Killing intent rolled off the bandit in waves as he readied his mace. What was worse, his qi had somehow increased in potency. Thankfully, the foreign presence faded, leaving only a hint of red in his eyes. Had he been holding back all this time? No, He Yu told himself. If he had, the Peerless Judgment wouldn’t have reacted the way it had to the change. Something had happened to the bandit, and it had something to do with that faint presence he’d felt a moment ago.

Yan Shirong stepped from within his billowing cloak of shadow to appear next to He Yu. “Did you feel that, too?” he asked, making no effort to hide his concern.

“I did,” he answered. He wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about the fact that he’d not imagined it. If Yan Shirong had felt it, no doubt that Li Heng had as well.

“We need to be careful,” Li Heng said, appearing next to them in a flash of silver and confirming He Yu’s guess.

“Does anyone know what happened?”

Both shook their heads.

“Right,” He Yu said. “We can figure it out later. Let’s end this quickly.”

The grim set of both their features was all the agreement he needed.

The battle was rejoined. The three disciples’ qi flared as they activated techniques. Wind howled, shadows surged, and silver moonlight flashed. King Hao met them all. A meaty fist slammed into He Yu’s jaw, sending him sprawling. Li Heng ducked a swipe of the massive bronze mace but was forced to retreat by the follow-up attack. King Hao grabbed Yan Shirong by the throat and tossed him clear across the camp.

He Yu picked himself up and took a moment to observe. Something had changed about the bandit, but He Yu couldn’t quite place it. Yes, he was a Body Refining cultivator, and they would do well to remember that, but he hadn’t advanced. His qi still had that increased potency from earlier, but that could just be due to him no longer holding back. It had to do with his movements, but the exact nature of that difference remained unclear, even with the Peerless Judgment’s ability to see the truth of things.

A dozen of Yan Shirong’s shadows rose around King Hao, each holding a gleaming throwing knife. The bandit swept a number of them away, but there was only so much he could do against so many coming from such different angles. He Yu dashed forward on the winds, and opposite his target, Li Heng attacked as well.

King Hao activated his movement technique and appeared in front of He Yu. He grabbed He Yu’s guandao and spun, launching him at Li Heng. Yan Shirong caught him with his shadow tendrils, giving him enough time to bring the Sky Dragon’s Flight back under control. As he righted himself, he saw Li Heng and King Hao exchange a series of blows.

The bronze mace slammed into Li Heng’s sword. Silver qi flared along the blade’s length. Li Heng advanced, sweeping his jian in a broad cut. King Hao blocked the attack with the haft of his own weapon. Back and forth they went, exchanging blows faster than any mortal eye could follow. With each exchange, King Hao pressed Li Heng just that much harder.

“There’s something different about him,” Yan Shirong said as He Yu alighted next to him.

“You noticed it too?”

“I likely don’t have as good a sense of it as you do,” he said. The twinge of envy that He Yu had come to expect when Yan Shirong mentioned the arts Elder Cai had gifted him was absent. Instead, there was an unspoken question in its place.

“I can’t get much. There was that brief sensation of—something,” he said, struggling to remember what exactly the presence had been. He pushed down a spike of worry at that. It had been so strong when he’d felt it. Why couldn’t he describe it? Or even remember what it had been like?

“Well, that answers my question,” Yan Shirong said grimly. “At least I’m not the only one who’s having memory problems. I’d thought maybe that I’d knocked my head when that brute tossed me.”

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Somehow, that didn’t make He Yu feel any better. “We should be careful, in case it happens again,” he said.

Yan Shirong only nodded, and they both rejoined the fight.

During their brief exchange, Li Heng had lost any semblance of an advantage he’d once had. Although his sword shone, it seemed that it was once again weighing him down. The Peerless Judgment made the situation clear—despite his newfound confidence and understanding of the art, it was still too advanced for him to hold on to that much power.

Until he grew his cultivation base, he needed to quickly shift to the attack to maintain control of the Winter Moon Reflection when facing someone of significant power. Well, He Yu thought, it was a good thing he’d arrived just in time to provide Li Heng the opening he needed.

