"Three strikes. That's all I'll need to kill you."
Qiao Mingxuan's voice was low and confident as he stepped forward, his battle blade gleaming in the dim tavern light. Saying he only needed three strikes wasn't just arrogance—it was his version of complimenting Xiao Ke.
He wasn't an idiot. He knew there was something off about Xiao Ke's power. The kid had a freakish, almost unnatural strength. How else could he have beaten Qiao Dong with his bare fists a few days ago? How else could he have sliced open the wrists of two of his personal guards with a single flick of that razor-sharp blade, the Meng Jiang?
So while Qiao Mingxuan was sure he could end this quickly, he kept it to a cautious three strikes. He wasn't about to make a fool of himself by boasting it would only take one. Still, to everyone else in the room, his words landed with the weight of a mountain.
As he advanced, it felt to Xiao Ke like Mount Tai itself was leaning in to crush him—the raw, instinctive pressure of facing a truly superior warrior.
"First strike!"
Qiao Mingxuan's shout ripped through the air as his blade slashed down, a blur of motion carrying a vicious wind. It was as fast as lightning, heavy as stone.
Xiao Ke's mind flashed back to his training sessions with Qin Bing. Against her, he was always on the defensive, his strength no match for hers. It was good practice. Seeing the ferocious attack coming, he reacted on instinct, raising Meng Jiang to block.
CLANG!
The impact sent a jarring shockwave through Xiao Ke's body, like a bolt of lightning. But just as the force threatened to overwhelm him, a surge of power erupted from his core. He didn't just block the blow—he threw it aside and twisted his blade in a vicious counter-slash aimed at Qiao Mingxuan's neck.
Qiao Mingxuan sidestepped the attack, a flicker of surprise on his face. "Huh," he grunted.
His strike had been infused with his Origin Power. No mere Battle Soldier should have been able to withstand it. Even a level-three soldier would've been left with a numb arm and half their body tingling. But Xiao Ke had not only blocked it, he'd launched a counterattack.
Okay, Qiao Mingxuan thought, a new calculation forming in his mind. The kid's got that freakish natural strength. He may be ranked as a level-one, but he fights like he's past level-three, almost at the level of a four.
He wasn't far off. Xiao Ke's 600-jin punching power and 100 Kahe of Origin Power blew past any level-three soldier. While still a ways off from the 1000-Kahe baseline of a level-four Battle General, his blade, Meng Jiang, helped close that gap considerably. Qiao Mingxuan's assessment was dangerously accurate.
Now that he had a measure of his opponent, the caution vanished. With a low snarl, Qiao Mingxuan's blade became a storm of cold light, crashing down on Xiao Ke.
Terror seized Xiao Ke's heart. This strike was a hundred times more ferocious than the last, carrying the force of a cavalry charge, the weight of a collapsing mountain. The air grew frigid, and he could barely breathe. A single, terrifying thought cut through his mind: The power of a level-five Battle General… It's a completely different world. I can't win this.
But he wouldn't run. All he could do was fight to the death.
With a roar, he heaved Meng Jiang up to meet the crushing blow.
The sound that followed was an ear-splitting shriek of metal on metal, like thunder exploding inside the tavern.
Xiao Ke's body convulsed. This time, the Origin Power surged through his blade like a live current, completely numbing his right arm and the entire right side of his torso. He stumbled back, his insides churning. He tasted blood, a sweet-metallic tang at the back of his throat, and swallowed it down with sheer force of will.
Qiao Mingxuan stared, a mix of shock and fury on his face. "You blocked that, too? Damn. For a level one, you hide your strength well. But that's the end of the line." His voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "With this third strike, I will kill you. I'll snuff you out now before you become a real problem."
His blade dissolved into a dizzying mirage of after-images, a cage of light that surrounded Xiao Ke. Then, in a flash, the mirage collapsed into a single, terrifying strike aimed straight for his heart. The blade hadn't even touched him, but the pressure was already crushing the air from his lungs, whipping his clothes back violently.
A bitter realization settled in Xiao Ke's stomach. He'd thought he could take on a level-five general, that his own strength, combined with Meng Jiang, gave him a fighting chance. He'd even thought he had a forty percent shot. He was a fool. He'd been too naive.
He was already injured, his arm useless. He had nothing left to block this final, overwhelming attack. He tried to lift Meng Jiang, a last, desperate act of defiance.
