Chapter Seven: Conflict

“Ling Yan, Ling Yan, you truly are remarkable.” A man stood at a distance with his hands behind his back, eight burly attendants trailing him. His gray robe was cinched tightly at the waist, his figure lean and upright, his features handsome yet marred by a hint of wickedness in his expression. Clapping his hands, he stepped forward and said, “You managed to steal my Kongtong’s treasure, and now you’ve found the Heavenly Sword Bone. Remarkable indeed.”

“Who stole your treasure!” The woman in red leapt down at his words, her voice sharp. “The Kongtong Sect is nothing but a den of shameless scoundrels!” With a wave of her hand, she flung a red lotus toward him.

“Young master, beware!” One of the attendants stepped forward, raising his arm to block the lotus. The skin sizzled as it scorched him.

The gray-robed man shook his robe disdainfully and looked at Chi Yuan, saying, “Well then, the Soul-capturing Bell and the Heavenly Sword Bone are both here. Unlock the seal, hand over Frost to me.”

“Is that how you speak to your aunt?” Ling Yan retorted, conjuring another red lotus. She turned to Chi Yuan, calling out, “Hey, deal with this little brat for me, and I’ll help you break the seal and tame Frost. I don’t care for the sword, I only want the remnant soul of the Emperor Scorpion. Is that acceptable?”

“Agreed!” Chi Yuan leapt to Ling Yan’s side, smiling. “I’ve had enough of this lecherous fool!”

“Oh, Ling Yan, your lover seems capable. Let me test him, see if he’s all show and no substance.” The gray-robed man leered at Ling Yan, then barked, “If he fails, perhaps I’ll be your lover instead. Sect leaders, cripple him!”

“Shameless.” Chi Yuan had never heard such lascivious words and was angered. At that moment, seven men stepped from behind, surrounding him.

Chi Yuan pointed backhandedly, his sword’s light aimed at the man wielding the long flute. The man raised his flute to block, but the sword’s radiance burst forth, dazzling all seven. Startled, they leapt back in unison.

When the light faded, Chi Yuan stood with hands behind his back, gazing at them with a faint smile.

Realizing they’d been played, the seven grew furious. One lashed his long whip forward, the bladed tip slicing through the air toward Chi Yuan’s brow. Chi Yuan raised his sword to deflect, but the sound of a flute reached his ears, unsettling his focus. He managed to fend off the whip, using its force to leap back.

Before he could steady himself, cold swept over his back. A crimson staff swung at his face; Chi Yuan dodged left, but a golden axe emerged from his waist. Undaunted, Chi Yuan reversed his sword onto his back, bent slightly, blocking the fierce attacks, then swept Wuya to drive the two away.

No time to breathe—a hammer descended from above, lightning crackling as it split the air. The ground trembled, as if something were about to burst forth.

Chi Yuan dared not pause. He stabbed Wuya into the earth, channeling his energy, and punched toward the hammer. Sonic booms erupted, snowflakes whirled into mist, obscuring the view from outside the circle. One of the seven wielded a feathered fan, transforming the mist into icy shards that pierced toward the center. When the fog cleared, Chi Yuan had already leapt several yards away.

“Interesting.” Chi Yuan cracked his bones, holding Wuya before his chest. He gathered his energy, punched the sword hilt, and Wuya transformed into a stream of light, piercing toward the seven. Chi Yuan flickered forward.

As he neared, he seized the sword hilt and lifted it. Wuya’s divine light blazed, a sword aura slicing the air toward the seven. Caught unprepared, they retreated hastily; one bled from the corner of his mouth, his shovel-like weapon split. He must have been wounded beneath the earth earlier by Wuya and now forced to block Chi Yuan’s attack.

Though disadvantaged, the seven remained silent, moving with a mysterious rhythm.

“The Eight Trigrams.” Xiaoyuan’s voice whispered in his ear.

“Oh?” Chi Yuan studied their positions. The scholar with the flute stood at the Dui position, the whip at Kan, the red staff at Li, the hammer at Zhen, the golden axe at Gen, the feathered fan at Xun, but Qian was missing—Kun must be the eye of the formation. Without hesitation, Chi Yuan charged at that man.

“There’s someone at Qian!” But Chi Yuan seemed not to hear, accelerating.

The man, seeing Chi Yuan approach, grew smug, stabbing his shovel into the ground. A wall of earth rose, shielding him as he retreated. Chi Yuan was now only a few feet away.

Just as Chi Yuan prepared to stab Wuya into the earth wall, a sharp arrow tore through the air, spiritual energy swirling around it with the mournful cry of a night raven, aimed at his back.

But Chi Yuan had anticipated this. He leapt, hurling Wuya toward the arrow’s source. Wuya split the arrow in two, then shot straight into a distant pavilion, exploding with a thunderous boom, shattering both archer and pavilion.

Chi Yuan landed atop the earth wall, kicked off, and charged at the man in the Kun position. Grasping the man’s head, he slammed it into the ground, scattering snow. Releasing him, Chi Yuan found the man lifeless.

With Qian and Kun now dead, the remaining six realized the formation was broken and their retreat cut off. Seeing Chi Yuan without his sword, they rallied and charged.

But Chi Yuan, trained in martial arts since childhood, was undeterred by the lack of a sword. He plunged into their midst like a tiger among sheep.

He dodged the golden axe, spun and elbowed a man’s skull, shattering it. The hammer swung toward his head; Chi Yuan punched, sending wind that knocked aside the attacking whip. The hammer flew up, Chi Yuan stepped forward and seized a throat. He then rushed at the flute wielder, punching his face as he drew near. The flute shattered, his fist struck the man’s skull.

Momentum unbroken, Chi Yuan grabbed the whip as it lashed toward him, pulling the wielder close and thrusting the whip’s blade into his chest. He withdrew the blade and hurled it, striking the feathered fan wielder; the whip embedded in his brow.

Seeing all eight elders fallen, the gray-robed man knew he was no match. He vaulted to flee, but Chi Yuan summoned Wuya with his energy, hurling it at him. A blue-gray shield flashed around the man, but Wuya broke through instantly; like a meteor, it pierced him from behind, and he fell like a severed kite, lifeless.

Chi Yuan called Wuya back, and at that moment Ling Yan conjured her thirteenth red lotus. With a soft command, the lotuses flew toward the scorpion demon.