Under the moonlight, two figures cut across the clearing—
one running, one chasing.
On a night this cruel, the sight felt both absurd and painfully real.
Wei sprinted as hard as he could, lungs burning, boots slipping on damp leaves. Every few strides he glanced back, measuring the distance.
Farther.
They needed just a little more distance.
From the grass to his left, a small figure burst out like a startled deer.
Chun.
Quick, precise, no hesitation.
She lunged toward Little Butterfly, scooped the girl up from the ground in one clean motion, and bolted toward the narrow log bridge spanning the ravine.
Behind Wei, the black-clad warrior suddenly slowed.
Then stopped.
"Ha—ha—ha—!"
The laughter exploded into the night, harsh and metallic, like blades striking against armor. It wasn't restrained in the slightest. It carried naked contempt.
Wei glanced back instinctively.
The warrior tilted his head, studying him as if appraising livestock—something that moved, perhaps even struggled, but ultimately existed for someone else's use.
"I heard something from my men," the warrior said lazily.
"He told me one man captured a hundred Han slaves by himself."
"I didn't believe it."
A pause.
"Now I do."
His lips curved faintly.
"You people—"
A soft chuckle.
"The moment you see us, you scatter like rabbits. Pathetic little rabbits."
The laughter was like a thin needle. It pierced Wei's ear, slid deeper, and lodged in his chest.
Heat rushed to his face—shame, anger, humiliation all tangled together.
And yet the warrior seemed to have lost interest already.
He even turned slightly, as if about to return to the fire and flip the half-cooked meat he had left behind.
In that instant, something inside Wei snapped.
"Hey—!"
He swallowed, forcing his voice steady.
"A warrior boasting about beating unarmed villagers?"
"You call that glory? Your 'honor' must be good for wiping your backside."
The air froze.
The warrior's head snapped back.
"Say that again, you little rabbit."
His voice dropped.
"If it takes me more than one strike to kill you, I lose."
Wei saw, from the corner of his eye, two small figures halfway across the log bridge.
And suddenly, laughter burst out of him.
It wasn't polite.
It wasn't sane.
It sounded like he'd just heard the funniest joke in the world.
But it was something else too—a weight that had pressed on his chest for too long finally ripping free.
Even if the next second he was cut clean in two—
Chun had already dragged Little Butterfly onto that bridge.
That was enough.
On the far side of the log bridge—
under the moonlight, between twisted tree shadows—
there seemed to be… something.
A shape crouched low in the darkness.
Wei had been facing the black warrior the entire time, but half his mind had never left Chun.
He had tracked her sprint, the way she grabbed the girl, the quick cut of rope, the awkward balancing steps across the narrow trunk.
But there—
Was that a shadow that didn't belong?
Or just overlapping branches playing tricks in the dark?
He couldn't tell.
And not knowing—
that was fear.
"Your heart is unsettled," the black warrior said quietly, as if reading straight through him.
Wei's pulse skipped.
Damn it.
This opponent was seasoned. The kind who missed nothing.
The next instant—
A blade of light descended.
It did not fall.
It crashed.
Like a white waterfall tearing down from the night sky.
The moonlight itself seemed to shatter under that strike, fragments scattering in all directions.
Fast.
So fast the wind didn't have time to howl.
So fast it felt as though space itself had been sliced open.
In the final sliver of time—
Death rushed toward him.
Wei's entire body reacted. Every hair stood on end. His scalp prickled violently.
His mind went blank.
There was no time to analyze.
He didn't even see where the blade came from.
His body moved before his thoughts could catch up.
He kicked off the ground and threw himself forward, almost losing balance entirely. He dove, rolled blindly across the damp earth, letting instinct drag him away from the point where he had stood.
When he finally stopped, breath ragged, mud coating his palms—
It hit him.
If he had been slower by even half a heartbeat—
he would have been split in two.
It had been an absurd choice.
A move that defied common sense.
A gamble with his life.
The black warrior froze for a fraction of a second.
For the first time, a crack appeared in his composure.
"…Impossible."
Was this backwoods boy truly that lucky?
Even so—
the saber had not entirely missed.
It grazed Wei's left shoulder.
Not a cut.
A shave.
Cloth exploded apart.
A strip of fabric—and flesh—spun into the air, dark red against silver moonlight, before disappearing into the night.
Wei staggered upright.
His left shoulder burned like it had been pressed against a forge.
He looked down.
Blood ran steadily from the wound, glistening in the pale light.
He lifted his hand and brushed near it casually, as if dusting off dirt.
"…That all you've got?"
His tone was dismissive. Almost bored.
At the exact same time, inside his skull—
I'm going to die from this pain!!!
Is he trying to carve me up and sell the pieces?!
My shoulder! My shoulder! How am I supposed to look cool ever again?!
The black warrior's pupils contracted.
He had seen countless men scream and beg under his blade.
He had seen self-proclaimed heroes shout bravely while their legs shook.
But this scrawny village brat—
His shoulder had just been shaved raw.
His breathing trembled from pain.
Yet he still looked at him like that.
Like he was watching a fool perform.
"Looking for death, are you?"
The warrior's anger twisted into a smile.
With a sharp motion, he swept the saber through the air. The blade caught the moonlight, drawing a cold silver arc.
"I'll give you a chance."
He stepped forward.
The ground seemed to tremble beneath him. Heat rose from his body like smoke from a battlefield. The thick scent of killing intent warped the night around him.
"I'll fight barehanded."
He drove the saber point-first into the mud.
"If you're a man, pick up a blade and come at me."
A pause.
"If you're still a rabbit—then keep running."
The air tightened again, stretched to breaking.
The black warrior stepped back several paces, hands empty now, waiting.
Waiting for Wei to choose.