And then, the world stopped.
The air in the tavern didn't just chill—it froze solid. Every person in the room felt an invisible hand clamp over their mouth and squeeze their throat. Breathing became a desperate, impossible struggle.
An immense, suffocating power descended on them all, locking Xiao Ke and Qiao Mingxuan in place like statues. Their bodies were instantly rigid, their movements sluggish and impossibly heavy.
With tremendous effort, they both forced their heads to turn toward the source of the crushing aura.
Framed in the doorway was a woman in the black uniform of a Chiliarch. She wore a military greatcoat over her shoulders, and her shoulder-length hair swayed as she stepped inside on heavy military boots. Her face was a mask of ice.
It was Qin Bing.
Her eyes burned like cold stars, radiating an anger so palpable it felt like a physical threat. She scanned the wrecked tavern, the bodies on the floor, and the two frozen combatants. When she spoke, her voice was devoid of all emotion.
"I told you both not to test my patience. It seems neither of you was listening."
The final word, "listening," struck them like a physical blow. Qiao Mingxuan grunted, blood trickling from his lips. For Xiao Ke, already injured, the impact was devastating. A wave of nausea hit him, and he doubled over, vomiting a mouthful of blood onto the floorboards.
Qin Bing's eyes widened for a fraction of a second. She hadn't realized he was so badly hurt. Her verbal strike had pushed him over the edge. In that moment of surprise, her oppressive aura wavered, and the room could breathe again. Gasps filled the air as everyone stared at her, a single, terrifying question in their minds: Just how powerful is she?
Qiao Mingxuan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Chiliarch," he said, his voice strained. "This was a fair duel, protected by Imperial law. You have no right to interfere."
"Oh?" Qin Bing shot back, her voice dripping with ice. "And what about them?" She gestured to the dead and dying soldiers on the floor.
"They accused me of treason," Qiao Mingxuan said, his defiance returning. "They claimed I falsified intelligence to get them killed. You yourself said that accusations without proof are slander. I was teaching them a lesson."
"So they said a few words, and you slaughtered them?"
Qiao Mingxuan fell silent. Qin Bing knew who he was—the illegitimate son of a mighty man. If not for that, he'd already be a corpse.
"I cannot interfere in your duel," she said slowly, her eyes boring into him. "But you've forgotten a more important rule. During wartime, the mission comes first. We have ten days left to defend Ginkgo Town. Ten days. After the mission is complete, you can duel to your heart's content for all I care. But if anyone—anyone—causes trouble and jeopardizes this post before then, I will execute them immediately. Understood?"
Silence.
Her eyebrows shot up, her eyes flashing with fury. "I said, understood?!"
A chorus of weak, terrified voices answered. "Yes, sir!"
Her gaze fell on Xiao Ke and Qiao Mingxuan. "Both of you, get your men. Take the wounded to the infirmary and bury your dead. Get out of my sight."
"Yes, sir!"
As Qiao Mingxuan and his White Shark soldiers filed out, he paused beside Xiao Ke. "This isn't over," he hissed. "Ten days. When the mission is done, I'm coming back to finish this."
Xiao Ke, though battered and bleeding, met his gaze without flinching. "We'll see who's left standing."
Dawn broke over a scene of carnage and quiet grief. By the time the last of the five dead soldiers was buried and the wounded were tended to, the sun was already rising.
Duan Canglong and Luo Hou were in bad shape. Duan had several broken ribs; Luo Hou's left foot and right hand were shattered. Normal healing would take half a year, maybe more. Even then, they'd never regain their full strength. Their lives as soldiers were over.
Unless.
Unless they could get their hands on Angel's Kiss—the military-grade recovery potion that had saved Xiao Ke. It was a long shot. The stuff was rarer than a zombie vaccine and astronomically expensive, usually reserved for elite legion commanders.
Qin Bing had given him a vial once. As a Chiliarch and the famed "Valkyrie" of the Black Shark Legion, maybe she had more. He couldn't just stand by and watch his men be crippled for life. He had to try.
But how could he ask? He knew how precious the potion was. He paced outside her private courtyard for a full half-hour, the words caught in his throat, unable to bring himself to knock.
