CHAPTER 39

THE DISCIPLE RETURNS

Mark urged the horse forward, its hooves pounding through the snow as they galloped at full speed. Triska clung tightly to his waist, her breath warm against his back. The snowy plains stretched endlessly, but up ahead, a small village came into view. Thin trails of smoke curled from chimneys atop thatched roofs.

As they drew closer, a middle-aged farmer spotted them and froze in place for a heartbeat before screaming in sheer terror. Without looking back, he turned and bolted toward the village.

“What the fuck?” Mark muttered, spurring the horse faster. Within moments, they overtook the fleeing man, cutting him off.

“Hey!” Mark barked, pulling the reins to slow the horse. The man kept running, his arms flailing. “Why the fuck are you afraid of us?”

“Bandits!” the man gasped, his face pale and drenched in sweat.

Mark rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “I ain’t a fucking bandit, you idiot.”

The man stopped abruptly, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “Oh,” he panted, “why didn’t you say so sooner?”

Triska raised an eyebrow. “Maybe because you were too busy screaming and running?”

The man straightened. “Sorry. We’ve been on edge. A gang of bandits has been harassing our village for months. We usually give them whatever they demand, but two days ago… we told them to fuck off and killed their messenger.”

Mark whistled low. “Ballsy. So, what’s the plan when they come back pissed off?”

The man glanced around nervously. “There’s this swordswoman. She showed up about a week ago, and she’s the reason we stood up to them. Said she’d defend the village for free.”

“A swordswoman, huh?”

“Yeah,” the man said, nodding eagerly. “A real badass. She gave us a demonstration with her blade—quick as lightning, strong as an ox. She’s staying at the inn.”

Mark exchanged a look with Triska, who shrugged. “Alright,” Mark said, swinging down from the horse. “Lead the way. I want to meet this swordswoman.”

The man nodded and started toward the village, glancing nervously over his shoulder at them as if still half-expecting trouble. He led Mark and Triska to a larger building near the heart of the village, its wooden sign creaking in the wind. Mark figured it had to be the inn. The man pushed open the door, motioning for them to enter. As soon as they stepped inside, Mark froze.

There she was. Guanyu.

Before he could say a word, Guanyu’s face lit up with shock and joy. She rushed toward him and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. “Mark!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Mark returned the embrace, though he was still stunned. “Lady Guanyu,” he said, pulling back just enough to look at her. “What in the hell are you doing here?”

Guanyu stepped back. “After you left the manor, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was tired of being forbidden to practice swordsmanship, tired of being treated like some fragile flower in the Imperial Court. I was nothing but a canary in a gilded cage. I wanted more. I wanted freedom, my own destiny. So, I left. I escaped the manor and became a wandering swordswoman, putting to use everything you taught me. I crossed the border into Archon Vlad’s lands so my father couldn’t drag me back.”

Mark sighed, shaking his head. “My Lady, you know I always believed in your talent. You were born for the sword, but you’re still inexperienced. Wandering alone, dealing with dangerous men like bandits—”

Guanyu raised her hand, cutting him off. Her voice was sharp now, her eyes fierce. “You never treated me like some helpless damsel during training, so why start now? What’s changed, Mark?”

“Training you like an equal is one thing. Letting you face a gang of murderous bandits alone when you’re still finding your footing is something else entirely.”

“Why do you always have to act like this? I thought you’d be proud of me!”

“I am proud of you. But I also care about you—more than you know. And that’s why I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Guanyu sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping. “You sound just like my father.”

Mark exhaled sharply, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine. I won’t stand in your way. You’re an adult, and it’s your life to live. But at least let Triska and me help you with these bandits. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Guanyu’s eyes darted to Triska, who was watching the exchange with a smirk. “Who’s she?” Guanyu asked.

Triska stepped forward, casually brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m a witch,” she said with a playful grin. “Terrifying, I know. Try not to faint.”

Guanyu huffed but nodded. “Fine. I suppose you both could be useful.” She turned to the owner of the inn. “Bring food and beer for my guests. I’ll cover it.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” Mark said, bowing his head slightly.

The three of them settled at a sturdy wooden table as bowls of steaming hot soup and mugs of frothy beer were placed before them. Between sips of her drink, Guanyu launched into the full story of her escape from the manor—how she slipped past the guards under cover of night, how she wandered the lands, and how she had already tested her swordsmanship against thieves and scoundrels along the way.

Mark listened intently. Triska, meanwhile, leaned back in her chair, sipping her beer with an amused smile.

“So,” Guanyu said, finishing her story with a triumphant smile, “are you convinced now that I’m not some fragile flower?”

Mark smirked. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But let’s see how you handle yourself when the bandits come knocking.”

“You should rest after the journey,” Guanyu said. “It’s late, and I need you sharp when the bandits come. I’ll be doing the same. Goodnight, Mark. It was nice seeing you again.”

She stood, a little unsteady from the beers, and made her way to her room. Mark watched her go, then tossed a few coins to the innkeeper, who led him and Triska to their room. Once inside, Mark closed the door and slowly began removing his chainmail, the clinking metal breaking the quiet.

