It was a quiet night, the moon looming high in the starless sky, the light of the lanterns below giving the only source of light in the empty streets of the town. The place was almost completely silent, except for the tapping footsteps of a single person clad in black walking the streets. I stood atop the roof of a house nearby, watching the figure stroll into the shopping district. I activated a concealing talisman and jumped down from the roof, maneuvering through alleys and left-out stalls as I followed them. Like the sound of their footsteps, time had ticked by as I came closer, but the closer I got, the more uneasy I felt.
I never liked the feeling of demonic energy; it's always so unnerving. It seems I'll never understand demonic cultivators.
I stopped in an alley, getting a good look at my target.
Dressed in black robes, their back turned to me with two swords on either side of their waist and long black hair tied into a ponytail with a red ribbon. As we entered an open area, I slowly unsheathed my sword, creeping up from behind as I imbued the blade with my qi. I sucked in a deep breath before dashing forward, stopping myself a few inches away as I swung my sword in one motion. The blade cut through the air until a loud clang echoed; instead of my target's neck, my sword met with another. My eyes narrowed as I quickly stepped back from an incoming slash. I jumped back a few more feet, taking my stance as my opponent brandished their second sword, the ghost mask they wore meeting my gaze.
I watched the concealing talisman burn away in my other hand, the effects having reached their limits and now fading away. And here I hoped to end this swiftly.
Giving them no time to adjust, I dashed forward again, dishing out blow after blow, and each time I swung my sword, it was met with what felt like an unbreakable wall. Nevertheless, I continued my assault, every swift attack coming one after the other in quick succession. Yet my opponent did not falter, managing to push me back with relentless parries.
And then, with the block of one sword and an attack from the other, my opponent's blade was embedded into my shoulder, using it to throw me into a pile of crates. I felt the stinging pain prickling on my back; despite that, I struggled to get up, only to feel an unbearable gnawing agony like small man-eating worms were drilling into my left shoulder as numbness burrowed through my arm.
Poison.
Sucking in another breath, I grit my teeth as I propped myself up with my sword with my good arm. But the moment I looked ahead, I found a dagger flying straight towards me. I pushed myself to the side, narrowly avoiding it as it grazed past my injured shoulder. Steadying myself once more, pushing the gnawing pain to the back of my mind, I gripped the hilt of my sword, brandishing it once more.
I looked back at the masked cultivator, only to see one of their swords coming down on me.
Crap!
I staggered away, the blade missing by a hair, as I blocked the second attack, locking our swords. The demonic cultivator turned their head to me, my glare coming face to face with a stark white mask with the character for three on the forehead. I jumped back, putting some distance between us as I circulated qi throughout my body. Feeling some of the pain leaving, I guided spiritual energy into my sword and dashed forward. A clang echoed, blade against blade. A smile crept on my face as I watched my blade glow a bright yellow to red before it ignited into roaring flames. I pressed down, the ignited blade starting to cut through my opponent's sword. The cultivator jumped back, their sword beginning to melt on contact. They dashed back, staring at their now-destroyed sword before tossing it aside.
My smile widened, and I came at them, swinging my flaming sword in quick succession. Seeing them weave through my attacks, I upped the speed little by little, the pain in my shoulder becoming a distant memory. I continued my assault until I grazed the mask on the demonic cultivator, the mask falling off their face as it burned to ashes. The cultivator lunged towards the burning mask, but it had already crumpled into a pile of ash.
And for a moment, they just stared at the ashes on the ground before turning back to me. That was when I felt it, an overwhelming pressure with the unmistakable malice of demonic qi. Immediately, my body tensed up, my heart quickening in an involuntary fear.
And in that instant, three daggers flew at me. I deflected the first two, the third one embedding itself into my wounded shoulder. Not a second later, they came at me in swift, heavy blows. I jumped back, my body riddled with various gashes and wounds. Pulling the dagger out of my shoulder, I throw it back at them, but they easily deflect it and continue their assault.
The clang of metal sounds through the empty streets, again and again, my blood splattered on the ground as I stood off against a demonic cultivator in black robes, ink-colored hair tied in a ponytail with a red ribbon, and a face I could only describe as beautiful, for a man.
I stare in a daze for a moment, the feeling of pain snapping me back. I eyed the storage bag at my waist.
Buy time, just buy time.
I gripped my sword, my hands shaking in exhaustion as I met the pitch-black eyes of the demonic cultivator before me. I let out a shaky breath before lunging forward with a downward swing. He sidestepped, delivering a kick to my stomach. But, just when the kick landed, I let go of my sword, sending a whisp of spiritual energy through the blade. It soared through the air, only missing by inches near his cheek before I tumbled to the ground. I staggered up, holding my stomach as I tasted the taste of iron at the back of my throat. I reached for my storage bag and took out a signaling talisman. I looked ahead to find the cultivator gone before he appeared before me, sending another kick to the stomach. I stumbled back another few feet, coughing out the blood that was in my throat.
He walked towards me, stopping before me.
"You should have ran when I gave you the chance."
I clenched the talisman in my hand and activated it, the paper in my palm burning into a ball of fire. The flame shot up into the sky, the cultivator simply leaning back a bit as the flame passed by his face, his cold eyes never leaving me. I watched the signal rocket into the sky and explode into an expanse of azure blue sparks that lit the black sky. With that, a small bloom of hope grew in my heart.
Buy time, just buy time.
The words sounded in my head like a mantra. With newfound strength, I clenched my fist, qi flowing through my arm, and a fiery ball materialized in my hand. I threw it at the cultivator's face and used the time to roll away from him.
I frantically scanned the area, spotting my sword a few meters away. I glanced back at the man closer to me before sprinting toward my fallen blade with a burst of spiritual power.
Just as my sword was within reach, I was slammed down by a black boot to the solid ground, making a small crater in the stone. As my chest hit the ground, I spat out a mouthful of blood, hearing the cracking of ribs ringing in my ears. My hand limply lay just inches away from the hilt of my sword.
Damn it.
I struggled to get up, my hand stretching out for the sword for a last-ditch effort. But I was stomped back to the ground, and a dagger stabbed into my palm. I clenched my teeth to keep the groan in my throat from escaping, my eyes still on the sword's hilt. Prickling pain spreading throughout my body as I continued struggling against the person on top of me.
Then, a beaten blade of a sword was pressed against my neck, my reflection shining through the metal as blood seeped through the cut it made. I stared at the reflection, glossy hazel eyes staring back at me. My eye twitched at the sight, glaring at the tears that threatened to fall. How humiliatingly pathetic. Me, Wang Àiyù, the genius disciple of Elder Yang of the Boshài sect, being beaten to the extend of almost crying. Pathetic, so pathetic.
My eyes followed the blade upwards to the hilt of the blade, to the hand holding it, to the emotionless face that loomed over me. I flinched at the seething pain blooming in my injuries. The poison must be acting up again. How lucky.
The cultivator lifted the sword, adjusting his hold to have the edge a few inches away from my neck. Raising it, we met eyes before a monotone voice sounded, "Die."