Inside her temporary office, Qin Bing was finishing up the battle report for Pocket Mouth Gorge. She'd been watching the shadowy figure pacing in her yard for a while. After stamping the report and sealing it with wax, she saw he was still out there, wrestling with himself. A flicker of amusement, quickly suppressed, crossed her face.
Her expression returned to its usual stoic mask. "Are you planning to trample my lawn to death," she called out, her voice calm but carrying easily, "or are you going to come in?"
Xiao Ke froze. She knew he was here.
Steeling himself, he walked into her office, snapped to attention, and delivered a perfect military salute. "Ma'am!"
Qin Bing looked him over. He was pale, the toll of last night's fight etched on his face. "How are your injuries?" she asked flatly.
"They're nothing, ma'am," he said quietly. "But Duan Canglong, Luo Hou… more than a dozen of my men are seriously injured. Without special treatment, their careers are over."
"That's the reality of a soldier's life," she replied, her tone cold. "The strong survive. I made it clear yesterday: spreading rumors without proof has consequences. They got drunk and started a fight. They brought this on themselves. Discharge the ones who can no longer serve. The Empire will grant them a small severance."
"Ma'am, you can't!"
"And why not?"
Xiao Ke took a deep breath. "Duan Canglong and Luo Hou are good soldiers. If you discharge them, they'll become scavengers, beggars. In this world? They won't last a year. Please, ma'am. They fought bravely at the gorge. I'm begging you… I need twelve vials of Angel's Kiss. To get them back on their feet, back to serving the Empire."
"Twelve vials?" Qin Bing let out a short, harsh laugh. "Do you have any idea what that costs? Five hundred gold coins just to produce one. On the black market? It's a thousand. Apiece."
Xiao Ke's eyes went wide. A thousand gold coins. An ordinary soldier made one gold coin a month. A thousand gold coins could set a person up for life, a life of luxury in any major city. It was a fortune most people could never dream of earning.
"Now you understand," she said, her gaze sharp. "Go and discharge them. These aren't combat injuries. The Empire will not pay a fortune to support crippled soldiers who can no longer fight."
Money. He needed money.
An idea sparked. "Ma'am, the bonus for the last mission! Our battalion was promised a reward. Can I trade my bonus and the bonuses of all my wounded men for the medicine?"
"The bonuses won't be paid out for weeks," she said, dismissing the idea. "And even if they were, it wouldn't be nearly enough. A regular soldier might get a coin or two. An exceptional one, maybe ten. All of you together couldn't afford a single vial."
Despair washed over Xiao Ke. His eyes fell to his waist, to the hilt of Meng Jiang. The blade, they said, cost a hundred thousand gold coins to forge.
Without a second thought, he unbuckled the sheath and slammed it on the desk between them. A soft click echoed in the room as the blade slid halfway out, its edge catching the light with a hungry gleam.
"Then I'll trade you this," he said, his voice ringing with conviction. "I'll trade my blade for the medicine."
Both he and Qin Bing stared at the half-drawn sword. It was strange. The blade shouldn't have slipped out on its own. Qin Bing, however, knew that some legendary weapons were said to have a spirit of their own. She believed that a soldier and his weapon were partners, comrades. You never treated your weapon like a dead object.
She reached out, her fingers closing around the hilt of Meng Jiang. With a decisive shink, she slid it back into its sheath and handed it back to him.
Her voice, for the first time, softened. "Xiao Ke, a soldier's weapon is his brother-in-arms. Your blade is the most loyal friend you will ever have. It will guard your life when no one else will. You never, ever give it away." She paused, letting the words sink in. "Besides, I gave you that blade as a reward. Do you really think it's appropriate to try and trade it back to me?"
Before he could answer, she opened a desk drawer and pulled out two small, glowing vials. She tossed them to him.
"And don't think I have a stash of these. Only Chiliarchs in elite legions get a few, for emergencies. This is all I have left. It's enough for your two most critical men. You'll have to discharge the others."
Xiao Ke clutched the vials, his heart heavy with a mixture of gratitude and sorrow. "Thank you, ma'am," he whispered. "I'll repay this debt with my life."
"Good," she said, her voice turning hard again. "But Qiao Mingxuan is still coming for you. You'd better figure out how to survive him before you talk about repaying me."
The mention of his name sent a surge of fire through Xiao Ke's veins.
Next time, he thought, a cold resolve hardening in his gut, I will kill him.