“So,” Triska said with a sly smile, leaning against the wall. “That’s the woman you were talking about, huh? The one you fell for, but her father got in the way. Cute story.”

Mark chuckled as he set the armor down. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of her?”

Triska shrugged. “A little,” she admitted. “You said you felt something between us, but that was when you thought Guanyu was out of reach. Now? Her father’s not here to stop you. And judging by the way she looked at you, she wouldn’t mind warming your bed tonight.”

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“True,” Mark said with a smirk. “But I want you, not her.”

“What changed?” Triska asked, tilting her head. “Didn’t you say you had feelings for her?”

“I did. Just like you had feelings for Sokolov. If he came back and declared his love, would you run to him?”

Triska hesitated, then shook her head firmly.

“Exactly. It was something from the past. I’ll always care about Guanyu, but what I feel for you is different. It’s real.”

Triska’s smile turned mischievous. “Then prove it.”

Mark didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, wrapped her in his arms, and kissed her deeply, passionately. When he finally pulled back, he grinned. “Is that proof enough?”

“Not even close,” Triska teased, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. She leaned in, licking his earlobe and murmuring, “I want you to fuck me.”

That was all Mark needed. He swept her off her feet and tossed her onto the bed, their laughter breaking the tension. Clothes hit the floor in a flurry, and Mark climbed on top of her. They moved together with raw energy, the old bed groaning beneath them as Triska’s cries of pleasure filled the room.

After two rounds of intense lovemaking, they lay tangled together on the bed, Triska cuddled against Mark’s chest. Exhausted, Mark drifted off to sleep.

Before dawn, Mark woke quietly. The faint glow of morning peeked through the shutters. Careful not to disturb Triska, who was still curled against him, he slipped out of bed, dressed, and headed downstairs.

In the common room, he found Guanyu already awake, sipping a mug of beer. Her eyes met his as he approached, and he could tell something was off.

“Hey,” he greeted her. “What are you doing up so early?”

Guanyu glared at him, her cheeks flushed, whether from alcohol or anger, he wasn’t sure. “You slept with her, didn’t you?” Mark opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “Don’t bother denying it. I heard her. Hell, everyone heard her. What a screamer! Or maybe you’re just that good.”

Mark scratched the back of his neck, his face flushing. “I—”

“You know we had something,” Guanyu interrupted, her voice wavering.

Mark sighed. “We did, yeah. And if things had gone differently back when I was at your father’s manor, maybe we’d be together now. But life didn’t work out that way. I’ve accepted it, and you should too. Guanyu, you’re amazing, and you can do so much better than me.”

Guanyu stood abruptly and leaned in, pressing her lips to his in a desperate kiss. For a moment, Mark responded instinctively, but then he gently pushed her back.

“No,” he said firmly. “That’s not right. And you’ve had too much to drink.”

“Why her and not me?” Guanyu asked, her voice breaking.

Mark’s expression softened. “I don’t know. The heart wants what it wants. I never meant to hurt you, and I still care about you—a lot. But it’s different now. You’ll always be special to me, but as my disciple, not as my lover.”

Guanyu blinked back tears, then sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry for acting like this. I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t apologize,” Mark said, his voice gentle as he reached out to caress her cheek. “Just get some rest. You need to be ready when the bandits show up.”

Guanyu nodded, her shoulders relaxing. “Thank you, Mark.”

Suddenly, a farmer burst into the inn, his eyes wide with terror. “Bandits!” he shouted, his voice cracking. His face was pale as a ghost, and Mark smirked, thinking the poor guy might keel over from fright. “Bandits!” the man screamed again, louder this time.

Mark turned to Guanyu. “Gear up. Time to see if you’re ready to be a real swordswoman.”

He sprinted upstairs. Triska was already awake, pulling her gown over her shoulders. Mark froze for a moment, his gaze drawn to her generous breasts.

“You can stare all you want after we deal with the bandits,” Triska teased, fastening her belt.

Mark chuckled. “I’ll hold you to that.” He quickly strapped on his chainmail, Triska helping him tighten the straps. With his sword in hand, he headed back down.

The three of them—Mark, Triska, and Guanyu—rushed to the village outskirts, where a gang of bandits roared and charged through the snow, brandishing swords and axes. Clad in fur and reeking of sweat, they rushed forward like wild animals.

Mark didn’t hesitate. He launched himself at the nearest attacker. The bandit swung his blade in a wide arc, aiming for Mark’s head, but Mark ducked and drove his sword straight into the man’s chest. The bandit let out a guttural scream as blood sprayed onto the snow. Mark yanked the blade free just in time to deflect an oncoming axe. The clash of metal rang out as the bandit swung again, only for Mark to sidestep and knee him hard in the groin. As the man doubled over in pain, Mark slashed his throat, and he crumpled to the ground, blood pooling around him.

Another bandit rushed at Mark, their swords clashing in a blur of strikes and parries. Mark pressed forward with relentless blows, forcing the man back. With a quick twist of his blade, he severed both of the bandit’s hands at the wrists. The severed hands hit the ground, still gripping the sword. Mark delivered a swift kick to the man’s chest, sending him sprawling as he screamed in agony.

