Chapter 11: Burning the Boats and Facing the Gamble

Zhou Chen pointed to a spot not far away and said to Su Mu, “I’ll stand right there. You don’t need to move.” Without even a step, his figure drifted like a ghost toward the place he’d indicated, stopping about seven or eight paces from Su Mu. With his hands clasped behind his back, he smiled and asked, “Well? Shall we begin?”

Su Mu’s heart leapt at the sight. The distance was not great, and Zhou Chen seemed to underestimate him. This was his chance.

“Alright!” Su Mu agreed readily. He glanced at Mu Zhenshan, who was locked in a fierce battle in the arena, yearning for the skill to protect An Rui as Mu Zhenshan did. But yearning aside, the fight between Mu Zhenshan and Du Feiyang inspired him, filling his heart with the courage to press forward, relegating his earlier worries to a single resolve.

Xiao Lan shouted from beside him, “Be careful, Su Mu!”

Su Mu nodded, then turned to look at An Rui.

“If things go wrong, you must put your own life first. You must survive for the future. There’s no shame in begging for mercy against someone this formidable,” An Rui instructed simply, fearing Su Mu might act recklessly and lose his life.

Su Mu nodded vigorously to An Rui, though he’d already resolved not to beg for mercy, no matter what. He loosened his joints and fixed his gaze on Zhou Chen, signaling his readiness.

Zhou Chen found Su Mu’s preparations amusing. Even given ten or a hundred years, Su Mu would never touch him. Su Mu did not realize that Zhou Chen’s abilities in the Pinglong Fortress surpassed even Du Feiyang’s. Facing Du Feiyang and Mu Zhenshan’s intense duel left Zhou Chen unmoved, for if he fought seriously, neither would be his match.

Yet Zhou Chen was a deeply concealed figure, ruthless in action, seldom leaving survivors, and few knew the true extent of his skill.

Now, seeing Su Mu poised to strike and An Rui watching Su Mu intently, Zhou Chen’s heart was dissatisfied. He called out, “Wait.”

Su Mu paused, asking, “What’s wrong? I’m ready.”

Zhou Chen’s face twisted into a wicked smile. “You dared defy me earlier. I must collect some interest first.” With a wave of his hand, a flash of silver shot toward Su Mu’s feet, then vanished back into Zhou Chen’s sleeve.

Su Mu felt his right leg buckle. Looking down, he saw his Achilles tendon severed, blood pooling around his foot. His leg gave way and he collapsed forward, the cries of An Rui and Xiao Lan ringing in his ears.

Xiao Lan wailed, cursing Zhou Chen, “You bastard! You said you wouldn’t hurt Su Mu. Your words are nothing but air!”

Zhou Chen sneered. “I said I wouldn’t harm him within ten breaths after the wager began. It hasn’t started yet. This brat showed me such disrespect; if I don’t collect some interest, people will think I lack a temper. And as for you, little girl, if you keep defying me, do you really think I won’t strike a woman?”

An Rui too was in tears. She knew Su Mu felt no pain but was still wounded in truth. Her heart ached, but she said nothing, knowing words would not undo Su Mu’s injuries and fearing further protest would only anger Zhou Chen more.

Supported by An Rui, Su Mu slowly stood. Though furious at Zhou Chen for injuring him without cause, his mind was still on the wager, which concerned An Rui’s safety—more important to him than anything. His own suffering was nothing.

Thinking of An Rui, Su Mu’s eyes reddened as he shouted at Zhou Chen, “Come, I’m ready!”

Zhou Chen laughed heartily. “Very well, let’s begin.” As he spoke, he placed his right hand behind his back and formed a sword seal with his left, his eyes flashing. A silver light shot from his sleeve—a small sword that circled Zhou Chen several times in a dazzling display.

Su Mu pushed aside An Rui, who still tried to support him, and, limping, shouted as he charged at Zhou Chen. He managed only one step before collapsing face-first onto the ground.

Seeing this, Zhou Chen laughed uproariously. Xiao Lan ground her teeth in anger, while An Rui’s heart burned with helplessness, her mind racing for a way out.

Su Mu, lying on the ground, looked at Zhou Chen, still seven or eight paces away, and decided to roll toward him. Zhou Chen pointed with his left hand, and the small sword zipped through the air to hover before Su Mu’s eyes as he flipped over. It was mere inches from his eyes—any sudden movement and he would be blinded.

Chilled to the core, Su Mu tried desperately to avoid the sword, but it seemed fixated on his face. No matter how he dodged, every time he turned his head, the sword was there, barring his way.

Anxious, Su Mu wondered what to do, when suddenly An Rui shouted, “He won’t hurt you within ten breaths!”

“That’s it, he’s just blocking me, not blinding me. How foolish I am,” Su Mu thought, elated at the realization, recalling Zhou Chen’s earlier promise. Steeling himself, he closed his eyes and walked toward Zhou Chen, ignoring the sword hovering before him.

Seeing Su Mu’s insight, Zhou Chen flicked his left hand and the sword flew back to him. Su Mu was now only three steps away, but Zhou Chen remained unhurried. “Quick on the uptake,” he remarked.

Extending his right hand from behind, he struck out with his palm, sending Su Mu flying in a rush of invisible force. Su Mu tumbled backward six or seven steps, dizzy and dazed, his blood painting a trail across the ground.

