Seeing the excitement on their faces, Yu Liang let out a slow breath. His grip on the blade loosened a little, but his eyes stayed steady as he looked at the survivors.
"Enough."
His voice cut through the whispers.
"You can’t stay like this forever, waiting for someone else to save you."
He took a step forward. Blood still dripping from the edge of the blade, his tone neither gentle nor harsh.
"Everyone fears death. Even I do. But if you’re going to walk this path, if you’re going to call yourselves cultivators, then you have to decide. Are you going to hide and die like dogs, or stand and die with at least a shred of dignity? No one is going to hand you courage. You have to carve it out yourself."
The disciples lowered their heads. The words were heavy, but not cruel. A few clenched their fists. Some straightened their backs a little.
Inside, Yu Liang’s thoughts were quiet colder and darker.
’If there’s a way to survive, why wouldn’t I take it? Only a fool would throw away a chance to live for the sake of honor. In the end, what keeps you alive isn’t pride. It’s strength.’
He kept those thoughts to himself. There was no reason to say them aloud.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
The slow, deliberate sound made everyone turn.
From the shadows at the edge of the forest, a man dressed in black stepped forward. Faint patterns ran along the edges of his robe, resembling serpents coiling around the fabric. His hair was tied back with a crimson cord, and his expression remained calm and detached.
Even as his boots stepped over the blood soaked deck, he didn’t glance at the corpses once.
His eyes, sharp and faintly amused, swept across the carnage like he was looking at a painting.
"Well, you really gave them an impassioned speech," he said in a mocking tone.
He crouched beside a corpse and flicked it with one finger.
"Tch. Worthless."
With a casual wave of his hand, the body jerked like it had been pulled by invisible strings.
Whoosh.
It flew past Yu Liang and smashed into the broken railing and wood cracked under the impact.
The man straightened and brushed nonexistent dust from his sleeve. A thin smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Ohh! How forgetful of me. Let me introduce myself." He clasped his hands behind his back, making his posture almost elegant.
"I’m Wang Shen. An Outer Sect disciple of the Passion Sect."
He smiled in what could hardly be considered a smile. "You’re pretty good," he said slowly, dragging out each syllable as though he were savoring every second.
His eyes scanned through the corpse littered ground without showing any care at all. "You did well enough in eliminating those pests. But..." His eyes squinted, "There’s a sect that I have to answer to. These fools have been under my surveillance. So could you, please?" He inclined his head, almost formally. "Die."
The last word hadn’t even faded before the air distorted around him.
Yu Liang’s vision blurred and black robes flashed before his eyes, suddenly, Wang Shen stood directly in front of him.
Two fingers pressed against his chest, as if pinning a sheet of paper in place.
Next came the impact.
There was a tremendous force behind that seemingly casual touch, his ribs shattered as he was sent flying backward.
CRACK.
Splinters exploded into the air.
CRACK!
The railing shattered as Yu Liang was sent flying through it. He slammed into the ground and skidded several meters, his back carving deep lines through the dirt.
"Guh!"
Pain shot through his spine. He clenched his teeth as blood rose into his throat.
"Cough! Cough!"
He spat onto the ground with the bitter and metallic taste of blood in his mouth.
Wei Feng rushed forward but remained motionless midway, as shock paralyzed him. Xiao Fei crumpled down to his knees, his face turning pale white as his breathing got stuck halfway between a gasp and a scream. The other disciples stepped back seeing the gap between them.
Wang Shen didn’t even look at the other handyman disciples. He brushed imaginary dust from his sleeve once again, eyes never leaving Yu Liang, like he was watching a trapped insect.
"See? Nothing more than a pest."
The nails of Yu Liang dug into the soil. His lungs felt like they were on fire, he never felt this much pain before.
He tried to force his eyelids open.
His sword was lying a couple of paces away from him.
He extended his arm, but his body wouldn’t respond. His hand shook wildly as he crawled toward his weapon bit by bit.
’I can’t stop now.’
He could see everything becoming foggy, but he clenched his jaw and kept moving.
Wang Shen walked over with a trace of amusement in his voice.
"You want that blade?"
He slid it closer with his foot.
Yu Liang pushed himself up, trembling, using the blade for support. His grip was unsteady, but he managed to get to his feet.
Wang Shen watched him struggle and a faint smile appeared on his face. He nodded, almost as if encouraging a junior who had finally understood an important lesson.
"Good. Very good."
He clasped his hands behind his back.
"Life is precious thing you know. Naturally, every living creature will cling to it when death comes knocking. So, there’s nothing shameful about that."
His smile widened even more.
"So, don’t give up yet. You wish to live, don’t you?"
He raised a hand and beckoned him forward.
"Come on."
His voice remained calm, almost gentle.
"Pick up your blade and hit me."
Yu Liang steadied his breathing as best he could. The blade still trembled faintly in his hands. His knees threatened to give out, but he forced himself forward and slashed once, then again but his movements lacked balance.
Wang Shen sidestepped easily. The first strike whistled past his shoulder. The second missed his ribs by a hand’s breadth. His expression barely changed — still faintly amused, like he was watching a child learn to walk.
Yu Liang kept going anyway, his third strike came harder as he made the blade drag a harsh line across the ground then pulled it upward toward Wang Shen’s chest.
This time Wang Shen simply lifted his foot and shifted just enough for the blade to cut empty air. In the same motion he brought his palm forward and struck Yu Liang square in the chest again.
This time impact wasn’t as devastating as the first, but it was enough to knock the breath out of him and send him stumbling back few steps.
Yu Liang coughed, clutching the blade tighter to keep it from collapsing. His chest burned even more, yet his legs no longer shook as violently as before. He raised the weapon again but slower this time. The tremor in his arms was starting to fade.
His stance changed. So did his breathing which returned to normal
"That’s better." Wang Shen grinned, watching Yu Liang force himself back onto his feet. "Now you’re starting to look like someone who actually wants to live."
He gave an approving nod.
Yu Liang took another breath. His sweat dripping from the side of his face. The pain in his chest remained, but rather than overwhelming him, it kept him focused. He tightened his hold on the sword’s hilt, now holding onto it with both hands. The sword was not wavering nearly as much as it did before. His gaze, which had previously been cloudy, was somewhat steady now.
The battle had only just begun.