"Hyah! Hyah! Hyah!"
Horses neighed fiercely as their hooves thundered along the narrow road winding between ancient trees. The forest stood tall on either side, its green-leafed canopies swaying like silent sentinels in the rushing wind, witnesses to the desperate flight below.
A man's voice boomed above the rumbling hoofbeats from the front of a horse cart, his weathered hands flicking the reins tied to two galloping steeds. His face contorted with a storm of emotions—fear etched in the lines around his eyes, urgency tightening his jaw, and an unyielding determination to protect his charges no matter the cost.
Behind the cart rode ten female martial sisters in flowing white garments, their faces set with grim resolve. Each clutched her sword firmly in one hand while the other gripped the reins tightly, their bodies moving in perfect rhythm with their mounts as they escorted the precious cargo.
Several miles behind, a troop of about fifty martial disciples pursued them relentlessly, their mounts' hooves tearing up the forest path. Though their clothing revealed different martial clans—enemies in ordinary times—they had united for one deadly purpose: to hunt and to kill without mercy. Their faces reflected nothing but cold determination, the thrill of the chase igniting their bloodlust.
"Giddy up!"
"Faster!" shouted an average-aged man wearing a black mask, his voice rising to a fevered pitch that carried through the forest.
"They must not leave this fortress alive!" he commanded, spittle flying from his lips. "Not even an insect of theirs must survive today if you wish to keep your heads on your shoulders!"
"Yeah!" the disciples responded in unison, their voices slicing through the forest air like blades. Some whipped their horses with the flat side of their swords, others dug their heels into the animals' flanks, driving the beasts into an even fiercer gallop.
Chaos filled the air—wind whispered through leaves, startled birds took flight with frantic wing beats, hooves beats the earth in a thunderous rhythm, and horses shrieked their protest at being pushed beyond endurance.
Inside the hunted cart sat a young, beautiful woman in an exquisite white gown. Fine jewelry adorned her neck, hair, and wrists, glinting softly in the dappled light filtering through the cart's covering. Despite her pallor, her beauty radiated even in distress, a quiet dignity surrounding her despite her condition. She was heavy with child, her hands protectively cradling her swollen belly.
This was the Lady of the Infinite White Clan—the oldest and most powerful martial clan in the known world. According to martial ranking, she had achieved the Deity Phase of martial arts, a level few ever reached. Yet in her current condition, she could no longer summon the power that had once made enemies tremble at the mention of her name. She could only rely on her clan's loyal sisters to defend her against those who sought her destruction.
But for how long could they hold out?
Deep within, she felt the unmistakable signs of impending birth. Her child was coming, choosing this perilous moment to enter the world. Pain rippled through her body like fire, forcing her to clutch her stomach as a strained, trembling cry escaped her lips.
"Ahh!"
Her personal maidservant, Kira, turned sharply from her position in the escort line, her keen ears catching the sound even amid the chaos. Concern flooded her eyes as they darted to the cart.
"My Lady! What's happening?" she called, her voice trembling with urgency and fear for her mistress.
No words came in response—only another agonized groan that told Kira everything she needed to know.
Kira's eyes hardened with resolve. She raised her sword scabbard high above her head and shouted, "Halt!"
The cart driver yanked the reins with practiced hands, causing the horses to whinny loudly as they skidded to a stop, foam flecking their mouths. The martial sisters slowed their mounts at once, their training evident in their synchronized movements.
Kira leapt from her horse in a single fluid motion, flung open the cart door, and rushed inside. Her heart skipped when she saw the truth—the child's head was already crowning. Fear flashed across her face, eclipsing any joy that should accompany a birth. This development meant only one thing: they could no longer maintain their pace.
She stepped back outside, meeting the tense, questioning eyes of her sisters, who sensed the gravity of the situation without being told.
Kira drew a deep breath, steadying herself before delivering the news.
"At this rate, we can't move as fast as we should. We must slow our pace."
