King Hao hefted his mace once more, readying another attack. He was several dozen yards away still, but he’d already demonstrated that his movement technique could easily cover the distance. He Yu pushed himself to his feet and readied his guandao. To his relief, he saw that Li Heng had regained his balance with the time He Yu had bought him, but he still seemed to be struggling with his jian.
Shadows rose from the grass at King Hao’s feet and wrapped around the arm holding the mace. “Miscreant,” Yan Shirong sniffed. “Suffer justice.” Spreading his arms, an array of daggers appeared in an arc over his head. They shot toward King Hao, each one trailing shadow qi in its wake.
He Yu wasn’t about to waste the opportunity. He surged forward once again with the aid of his movement technique, wind qi churning down the length of his guandao. From the corner of his eye, he caught Li Heng struggling to bring his jian up and level the point at King Hao.
The Ox King ripped his arm free of Yan Shirong’s shadow bindings. He swept the daggers away with his mace like so many gnats. Without even bothering to look, he landed a punch square in the center of He Yu’s chest. Once more He Yu found himself sailing away from the bandit king, this time with several broken ribs for his trouble.
Then, the world went white. A gleaming torrent of qi erupted from Li Heng’s jian. The temperature noticeably dropped as the ice and moon aspects of the technique briefly overwhelmed the more balanced ambient qi of the area. The noble had to bring his off hand up to grip his sword’s hilt, and even then he barely seemed in control.
For an instant, King Hao was engulfed by the silver light streaming from Li Heng’s ancestral jian. Then, shadows surged out from the bandit king. For an instant, He Yu thought Yan Shirong had joined in the attack with a technique of his own. The shadows swallowed Li Heng’s sword light, and once the noble’s attack finally died, He Yu could see the umbra surrounding King Hao was tinged a deep red.
The shadows around King Hao faded. It seemed the heavens had at least granted them some small favor, as the bandit leader hadn’t escaped wholly unscathed. His lamellar coat was cracked, and in several places completely blasted away. His eyes blazed with fury, and flickers of the same deep red light that had tinged the shadow danced deep within them.
“I won’t let you be doing that again,” King Hao rumbled.
The bandit king unleashed his spirit. Whatever hints of shadow—and whatever that red light had been—now completely vanished. He Yu felt the impression of a fortress wrought of earth and metal, with gates of bronze and a brilliant fire blazing atop the bastion’s highest tower.
King Hao’s spirit was hovering somewhere around the border of the low and middle stages of the Third Realm, but for whatever reason the Cloud Emperor’s Peerless Judgment couldn’t quite pinpoint his advancement. He was comparatively weaker than Xiao Jun, however. It wasn’t much, but if that was all the heavens would give them, He Yu would gladly take it.
That relief turned out to be short-lived, however. An oddly familiar sensation, unlike any aspect of qi He Yu had ever felt, settled over them all. It was cold, sharp, and incredibly dangerous. An instant later, he remembered where he’d felt it before. Tan Xiaoling. His mouth went dry as he realized what the sensation was—killing intent. More honed than any he’d felt before.
Yan Shirong appeared next to He Yu, hauling a mostly useless Li Heng with him. “We can’t fight him,” he said. In the face of King Hao’s fully released spirit, now layered with a refined killing intent, He Yu couldn’t help but agree.
As he turned to run, He Yu popped a medicinal pill into his mouth. From the corner of his eye, he saw Li Heng, still supported by Yan Shirong, do the same.
King Hao howled with laughter from behind them. “A chase then!” he shouted. “Hunt these pups! Show the disciples of the Shrouded Peaks Sect what happens when you cross King Hao!”
An excited cry went up from King Hao’s men as they set to pursuit. The bandits quickly spread out, with the First Realms among them falling further and further behind the Second Realms. King Hao stayed at their head, clearly more interested in the chase than the fight at this point.
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He Yu silently thanked Senior Brother Ren for countless runs around the outer sect mountain. With the physical conditioning of Ren Huang’s lessons combined with his greater advancement, he could keep ahead of the pack of bandits without tiring. More importantly, he could do so without really expending any qi, giving the pill he’d taken the opportunity to work to the fullest.
By now, Li Heng was moving under his own power. “We need to lose them quickly,” he said.
