’d say he was pretty much back on his feet.

Du Qing was over three levels higher than him, though. It’d take everything Hao Zhen had to use Ethereal String Puppetry on him for only an instant, and to a very limited extent at that. But the extreme pacing of the fight worked to Hao Zhen’s advantage in this case. In a situation like that, even the smallest of blunders could be damning.

Eyes fixed on the fight, Hao Zhen produced his sound transmission token even as he extended an Ethereal String, willing it to connect to Du Qing.

He didn’t need to wait long for the right moment.

A barrier appeared in front of Lan Yue, cutting her off her so that Du Qing could focus on Tian Jin, and Hao Zhen immediately sent her a sound transmission, as brief as he could make it. Across the clearing, her eyes caught his. Then she made her way around the barrier and resumed attacking, as if nothing had happened.

Hao Zhen went back to waiting, taking the opportunity to gather his strength. The moment Du Qing erected another barrier, this time to fend off Tian Jin while moving to parry a strike from Lan Yue, Hao Zhen tapped into the Ethereal String and channeled all his willpower into paralyzing Du Qing’s arms.

Hao Zhen felt his energies—mental and spiritual—plunge, vanishing so quickly it hit him almost like a physical blow. But he’d been expecting it and managed to keep his eyes trained on the fight.

And so he saw as Du Qing, arms paralyzed, failed to raise his sword in time—and how Lan Yue’s sword almost reached Du Qing’s chest before Du Qing managed to twist his body to the side, sacrificing his right shoulder to save his heart.

IV

Gritting his teeth so hard he could’ve shattered them, Du Qing acted more on instinct than anything else as he jumped back and, midair, snapped a Radiant Light Barrier—as big as any he’d made so far—between himself and Tian Jin and Duo Lan.

He staggered as his feet made contact with the ground, his left hand going to his twice-wounded shoulder. He clutched at his newest, and by far gravest, wound.

The cuts he’d suffered from Tian Jin before had burned and ached, but he’d been able to ignore them easily enough, and the barriers ensured they didn’t get in the way too much.

The stab on his shoulder was a completely different beast. It was a bright, almost blinding agony—and he could hardly feel his right arm at all, let alone move it. He kept his teeth clenched shut, lest he suffer the indignity of letting free the scream trying to escape his chest.

It was only through sheer discipline that he kept his grip on his sword, but he could already feel it slipping, his grip slackening, so he quickly willed the sword into his spatial ring while producing a talisman from it in his left hand.

Tian Jin and Lan Yue broke the barrier he’d made just before, but they stopped in their tracks at the sight of his talisman, watching leerily from where they stood. Probably wary of some kind of trap.

Du Qing cast his gaze past them, to their wretched tag-along—Hao Zhen—at the edge of the glade. Something had happened to him when he’d tried to block Lan Yue’s strike—his arm had refused to move—and he suspected the boy was behind it, even if he was merely a second-level redsoul.

That made Hao Zhen an unknown. A potentially fatal one. As if facing Tian Jin and Lan Yue wasn’t hard enough in his current state.

And neither of the two men he’d brought along were anywhere to be seen. Likely dead, just like everyone else he’d sent against Tian Jin and his loathsome little group.

He clenched his left hand into a fist, feeling the talisman crumple under his grasp. It was a sixth-level explosion talisman—useful, but hardly enough to turn this situation around. Then again, nothing he had could turn this situation around. He didn’t have anyone else to call over, or any talisman more useful or more powerful than the one he already had in his hand.

His eyes sought Tian Jin again, and he met the younger man’s—the boy’s—eyes.

This. This was where everything had gone wrong. Where all of his plans, years in the making, had come undone with such astonishing speed and ease it was almost comical.

Just why did someone like Tian Jin have to appear now? Just why did this miserable creature have to go and catch Bao Yun’s eyes?

As if the Heavens were playing a trick on him—as if they weren’t satisfied with the misfortune and ruin they’d already wrought upon him—Du Qing saw her.

Like a dream, Bao Yun stepped out from the shade of the trees and into the sun, behind Tian Jin and Duo Lan. He blinked, doubting his eyes. But the sight of her didn’t fade. There she was, unmistakably, with her brown locks, heart-shaped face, and large, doe eyes. Standing there. Looking at him.

The vision of her—something he always welcomed—struck him with more force than any punch could ever produce. Air fled his lungs as his mind whirred.

No. No. Nonononono.

Why! Just why!

“Du Qing?” Bao Yun said, quietly, like a whisper, and the confusion and apprehension tore at him so terribly it beggared all the fleshly pain he felt.

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