CHAPTER 45

Relentless Attacker

LUO FAN

I paused in the middle of the dirt path, staring up at the steep hill that loomed before us. To gather the vital herbs needed for the medicine, we had no choice but to climb it, though the scorching midday sun made the task far more grueling than it should have been.

Turning back, I saw Jinjing approaching slowly, her steps hesitant. At first, I thought she was simply tired, but as I looked closer, I noticed something else—her distant expression, as if her mind was lost elsewhere.

This was unlike her. The Jinjing I knew was vibrant and full of life.

With a sigh, I approached her. She did not even notice me until she nearly walked into me, and I had to steady her by her shoulders. Finally, she looked up, startled.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

For a moment, she didn’t respond. “Y-yes,” she stammered.

I frowned. She had been acting strangely since yesterday, ever since she’d received a letter from her family. When I asked about it, she claimed she wasn’t feeling well.

I did not believe her, of course.

“Let me see the letter you received yesterday,” I said firmly. My tone reminded me of Ruan Yanjun’s commanding demeanor, but Jinjing was my betrothed, soon to be my wife. I had a right to know what was troubling her. I did not see it as crossing the line.

She stared at me and did not answer.

“Where is it?” I asked again.

She hesitated, avoiding my gaze. “I… left it at home,” she finally said.

I compressed my lips into a thin line, recognizing the lie but choosing not to push her further. “Do you want to rest?”

She nodded, and I led her to the shade of a large tree.

As we ate our simple lunch, Jinjing remained uncharacteristically quiet.

“Jinjing,” I began, breaking the silence. “We’re about to get married, yet you’re keeping things from me.”

Her eyes widened slightly, but she shook her head. “I’m not hiding anything. It’s just so hot—it’s draining me.”

“Is that the truth?”

“Of course.” She forced a smile and leaned closer to me. “You’re overthinking.” She picked up a piece of dumpling and stuffed it into my mouth. “Now stop worrying and eat.”

I smiled despite myself and chewed. For a moment, it seemed like she was back to her usual self, but I wasn’t fooled. Whatever burden she carried, it wasn’t something she was ready to share, so I decided to wait.

*****

Our journey had been another success. Within hours of arriving in the village, we’d sold out every last batch of medicine.

As we made our way home, descending a rugged hill, my heightened senses prickled with unease. A faint presence lingered in the distance, shadowing our steps. The sensation of being watched clung to me, impossible to shake.

I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to see a familiar figure in the shadows—perhaps one of Ruan Yanjun’s disciples, sent to keep an eye on me, a silent reminder of the devil’s lingering interest.

Jinjing noticed my unease and her grip on my arm tightened. She whispered, “Fan, what’s wrong?”

“Someone’s following us,” I replied, keeping my voice low.

Her eyes widened, but she remained calm. We had encountered trouble before, and she knew better than to panic. She looked around, searching for the source of the disturbance in the air, but she couldn’t see what I could feel.

Suddenly, a young man emerged from the shadows, blocking our path. He wore a mask that covered the upper half of his face, revealing only piercing, dark eyes that gleamed with malicious intent.

Without a second thought, I stepped forward, placing myself protectively in front of Jinjing. She had retreated behind a large oak tree, her eyes wide with terror as she watched the unfolding scene.

The man's presence was palpable, and the way he held himself suggested that he was a cultivator. The air around him vibrated with a sinister aura that sent chills down my spine.

The young man unsheathed his sword, the blade glinting menacingly in the sunlight. The familiarity of his stance, the way he held the weapon with such ease—it was as if he was a mirror image of someone I knew. A chilling suspicion began to take root in my mind.

Could this man be Bai Li, the man who had claimed to be an informal teacher to Chang Tao?

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My first meeting with Bai Li in the market had probably been a coincidence, but now I was certain that he had come to Xianru for a purpose, and that was to hunt me down.

He was a third level, which was odd. The Crown Prince of Kan, or whoever had ordered this man, had probably figured out that Ruan Yanjun had retracted his protection over me so they were confident that a level three was enough to eliminate me.

The man charged toward me.

His blade was swift, slicing through the air with deadly precision.

Despite his speed, I managed to dodge and parry each strike with surprising agility. Years of martial arts cultivation had honed my senses and reflexes to a razor's edge, allowing me to anticipate his moves before he even made them.

Yet, with each block, I felt my strength waning. My breath came in ragged gasps, and the sickness that had plagued me for so long sapped my energy. Sweat dripped down my face, and my arms trembled under the strain.

The weight of the stick grew heavier with every clang against the sword, my once confident swings now a tad slower.

When I felt I could no longer hold out, I unleashed a move I had sworn never to use again, a technique that had once taken a life. Channeling the last reserves of my energy, I thrust my stick forward, striking the masked man with a force that sent him stumbling back.

I didn’t wait for him to recover. I grabbed Jinjing’s hand and pulled her into the dense forest. “Let’s run!”

We sprinted through the underbrush, each step a desperate push against the uneven terrain. Branches lashed at our faces, the dense forest clawing at us as though trying to drag us back. But we couldn’t stop—not with danger so close behind.

As we emerged from the woods into the clearing, the cool air kissed my sweat-drenched skin. The silence was eerie. I couldn’t tell if the masked man had given up or was lying in wait.

My vision wavered, the edges darkening as exhaustion clawed at me. My legs trembled, no longer able to support my weight. The ground swayed beneath me, and I collapsed to my knees, gasping for air as the world blurred around me.

