Sometimes, ordinary people in the martial arts world have a rough time.
Running a tavern meant risking having your place smashed, running a tea stall meant getting caught in crossfire between two gangs, and even staying quietly in a village could lead to villains showing up, a knife pressed against your neck, turning you into a hostage.
Zhong Lingxiu put herself in their shoes and felt deep sympathy.
Then, without hesitation, she swung her sword to knock over the table and kicked out a table leg, sending it crashing onto Tian Boguang’s face.
“What are you whining about?” she taunted. “You’re poisoned by me and still acting defiant, even daring to hold a hostage? Let me tell you, in three days at most, you’ll be dead from the poison.”
Tian Boguang sneered coldly, “Little nun, you love spouting nonsense. Why should I believe you?”
“Don’t believe me? Then what kind of herbs do you have, hemorrhoid medicine?” Zhong Lingxiu exhaled calmly and smiled. “Enough nonsense, let’s continue fighting.”
Before she finished speaking, Tian Boguang hurled bowls and plates at her, but she easily sliced them aside with her sword.
“Isn’t your wound already swollen and festering? My sword is poisoned,” she said. “Within three days, the pus and blood will rise, and even immortals won’t be able to save you.”
“Tianshan Sect nuns chant sutras and worship Buddha; I’ve never heard of them using poison,” Tian Boguang said, though he knew in his heart that something was wrong. He had noticed since last night that although the wound was small, it was red and rotten beyond a normal injury.
He had cut it open to bleed, but this morning he still felt dizzy. Having been soaked in rain yesterday and then chilled by the cold wind, he was growing worse.
But the worse the situation, the more he had to appear calm. He said, “Even if you’re lying, at least come up with a believable reason.”
Zhong Lingxiu retorted, “The Tianshan Sect doesn’t make poisons? That doesn’t mean I didn’t buy it.”
Tian Boguang’s mind raced. The truth in her words was somewhat convincing.
The righteous sects prided themselves on honor and rarely coated their weapons with poison. If the little nun did this behind her sect’s back, she must have bought the poison from the market. That was manageable; the poisons sold by apothecaries were limited, and getting an antidote from a doctor wouldn’t be hard.
He glanced at the trembling mother and child, annoyed by the child’s presence. He kicked the boy to the corner of the wall but did not release the widow—firstly, she was a hostage, and secondly, she could lead the way quickly to the town.
“So even the righteous sects do dirty tricks. But I wonder if you care about your own life? Linghu Chong probably does.”
“Then we’ll wait for Linghu Chong to come and settle this?” Zhong Lingxiu said calmly. “I can wait; can you?”
Tian Boguang’s face changed slightly, the friction of his wound against his clothes made it ache, and his head felt much heavier than the day before.
He knew he couldn’t tangle with her much longer; his condition would worsen and might kill him instantly if he wasn’t careful.
So he turned, grabbed the straw raincoat hanging on the wall, threw it at her, then grabbed the widow and escaped through the back door.
Zhong Lingxiu stopped, took out a string of copper coins, and tossed them to the child by the wall. Then she glanced at the kitchen and saw there was still some thin porridge in the pot.
You can’t fight well on an empty stomach. She didn’t hesitate to spend a minute or two, scooped some porridge with a ladle, and drank it.
The coarse rice porridge was watery and tasteless, not filling but clean, quenching thirst and staving off hunger just right.
She drank it all down in one breath, then instructed the child, “I’m going to save your mother. You make some more porridge for my companion—his name is Linghu Chong. Understand?”
The boy clutched the copper coins she had thrown and nodded eagerly.
Wiping her mouth with her sleeve, Zhong Lingxiu dashed out the back door to give chase.
The widow was old and weak, hungry and unable to walk fast. Tian Boguang, mindful of his injury, dared not use inner energy recklessly, so he relied on brute strength to drag her along. Stumbling and staggering, they were soon caught up to.
Tian Boguang looked back at the swiftly approaching girl, a shadow darkening his heart.
In terms of martial skill, she was far behind him; in experience, this greenhorn knew nothing of the treacheries of the world. Yet somehow, after half a month of chasing, she had gradually gained the upper hand and forced him into this desperate situation.