He Yu used his guandao to vault at King Hao’s back. The metallic shine of the Empyrean Ninefold Body Tempering encased him as he slammed feet-first into the bandit’s back. He caught himself on the winds, allowing his movement technique to carry him above the fray as King Hao stumbled forward. With the break in King Hao’s assault, Li Heng leveled his jian at the bandit.

Silver light streamed off the blade, accompanied by the distant roar of a winter’s gale. The lance of qi struck King Hao square in the chest. Again, the bandit roared, and He Yu braced himself for another wave of wrongness.

It never came. Instead, King Hao’s spirit, and iron-bound fortress, loomed large in He Yu’s spiritual sight. The central tower’s beacon flared to life, flames dancing and leaping dozens of feet into the air. He Yu brought his awareness back to the mortal world to see the head of the bandit’s mace begin to glow red as fire-aspected qi gathered around the weapon.

He Yu released his movement technique and let himself fall. He poured as much qi as he could manage at once into the Empyrean Ninefold Body Tempering and a formation of the Crashing Wind. Heaven qi sparked in the howling wind along his blade, as he slammed down on King Hao, aided by the inexorable grasp of the earth.

Blood spurted from where He Yu had struck, his blade digging into the meat between King Hao’s neck and shoulder on his weapon side. The bandit lashed out with a closed-fisted backhand. Under the effects of both his movement technique and his body art, He Yu was too fast. He kicked off of King Hao’s back, landing well out of reach.

King Hao spun to face him. “I’ll destroy everything you hold dear. I’ll take your mother and your sisters and I’ll—”

“I’m an only child and my mother is dead,” He Yu shot back.

“Just fucking die,” the bandit growled.

“Dogs should not bark at their betters,” Li Heng said.

Three lines of black tore across King Hao. As the wounds Li Heng had placed upon the world faded and King Hao roared in pain and fury, Li Heng’s sword reformed from icy mist. He Yu couldn’t help but be impressed. That was a technique straight out of legend as far as he was concerned.

King Hao spun again, sweeping out with the flaming head of his mace. Li Heng took the blow on his jian and countered immediately, scoring another crimson line across the bandit’s chest. Not about to allow King Hao any more chances to gain the upper hand, He Yu rushed in once more. Wind and heaven wreathed his guandao as he struck from behind. To his satisfaction, Yan Shirong emerged from the shadows and blasted the bandit with a spray of shadowy thorns.

“Cowards!” King Hao screamed, rage giving way to a hint of panic. “Face me like men!”

“Butchers like you deserve death, not honor,” He Yu heard himself say. The heat in his voice caught him by surprise. He knew he was still angry about the destruction and slaughter he’d seen, but he’d thought that it had gone to that same place everything else went when he was focused on a critical task in front of him. Apparently not.

He struck with all the force he could muster. The Five Crescent Winds churned along the length of his blade, and the Empyrean Ninefold Body Tempering lent his attack the sparking qi of heaven. His blade slammed into King Hao once again, rending his armor and sending a spray of blood into the afternoon sky.

Yan Shirong called forth yet more throwing knives. One after the other, he buried them in whatever exposed bits of flesh he could find. The utter contempt and disdain written on his features made He Yu glad that he’d gotten over his dislike of the comital scion. He didn’t need to contend with yet another grudge. He was sure that Yan Shirong would carry one for decades if given the chance.

A flash of silver struck the bandit as Li Heng appeared next to him. His blade came away from King Hao trailing glistening drops of red. “Suffer justice,” he said softly.

King Hao let out a wordless roar. He flailed about with his mace, but the attacks had become uncoordinated. He was clearly on his last legs, the fortress of his spirit was cracked and the walls had begun to crumble. The iron bands on the gates showed their age as spots of rust blossomed upon their once well-kept surface. Even the flame atop the fortress’s highest tower guttered as it burned low.

He Yu almost couldn’t believe it. They’d done it. King Hao’s qi was almost completely gone. His presence was crumbling before their very eyes. They had him surrounded on three sides. All they needed to do was—

King Hao threw his head back and roared to the sky. His guttering qi surged, and he screamed, “Empress, take me! Make use of this unworthy servant!” Red-tinged shadows rose from the ground, and the wrongness from earlier returned.

This time it was accompanied by an overwhelming sense of want that made He Yu’s blood run cold.