“Do you have a plan?” Yan Shirong asked. Of the three of them, he seemed to be under the most strain from the run. Something that He Yu would have allowed himself to feel proud of, under other circumstances.
“The White Hare Dance isn’t good for much other than short distances.”
“My movement technique isn’t either,” He Yu said. While the Sky Dragon’s Flight was excellent for a charge with his guandao raised and ready to strike, he couldn’t maintain it for long. From what he’d gathered from studying his art manual, it would only ever be decent for long-distance travel at best—even when he gained true flight with the technique.
“Same here,” Yan Shirong said.
That put them in a bind. While they all cultivated the White Mountain Body Art to some degree, neither of the foundational techniques for the art were suitable for their current situation. The Eternal Mountain Root—the art’s basic enforcement technique—could be used to extend their strength and endurance for a time, but it would drain them quickly if they tried to maintain it for an extended run.
With no answer immediately obvious, they fell into a grim silence as they continued to run. If there was any bright spot in their predicament, it was that Li Heng’s guess about the bandits’ cultivation seemed correct. By now even the Second Realm bandits were steadily falling behind. King Hao still kept easy pace with them, but he seemed not to want to abandon his men either. He kept the three disciples in sight, but his attempts to do the same for his men meant that he was falling further behind as well, albeit less quickly than the bandits.
Of course, he wouldn’t let the three of them forget that he could catch them whenever he wanted. Whenever it seemed that they just might have lost him, King Hao would surge forward, laugh, and take a swipe at one of them with his mace. They would have to activate a movement technique to avoid the strike. That would just prompt another laugh, followed by King Hao falling back to make sure his men kept up once more.
For the remainder of the day, the bandits chased them through the wilds. As the sun grew ever lower, He Yu could keenly feel the strain of their flight on his meridians and his dwindling qi reserves. Yan Shirong looked like the only thing keeping him going was the certainty that to stop would mean death. He Yu couldn’t say he felt much better, and even Li Heng looked to be on his last legs.
If there ever was a chance for them to stand and fight, it had long since passed. Now, any hope they had left lay solely in them losing King Hao and his men. Something they hadn’t managed to do after a full day of running.
As the afternoon sun dipped low and the light grew golden, the three of them emerged from the forest onto the shores of a lake. A modest hut squatted a few dozen yards away from the shore, and an old man sat out front tending a pot over a cook fire. With a peaceful expression, he looked up at the three disciples as they emerged from the woods.
Li Heng cupped a fist and bowed. “Honored Elder,” he said, “there is a group of vile men a short distance behind us. They are beyond our ability to deal with, and we cannot offer you any protection should they seek to harm you. Please, hide or flee. This one could not live with himself if you came to harm.”
While a part of He Yu chafed at the fact they’d stopped for some random old man living in the woods by himself, it was the right thing to do. Cultivators were supposed to be protectors of the weak. Failing that, shouldn’t they at least try and ensure the man didn’t come to harm?
The old man seemed to be completely oblivious to Li Heng’s words. He simply continued to stir his cook pot. When the three of them made to leave, he spoke. “Sit. My soup is nearly ready, and there’s enough to share.”
“Elder,” Yan Shirong said, “all of our lives are in danger.”
The old man tutted. “So impatient. Sit, I have soup.”
With a sigh, He Yu went over to the man and sat next to him. Li Heng and Yan Shirong stared in disbelief. “I for one would like a meal before I die,” he said. “I can’t run anymore, and neither can you.”
A wordless look passed between his two companions, but they joined him nonetheless. They were just as spent as he was, and already they could hear King Hao’s shouts growing closer. The old man remained silent as he tended to his cook pot. Given the sounds of pursuit growing ever closer, He Yu wasn’t confident he’d get his meal after all. Still, he was tired from running all day. Continuing to do so only delayed the inevitable, anyway.
King Hao burst from the tree line along with several of his more advanced men. The bandits looked just as exhausted as He Yu felt, but King Hao seemed to still be in high spirits.
“What’s this?” he boomed. “The chase is over already? No matter. Now it’s time to learn what it means to face King Hao!”
“Is this barking dog the one who chased you here?” the old man asked.
King Hao’s face darkened. “Watch your tongue, old man. I’ll rip it from your head if you don’t.”
The old man’s white eyebrows rose as he looked up to King Hao. “Treat your elders with more respect, whelp.”
With that, the old man stood and released his spirit.