The sharp, metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, hot and cloying. A cough tore through me, splattering crimson onto the grass below. My body had reached its limit.

"Fan!" Jinjing's voice cut through the haze, her grip firm and trembling on my arm. Her eyes were wide with alarm as she crouched beside me, using her sleeve to wipe the blood from my mouth. "What’s happening to you?"

Her touch and her words felt distant, drowned out by the pounding in my ears. A crushing realization settled over me like a storm cloud. The Molun elixir, which had been my shield against the White Vulture's destructive path, had run its course. I was once again vulnerable to the very same poison that had ravaged my body and taken my sight.

A shiver coursed through me, a dread colder than the night air. The poison hadn’t just returned—it had reclaimed its hold, a grim reminder of my vulnerability and mortality.

Jinjing, her face etched with worry, slipped my arm around her shoulders, steadying me as we trudged forward. She kept glancing nervously over her shoulder, her fear palpable. She was right to worry.

The masked man’s footsteps soon thundered through the forest, each one like the drumbeat of impending doom. When he emerged from the shadows, his fury was a tangible force, his eyes blazing with a hatred so intense it seemed to illuminate the darkness. Without a word, he raised his sword, its gleaming blade catching the skylight like a sliver of silver death, and charged.

A surge of desperate resolve coursed through me. I pushed Jinjing away, my heart fracturing at the thought of leaving her vulnerable. But I couldn’t let her share my fate. “Run!” I shouted, the word tearing from my throat.

He was on me in a flash. I raised my bamboo stick to block the blow, the fragile wood shattering under the brutal force of his attack. The impact reverberated through me, sharp pain shooting up my arms, but I gritted my teeth and stood firm. I wouldn’t let him touch her—not while I still had breath in my body.

In the fleeting moment bought by the shattered remains of my bamboo stick, a figure emerged from the shadows, moving with the grace and precision of a seasoned warrior. A fourth-level cultivator stepped into the fray, his hawk-like eyes locking onto our assailant with unyielding focus. His stance radiated mastery, each movement honed by years of relentless training.

Without hesitation, he engaged the masked man. Their swords clashed in a crescendo of steel, each strike a symphony of life and death. The ringing of metal on metal echoed through the night, the clearing transformed into a battleground. Their movements were a blur, a deadly dance of power and precision beyond the comprehension of ordinary eyes.

The masked man faltered, surprise flashing in his eyes at the unexpected challenge. His strikes turned frantic, his earlier confidence eroded by the relentless skill of his opponent. The cultivator’s measured counterattacks forced him onto the defensive, his steps growing more erratic as he struggled to regain control.

Sensing the tide turning against him, the masked man abruptly disengaged. With one last glare in our direction, he retreated into the forest, his figure swallowed by the shadows. The sound of his footsteps faded into the distance, leaving behind an uneasy silence.

Relief washed over me, though it was tempered by a lingering dread. He was gone for now, but I knew this wasn’t the end.

The young man who had come to our aid sheathed his sword and hurried toward us, his face etched with concern. "Priest Luo, are you injured?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of urgency.

I nodded weakly, gripping the broken bamboo stick as if it could steady me. "I'm... fine," I replied, though the strain in my voice betrayed the lie. The pain and exhaustion from the encounter still coursed through me.

I recognized the young man that I met in my uncle’s hideout, the one I had initially mistook for the real Wei Xiaoli.

“Xiong Juan,” I said, my voice soft but steady. “You’ve come all this way?”

He inclined his head, his expression briefly brightening. “Leader Luo learned about your falling out with Lord Ruan and sent me to keep an eye on you. I’ve been shadowing you for several days now, but I lost track of you earlier when you went through the woods. My apologies for arriving late.”

So it was my uncle, Luo Boqin, who sent this man.

I offered a faint smile. “Better late than never. You saved our lives. Thank you.” Turning to Jinjing, I introduced her. “This is my fiancée, Jinjing.” Then, gesturing back to him, I added, “Jinjing, this is Xiong Juan, my cousin.”

The two exchanged polite greetings. Despite her lack of formal education, Jinjing carried herself with a natural grace that never failed to impress me.

Xiong Juan’s lips curved into a teasing grin as he glanced between us. “So, she’s the reason you left Sindu in such a hurry?”

I chuckled softly, nodding. “You could say that.”

Jinjing nudged me playfully, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks, while Xiong Juan let out a hearty laugh.

After a moment, his tone turned serious again. “Priest Luo,” he said, glancing at the darkening sky. “Let me escort you both home. The sun will set soon, and it’s not safe to linger here.”

That night, anxiety gnawed at me like an unrelenting shadow. Ruan Yanjun’s words played on a loop in my mind, each repetition cutting deeper. As much as I hated to admit it, there was truth in his claim—without his protection, I was ill-equipped to survive in this unforgiving world.

If I couldn’t even defend myself, how could I ever hope to protect my wife?

The weight of my illness only worsened my sense of helplessness. Each day, my body grew weaker, the signs of my affliction more apparent. The future felt like a distant, crumbling horizon.

Jinjing, too, seemed unsettled. Her restlessness lingered in her every movement, though she refused to share her thoughts. It left me wondering if she had begun to see the harsh reality of our situation. Did she regret her decision to stay with me? Perhaps she’d realized that being by my side meant constant danger, a far cry from the peaceful life she surely deserved.

The thought clawed at me—what if she’d changed her mind about our engagement but didn’t know how to tell me?