Her skills were improving, while he was wounded… Could it be that Linghu Chong hadn’t laid down the rules for me? Was the infamous “Three Poisons of the Martial World”—nun’s arsenic, golden ring snake, and… the like—really meant to counter me, and this little nun was his bane?
Tian Boguang was a rough-and-tumble man with no formal education. Flustered, he even started to believe what he usually wouldn’t. Refusing to continue facing her, he roughly shoved the widow to the roadside, swung his knife, and slashed a cut across her back.
“Ah!” the widow screamed as she fell, frantically calling for help. “Help me, help me…”
Zhong Lingxiu’s gaze swept over her, noting that the back was soaked with fresh blood, flesh shredded and raw. She knew this was just a delaying tactic.
Sighing, she thought women were difficult to entrust to Linghu Chong in emergencies, and the bleeding widow couldn’t wait.
She stopped, quickly pressed two acupoints on the widow, then took out a Tianxiang Duanxu Jelly pill, crushed it, and applied it to the wound. “Stay here and don’t move. My companion will save you. The wound will stop bleeding on its own; just don’t move.”
“My child, my child… please…” the widow sobbed in terror, unable to heed her words or understand. She painfully crawled home, afraid her son might be in danger.
Zhong Lingxiu frowned slightly but soon relaxed and left her behind.
This was not cold-heartedness, but practicality—since the widow demanded this and that when she was nearby, wasting time. The medicine was applied; once the widow crawled a few steps and weakened, the wound would close and stop bleeding. There was no danger to life.
Saving lives meant saving the urgent, while sending a Buddhist to the West was a long road.
The dirt road was rough and uneven. Tian Boguang’s figure wavered at the horizon, blurry in the heat haze. Zhong Lingxiu leapt into a nearby ditch, taking a shortcut to intercept him. Sharp grass leaves scratched her bare hands, insects buzzed annoyingly, but she felt nothing.
The winding river flowed quietly.
Tian Boguang hadn’t expected another small river here. Wanting to cross, he found no ferryman.
He tossed a stone to test the depth, surprised to find it shallow. Rolling up his pants, he waded into the water.
A sharp sword whistle cut through the air behind him.
He twisted and swung his blade, feinting an attack and then grabbing at her chest.
Zhong Lingxiu reacted swiftly, not retreating her sword. Her left hand shot up to block his palm strike. Though her palm force was weak and failed to push him back three steps, the sudden appearance of the Tianchang Palm technique startled Tian Boguang.
He hadn’t expected her to have other tricks.
The Tianshan Sect… a group of nuns making a big name in the martial world had some foundation after all.
Cold river water rushed over his calves. Tian Boguang felt the sting and itch of his wound. The blazing sun made him dizzy, and his sword arm lacked its usual strength. Under other circumstances, he would have fled, but now in the water, he might as well fight it out and end this trouble once and for all.
His eyes flashed with murderous intent as he swung down his blade.
Zhong Lingxiu dodged sideways. The water reached Tian Boguang’s waist and her chest—no good ground to fight on. She leapt out of the water, skimming it like a dragonfly, but before reaching the bank, the blade threatened her back. She had to turn and parry.
She fell back into the water, sword splashing, but slowed by resistance.
“Hahaha, you’re looking for death yourself.” Tian Boguang hacked wildly, sending sprays of water stabbing her in the face, stinging sharply, making her eyes water.
She kept retreating, but whether due to slippery cobblestones or a hidden depression, she suddenly lost balance and fell into the water.
“Ah.” She struggled, flailing her arms.
Tian Boguang wasn’t about to miss this chance. He stepped forward and grabbed her collar, holding her down under the water.
Zhong Lingxiu’s mouth and nose were submerged. She struggled fiercely, wildly hacking with her sword, panic wiping out all technique.
“Little nun, not good with water, huh?” Tian Boguang gloated. “You want to kill me but end up like this. Fate, destiny, hahaha.”
The Tianshan Sect was from the north; northerners who fell into water were like fish on a chopping block, easy prey.
He pressed her down hard; her thrashing slowed, grew weak, and eventually stopped.
Her snowy white palm relaxed, and her tightly gripped sword fell with a splash into the rushing river.