Biting his lip, Su Mu stood again, determinedly approaching Zhou Chen step by step. His bruises mattered little, but his injured foot prevented him from running.

Zhou Chen watched Su Mu’s battered figure with interest, secretly admiring his perseverance—so many wounds, yet he neither cried out nor faltered. Yet it irritated Zhou Chen. “Boy, ten breaths are nearly up. Are you ready to die?”

Su Mu pressed forward, ignoring him. Zhou Chen, annoyed by Su Mu’s silence, refrained from intervening, intending to strike him again once he drew near, and when time was up, to pierce his heart with a sword, ending his annoyance.

When Su Mu was three or four steps away, he stumbled and fell again. Zhou Chen, poised to strike, dropped his hand, calculating that by the time Su Mu got up, the ten breaths would be over. He formed the sword seal with his left hand, ready for Su Mu to rise.

Suddenly, a cloud of red powder flew from Su Mu’s hand. At such close range and with no warning, Zhou Chen cursed inwardly, blindly striking out with his right palm. Su Mu, having thrown the powder, rolled aside, narrowly avoiding Zhou Chen’s blow.

The powder covered Zhou Chen’s face, filling his eyes, nose, and mouth with a choking fragrance. Enraged, he roared, “I’ll kill you! I’ll tear you apart with my swords!”

Blind and furious, Zhou Chen formed sword seals with both hands. Several small swords shot from his sleeves, darting around him.

Su Mu rolled several times on the ground, reaching Zhou Chen’s feet. He stretched out his hand, reaching for Zhou Chen’s leg. Although Zhou Chen could not see, his ears picked up the sound at his feet, and he ordered his swords to stab downward.

Su Mu felt several swords pierce his body, blood instantly soaking his clothes. Unflinching, he ignored the swords, his eyes fixed only on Zhou Chen.

At last, his fingers brushed Zhou Chen’s leg. Zhou Chen seemed not to notice and struck out again, sending Su Mu flying several yards, his already blood-soaked body bleeding even more, as if he were a rag drenched in crimson.

“Stop! He’s touched you!” Xiao Lan, her heart pounding, saw Su Mu reach Zhou Chen and cried out.

Seeing Su Mu’s ruined body, riddled with sword wounds, she burst into tears, running to him.

An Rui reached Su Mu first, tears streaming as she gathered him into her arms, her cries anguished as a cuckoo’s call.

“Su Mu! Wake up! I don’t want you to die, don’t die!”

Su Mu, unable to feel pain, was not unconscious from agony, but his insides felt scrambled and he had no strength left. Summoning all his will, he managed a smile for An Rui.

“I didn’t let... let this villain bully you. I protected... you. I did it. I don’t... regret it. I... chose this. An Rui, come... come visit me often, help care... for my parents.”

An Rui sobbed, cursing, “I forbid you to die. I’ll face danger again, ten, a hundred, a thousand times. I need you to protect me. If you die, I’ll forget you, never think of you again.”

Zhou Chen, having cleared the powder from his eyes and nose, saw Su Mu and, mortified with rage, shouted,

“Damn beast! You dared trick me. I’ll tear you to pieces!” He raised his sword to strike.

An Rui, sobbing, glared at him and shouted, “Are you not afraid of breaking your word, of never advancing in your cultivation again? When your inner demon forms, you’ll regret what you’ve done!”

The flying sword, heading toward Su Mu, turned in midair and returned to Zhou Chen. He stared at An Rui, his face dark and uncertain.

“You’re not simple, girl. You know that those who cultivate spiritual energy fear inner demons most. Fine, the boy won’t live much longer, so I needn’t bother finishing him.”

By now, Su Mu was unconscious. Though his wounds were many, none were fatal. But the blood loss was so severe, his survival was unlikely.

An Rui held Su Mu, gently stroking his face, then turned and asked coldly, “According to the wager, will you let us leave?”

Zhou Chen sneered, “I always keep my word. You’re free to go.”

An Rui fixed her cold gaze on Zhou Chen and spoke slowly, “I will remember today. One day, we shall meet again.”

Zhou Chen laughed dismissively, then turned to watch Du Feiyang and Mu Zhenshan’s battle.

An Rui comforted the still-weeping Xiao Lan.

“Don’t cry, Xiao Lan. Let’s carry Su Mu and leave quickly. Perhaps my father can heal him.”

Xiao Lan wiped her eyes and agreed. “What about Uncle Mu?”

An Rui bit her lip, unwilling. “Uncle Mu should be able to handle himself. We must escape while he’s fighting Du Feiyang. Without him holding them off, we can’t get away.”

With no other choice, Xiao Lan helped An Rui lift Su Mu’s body, staggering toward the manor gate.

Zhou Chen walked to the edge of the battlefield, muttering as he watched Mu Zhenshan, “This useless fool, still hasn’t finished him off.”

He formed sword seals with both hands, his eyes glowing fiercely. From his sleeves, three or four dozen small swords flew out, weaving before and behind him like a school of fish in the sea.

Zhou Chen’s spiritual energy controlled each sword as if it were part of his own body. He extended his hands, sending the sword swarm charging toward Mu Zhenshan.