One of the female disciples snapped in response, her face contorted with anxiety, "We can't do that now! The enemy already breathes down our necks—if we drop our pace, we'll never leave this fortress alive!"
Kira's voice dropped low but remained firm, her eyes reflecting both compassion and steel.
"Our Lady is in labor. This isn't just about protecting her anymore—we're safeguarding our only heir as well." She paused, then concluded with finality. "We move forward—but not at full speed."
Silence hung in the air like a physical presence before one sister rode forward, her face a mask of serene acceptance.
"Then I will buy you time," she declared, her gaze locking with Kira's. "Protect our Lady and her child. Leave this to me—now."
Kira's throat tightened with emotion, knowing what this sacrifice meant, but she nodded firmly.
"I will honor your courage."
Turning to the others, she commanded with newfound authority, "Let's move!"
The group surged forward once more, ropes snapping as they urged their tired horses onward—leaving their brave sister behind to hold the line against overwhelming odds.
Inside the cart, Kira returned to her Lady's side, preparing to help deliver the future of their clan despite the pounding hooves closing in behind them.
The lone disciple dismounted gracefully, stroking her horse's neck one final time before sending it galloping after her sisters. She stood alone in the road, listening to the thunder of approaching hooves grow louder, her heart calm despite knowing what awaited her.
She cast one last glance toward the path her sisters had taken, her eyes softening with memories of shared training, meals, and laughter, then drew her sword with practiced precision. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, channeling her energy until her blade glowed with a mystical white aura that illuminated the forest around her.
When the enemy riders emerged into view, she slashed the air vertically—the energy wave racing forward with deadly precision, splitting the very air in its path.
A masked disciple in black reacted with impressive speed, meeting her strike with his own blade aura. The two forces clashed midair in a blinding flare of light and wind that bent nearby trees and scattered leaves in a whirlwind.
The attackers reined in their horses, scanning the road with narrowed eyes. There she stood—a lone sister of the Infinite White Clan, her face carved with righteous rage and unwavering resolve, a single warrior against their army.
The masked disciple in black stepped down from his horse, walking toward her with a contemptuous smirk playing across his visible features.
"Do you think you can stop us?" he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery.
She said nothing, her silence more powerful than any retort.
"Hmm... interesting. Let's see what gives you such confidence," he drawled, circling her like a predator.
He lunged suddenly with a vicious overhead strike, but she sidestepped with graceful efficiency and slammed her palm into his chest, channeling her energy through the blow. The impact sent him crashing backward through the air. Blood sprayed from his lips as he dropped to his knees, shock replacing his earlier arrogance. Before he could recover, her sword aura slashed across his chest, carving a glowing line through his armor. His body collapsed, lifeless, a testament to her skill.
From the enemy ranks, a far stronger disciple smiled faintly and rode forward, his presence alone causing the air to grow heavy with pressure.
"Impressive trick," he said softly, genuine appreciation in his voice. "But..."
His sword flew from its sheath with blinding speed, wrapped in a tremendous aura that shimmered with killing power, the manifestation of decades of cultivation. "...we don't have time for a cheap duel. I'll end this now."
The sister's eyes narrowed, her resolve unwavering. She hurled her sword skyward with a graceful movement, summoning it into fifty identical blades that hovered before her in a shifting, living shield of steel and light.
"Infinite Sword!" she called, her voice a sacred vow that echoed through the forest.
The man's smirk deepened, revealing teeth as white as bone. "Attack!"
His sword shot forward, a streak of deadly light cutting through reality itself.
"Attack!" she echoed, sending her fifty blades racing to meet it, each carrying a fragment of her life force.
The two forces collided in the air with catastrophic force, cracking like thunder across the battlefield. The man's overwhelming power began shattering her shield piece by piece, each broken blade representing a wound to her spirit. Blood trickled from her mouth as her strength drained away, yet she stood firm, her feet planted in the earth she had sworn to defend. Victory had never been her goal—only to purchase precious seconds for her Lady and the unborn child who represented their future.
Seconds that might just change everything in the balance of power that had ruled their world for centuries.