An axe-wielding bandit charged next. Mark scooped up a handful of snow and flung it into the man’s face. Blinded, the bandit stumbled just as Mark lunged, driving his sword deep into his stomach. Another attacker came at him, and Mark dodged the first slash, countering with a low strike that took the bandit’s legs clean off. The man hit the ground with a blood-curdling wail.

Nearby, Guanyu faced her own fight. A bandit rained blows down on her, but she blocked them one by one, though her movements grew slower under the pressure. When she saw an opening, she kicked the man’s shin, forcing him to retreat with a cry of pain. Seizing the chance, she went on the offensive, aiming a downward slash at his head. The bandit raised his sword to block, but Guanyu feinted mid-swing, shifting her attack into a deadly thrust. Her blade pierced his chest and emerged out the other side. She yanked it free as another bandit charged her.

Guanyu leapt into the air, landing behind her charging foe. With a quick slash across his back, she sent him sprawling in pain. Another bandit, this one wielding an axe, roared as he sprinted toward her. Guanyu spun around and leapt again, this time bringing her sword down in a powerful vertical strike as she descended. Her blade split the bandit cleanly in half, his body falling into two gruesome pieces on either side of her. She stood amidst the carnage, her sword dripping blood, her breath steaming in the cold air.

Triska was in the thick of the fight. With a flick of her wrists, she conjured blazing fire orbs and hurled them at two charging bandits. The flames engulfed them instantly. Their screams pierced the cold air as they thrashed wildly, trying in vain to extinguish the fire. They collapsed into the snow, smoke rising from their charred bodies, and the sickening smell of burning flesh filled the battlefield.

Another bandit, armed with a wooden club, charged toward her, roaring like a beast. Triska raised her hands, summoning sharp ice shards, and flung them with precision. The shards struck his eyes, blood dripping as he screamed in blind agony. His club slipped from his grasp as he stumbled, lost and disoriented. Triska wasted no time; she conjured a final shard and hurled it straight into his chest, silencing him.

Three more bandits rushed at her. Without hesitation, she summoned icy bolts and sent them flying. The bolts struck each man, freezing them solid in an instant. Their frozen forms shattered into countless shards, scattering like glittering glass across the snowy ground.

Suddenly, a fourth bandit lunged at her from behind. She spun around just in time to conjure an invisible energy shield. His sword slammed into the barrier with a dull thud, as if striking solid stone. He swung again and again, each strike testing her strength. Sweat trickled down Triska's brow as she poured her energy into maintaining the shield.

Before the man could break through, a blade burst through his chest. He froze mid-swing, then crumpled to the ground in a pool of blood. Mark stood behind him, sword in hand.

“Thanks,” Triska said breathlessly.

Mark gave her a quick nod, already turning toward the last bandit—a hulking man wielding twin swords. This one was clearly the leader.

Mark charged. Their blades collided with a sharp clang, sparks flying as they clashed. The bandit leader thrust with his second sword, the blade finding a gap in Mark’s chainmail and plunging into his shoulder. Mark gritted his teeth against the pain and kicked the man hard in the stomach, forcing him backward.

Even with the sword still lodged in his shoulder, Mark pressed the attack. He parried the leader’s strikes, their swords ringing out in rapid succession. Then, with a swift, decisive swing, Mark’s blade found its mark, severing the leader’s head. The bloodied head soared through the air before landing with a thud on the snow. The leader’s body collapsed, staining the ground red.

“Mark!” Guanyu shouted, running over. “Are you okay?”

Mark grimaced but managed a smirk. “Just a scratch.” He yanked the sword from his shoulder and tossed it aside, blood dripping from the wound.

Triska stepped forward, her hands already glowing with a soft light. “Hold still,” she said gently. She placed her hands on his shoulder, murmuring an incantation. The wound began to close, the torn flesh knitting back together.

“Thanks,” Mark said, flexing his arm. “Let’s go tell the villagers it’s over.”

When they returned, the village erupted in cheers. The townsfolk surrounded them, clapping, whistling, and shouting their gratitude. Inside the inn, they were treated to hot food and mugs of frothy beer. Mark, Triska, and Guanyu sat together, basking in the warmth and relief of victory.

After a while, Mark leaned back and looked at Guanyu. “You did well out there. I’m proud of you.”

Guanyu beamed. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

“So, what’s next for you?” Mark asked.

“I’ll keep wandering and fighting the bad guys,” Guanyu said with a grin.

“You’ve got the skills for it,” Mark said. “Just remember—don’t take on more than you can handle.”

Guanyu nodded. “You take care too.”

As they prepared to leave, the innkeeper approached. “Is there anything else we can do for you?” he asked.

Mark thought for a moment. “We could use another horse.”

The innkeeper smiled and led them outside. With a sharp whistle, he called over a sturdy brown horse from the stable. “Take her,” he said. “Consider it our thanks for saving the village.”

“Thank you,” Mark said, mounting his white horse as Triska climbed onto the brown one.

With a final wave to the cheering villagers, they galloped off into the horizon. For that is the life of a wandering swordsman—to always be on the move.