Tian Boguang took a deep breath but remained vigilant, gripping his blade as he aimed a downward stab at her body.
He had enough of her pressure and was determined to wipe her out completely.
“Puchi.”
Looking down, he saw a deep wrist wound to the bone, blood spurting, coloring the river red.
“Hoo.” Zhong Lingxiu surfaced, exhaling long and steady.
Since learning martial arts, she had increased her breath-holding time. As long as she didn’t panic and exhale underwater, she could stay submerged for a quarter of an hour. She had hoped to stab him in the chest with her dagger, but when he rushed to finish her off, she had to settle for damaging his right hand that held the blade.
She was certain she had succeeded—his wrist bone was nearly half cut through. He could no longer hold his knife. Unless he was the rare left-handed type, the victory was within her grasp.
Zhong Lingxiu didn’t pick up her sword but slapped the water with both palms.
Her Tianchang Palm skill was average, but at least she was in the water.
When she practiced this technique, she had often slapped the water in a barrel; those who understood would get the reasoning. She was quite practiced.
Water jets shot up, striking toward Tian Boguang as he turned to flee. He clutched his severed wrist and used his lightness skill to the fullest, darting like a bird into the forest.
Zhong Lingxiu’s eyes followed the red glow moving. She searched the riverbed a moment, retrieved her sword, and gave chase. “Where are you running? Don’t run—you like this cat-and-mouse game, don’t you?”
She sneered, “Miss Zhang knows some martial arts and good lightness skills. You teased her by chasing her through the forest all night until she was desperate enough to try to end her life, then you saved her from assault. Remember that?”
She had overheard this directly in the Liufang Courtyard in Zhengzhou, hearing the Zhang family young master recount it, words full of grief and anger.
“Now, it’s your turn.” Zhong Lingxiu quickened her pace, sword flashing with flying leaves and falling petals. “Prepare to die.”
Tian Boguang, drenched in sweat, dodged sharply to the side.
The sword tip pierced a tree trunk three inches deep.
She strode forward, spinning to slash horizontally.
He lunged forward, narrowly avoiding the blade.
“Got you.” She approached slowly.
“Don’t, don’t kill me,” Tian Boguang pleaded, shuffling away miserably. “I’ve spared you so many times. Just spare me this once.”
He raised his hands in oath, “I swear I’ll mend my ways, never do evil again. Little junior apprentice, the sea of suffering is endless—turn back while you can.”
Zhong Lingxiu stopped. After a moment, she nodded. “There’s a trap here.”
She sidestepped two paces, avoiding a pile of leaves likely covering a deep pit dug by hunters to catch large beasts. “You think I’m in such a hurry to kill you that I’d let you trick me into a trap? I’m tricking you.”
The girl spoke kindly, “You’re bleeding and infected with wind chill. If this drags on, you will definitely die. I’m not worried at all.”
Tian Boguang snarled in frustration, “I, Tian Boguang, am truly cursed this year to run into a female demon like you.” He grabbed a handful of rotten soil and threw it at her face.
Zhong Lingxiu dodged and let him keep running.
Run all you want. With this much blood loss, you’ll pass out soon enough.
She followed the blood trail, stabbing forward twice to force him to dodge and flee.
Time passed bit by bit.
The sun climbed high, the day warming.
The red glow drifted beneath thick shade, slowing until it finally stopped.
Zhong Lingxiu stood three steps away, watching his breath grow shallow, chest stop rising, and after a while, Linghu Chong’s voice rang out: “I’m here.”
Linghu Chong emerged from the bushes, seeing Tian Boguang, life uncertain beneath mottled light, and the sword-wielding girl standing ready.
“Is he dead?” he asked in surprise.
“Almost.” Zhong Lingxiu stepped forward slowly, tightening her grip on her sword. “I’m gathering my strength.”
She didn’t pity Tian Boguang. Life’s value was best understood from the start. She hoped to make every decision with a clear conscience and face any questioning calmly.
Did Tian Boguang deserve to die? Of course.
But not because he bore the red glow as a martial skill target, nor because of his fate.
Because he was a villain who deserved to pay.
If the red glow ever told her to kill a good person, would she? She hoped that day would never come.
Zhong Lingxiu thought this as she brought her sword down.
Tian Boguang was dead.