Han Yu stood still as the marsh wind howled through the broken mangroves, his chest rising and falling heavily.
The stench of stagnant water mixed with the coppery tang of blood in the air, yet his heart felt strangely calm. The despair that had crushed him moments ago had vanished, burned away by a single, blazing emotion... rage.
He could see the black-robed cultivator stepping through the shallow pools, each step rippling the surface like the tread of a predator. The man's sword, long and thin, glistened faintly with dark energy, a line of crimson running along its edge like living blood.
Han Yu clenched his fists until his knuckles cracked. He knew he was already locked in by the man's spiritual sense. There would be no escape now. To run would only invite a slash through his back.
So, he decided not to run. New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on novel•fire.net
The despair that had settled into his bones turned into a firestorm. His hands trembled not with fear but with the need to strike, to destroy, to make this monster pay for what he had done; to his fellow disciples, to this realm, to the innocents screaming in the distance.
The black-robed cultivator smiled lazily, clearly amused. "Oh? You're approaching me?" he said with mock surprise, his tone carrying the faintest edge of ridicule. "You're really approaching me?"
Han Yu didn't respond. He simply stepped forward again, his eyes fixed, his expression blank but for the fury burning within.
The man chuckled. "Interesting. You're not screaming, you're not begging. You're not like the rest. Most of them run until their legs give out. Some try to fight, but they always have fear in their eyes." He tilted his head slightly. "But you… you have none."
Han Yu's only answer came in the form of motion.
The halberd appeared in his hand in a flash of cold light.
Without a word, he twisted his wrist and hurled it forward with all his strength. The weapon spun through the air like a lightning bolt, the wind shrieking around its edges.
The black-robed man's grin faltered for an instant as he barely tilted his head aside. The halberd tore past his cheek, cutting a strand of his hair as it flew past.
"Well now," he muttered, eyes gleaming. "Feisty."
He raised his sword, its black edge humming with a strange energy. "At least this will be a change of pace."
He lunged forward, his sword whistling as he swung it in a sharp horizontal arc. But just as the attack was about to connect, Han Yu's fingers twitched. The halberd, now behind the man, suddenly reversed direction, flying back under his control like a spear guided by will.
The returning weapon struck the man's sword mid-swing, deflecting it just enough to ruin his strike.
The black-robed cultivator's eyes widened. "What—?"
He had no time to finish.
Han Yu closed the distance in a heartbeat, channeling what little Qi he had left into his fists. The energy flared faintly around his hands, the most basic form of Qi amplification, crude, but effective.
Han Yu's fist connected squarely with the man's jaw.
The crack of impact echoed through the marsh like thunder.
The man's head snapped sideways, and for the first time since he had appeared, his confident smirk vanished. He staggered back, eyes blazing with anger. A faint line of blood trickled from his lip.
Han Yu stood panting, the pain of the blow reverberating up his arm, but he did not back down.
The black-robed man touched his bleeding mouth and hissed through his teeth. "You dare…"
Han Yu's lips curled into a scoff. "You talk too much."
The man's aura flared violently. "A mere early stage Core Condensation brat dares to touch me?"
Han Yu spat to the side. "And yet, you're just a Core Condensation cultivator too. Peak realm, sure... but still the same realm."
The man's expression twisted into one of cruel amusement. "What makes you so confident that you can face me?"
Han Yu's eyes blazed with raw, unfiltered hatred. "Because I've already lost everything. The only thing I have left is—RAGE!"
He roared the last word like a beast.
His body exploded with motion, his aura flaring far beyond what his cultivation should have allowed. The air itself seemed to tremble as he lunged forward, fists swinging with reckless abandon.
The black-robed cultivator met him with his sword, parrying one blow after another, yet Han Yu did not stop. His punches struck like hammer blows, wild and unrestrained, each one fueled not by technique but by sheer fury.
Han Yu's hands were cut by the blade's edge, yet he did not stop. Even if his qi had been drained by the constant running and hiding he had done so far, he would give it his all.
The man snarled, countering with a series of precise slashes.
The blade drew lines of blood across Han Yu's body: his shoulder, his side, his thigh. But Han Yu didn't even flinch. He drove through the pain, grabbed the man's robe, and slammed his head forward.
Their foreheads collided with a sickening crack.
The black-robed man stumbled back, momentarily dazed, and Han Yu followed through with a vicious kick to his chest that sent him crashing into the mud.
Han Yu pounced like a predator, fists raining down.
The man caught his arm and twisted, their bodies rolling across the ground in a violent grapple. Blades of marsh grass tore beneath them, and the muddy water splashed with every impact.
Both of them struck wildly; Han Yu with his fists, the other with his sword and elbows. Each hit landed hard, drawing blood and leaving bruises. Han Yu's face was cut open along one cheek, blood streaming into his eye, but he didn't care.
He could see the shock on the man's face, the disbelief that someone weaker dared to trade blows with him.