As the tricycle motorcycle rolled out of the Martial Academy, Rossi was still fuming. "I never knew the gatekeepers were so despicable!"
*That's only because you haven't seen truly despicable people,* Wu Youren thought with a faint smile. "Maybe he was looking to extort something out of me."
He wasn't deliberately framing anyone; in Jin Manor, that had simply been the logic of survival. He also didn't know that the gatekeepers and the instructors belonged to entirely separate administrative systems within the academy, so he couldn't fathom any other reason for the guard to make life difficult for him. It seemed the most reasonable explanation.
Rossi had also been wondering whether there was something more to this fellow's identity. Hearing that, understanding dawned on him. "Ah, of course! Red Pine's reputation has been dragged through the mud by those bastards... Sigh, forget it, it's not something I can go into!"
*Was that really why?* Gauging Rossi's reaction, Wu Youren took it as confirmation of his guess. He nodded. "Forget it, it's not worth sweating over. We didn't give him any money in the end anyway."
Neither of them had any idea that their guesses were worlds apart from the truth.
Remarkably, their words seemed to validate each other seamlessly, even as their assumptions drifted farther and farther from reality.
Complaints aside, they still had to go to Suotu Town, even if their promise to the gatekeeper had only been verbal. Refusing the request was one thing, but agreeing to it and failing to follow through was another matter entirely.
Suotu Town was quite far from the Martial Academy—over a hundred kilometers away, and worse, more than half of the route wound through mountainous terrain. The road wasn't particularly smooth, but fortunately, the motorcycle possessed decent off-road capabilities, allowing them to maintain an average speed of around fifty kilometers per hour.
Traffic was sparse. All told, they encountered only two convoys and a lone, open-topped off-road vehicle.
As they traveled, the sky grew overcast. Having been here before, Rossi pointed out that there was a supply depot not far ahead. Mountain weather was fickle, and if rain began to fall, it would offer a temporary shelter.
When the vehicle rounded a cliffside bend, they suddenly saw a wide swath of scree strewn across the road ahead, including two substantial boulders. They appeared to have freshly slid down the mountainside. Another motorcycle was already parked ahead—likewise a cargo tricycle—and its two riders had dismounted.
The pair were clearly experienced. They had stopped their vehicle well back and hadn't rushed to move the rocks, choosing instead to scan the cliff and the valley with sharp vigilance.
Rossi was no less seasoned; the moment the obstacle came into view, he began to brake gradually.
Wu Youren vaulted off the motorcycle. Instead of rushing forward, he kept a hand near his waist and asked in a low voice, "Could it be an ambush?"
On remote roads, unusual obstacles often weren't natural occurrences, but tricks used by highway bandits.
"The chances aren't low," Rossi replied. He didn't dismount, merely planting one foot on the ground while taking his hands off the handlebars. "Don't go forward. Wait here. For just two people to dare travel this road, their strength won't be lacking."
More than three hundred meters separated the two motorcycles—a relatively safe distance in the wilderness.
The riders ahead noticed the vehicle coming up from behind and felt their wariness, growing equally alert in response. Fortunately, Rossi hadn't dismounted, showing no posture of preparing for battle. Wu Youren looked like nothing more than an inexperienced youth, carrying neither long weapons nor firearms; how much of a threat could he pose?
Even so, the rider wearing a helmet turned partially sideways, remaining on high alert toward the rear.
After inspecting their surroundings for another moment, the unhelmeted rider walked toward the pile of rubble. Smaller stones were easy to clear, but the two large boulders proved arduous to budge.
Seeing this, the rider on guard duty waved toward Rossi and Wu Youren, then pointed at the rocks ahead. His meaning was clear: *Both of our vehicles need to pass. Are you two just going to sit there and watch?*
Rossi spread his hands without answering, his stance equally clear: *We're strangers; it's better to keep our distance.*
The helmeted rider pointed up at the sky: *It's about to rain. Are you sure you're not in a hurry?*
"All right," Rossi grunted softly, starting the motorcycle again and creeping forward.
The other party might not be villains, but out in the middle of nowhere, maintaining proper vigilance served everyone best. Even if wicked thoughts crossed their minds, seeing how guarded Rossi and Wu Youren were would make them weigh the consequences.
Wu Youren didn't climb back onto the vehicle. Instead, he quickened his pace, matching the motorcycle's speed on foot. As he jogged, he never ceased scanning their surroundings, missing nothing.
The distance steadily shrank: two hundred meters, one hundred meters, fifty meters...
At about twenty meters, Rossi brought the motorcycle to a halt once more and muttered, "I'll cover you. Go try and lend a hand."
"Watch how I react," Wu Youren said, stepping forward.
As he walked, he continued looking left and right, appearing extraordinarily on edge.
When he was seven or eight meters away from the helmeted rider, Wu Youren flicked his wrist. Three cold glints flashed through the air, shooting toward the man in a triangular spread!
The turn of events came so abruptly that no one could have anticipated the greenhorn youth would lash out with such violence.
Fortunately, Rossi was a Martial Academy graduate; if nothing else, his combat experience was second to none. The moment he heard Little Wu say "Watch how I react," his vigilance had ratcheted up another notch. It was their first time coordinating, but he was perceptive enough to catch noticeably unusual phrasing.
Seeing the Jin youth strike, Rossi moved instantly, vanishing from the motorcycle and darting diagonally forward. Mid-motion, he drew the revolver from his waist and fired three rapid shots in breathtaking succession. His target was precisely the helmeted rider.
Only after squeezing the trigger did he call out, "What's going on?"
He hadn't asked before acting because this was a sudden wilderness skirmish. In times of crisis, he had to choose to trust his partner—standing by his ally above all else. There was no other option.
Little Wu's offensive power wouldn't be very high; three small daggers might not even breach the opponent's defenses. But revolver bullets at such close range ought to inflict considerable damage. The likelihood of an outright kill was slim, however, as Rossi sensed the opponent was definitely beyond a mere apprentice knight. Against the cultivation of a true knight, such an attack could rarely deal a fatal blow.
"Use ghost-vanquishing bullets!" Wu Youren shouted, tumbling and scrambling in a rapid evasive retreat toward the rear flank. It wasn't a loss of body control, but a necessary tactical evasion.
"Fuck me!" Rossi understood instantly.
At the same moment, the three small daggers and three bullets struck the helmeted rider simultaneously. A ripple distorted the outer edge of the rider's body, shattering both bullets and daggers into fine powder. Concurrently, the rider's frame shuddered violently, and every part of its form began to squirm in bizarre contortions.
A furious roar erupted immediately after: "You seek death!"
"Talk about hitting the fucking jackpot!" Rossi bared his teeth. With his left hand, he drew a second revolver from his waist and fired four consecutive rounds.
He carried two revolvers at his belt: one loaded with conventional ammunition, the other with ghost-vanquishing bullets. Earlier, he had assumed he was firing at a human and made the wrong choice, which he now swiftly corrected.
The four ghost-vanquishing bullets blossomed into two bursts of crimson light—two targeting the helmeted rider and two flying toward the one clearing rocks.
At the same time, Rossi didn't forget to shout a warning. "It's not Guizu, it's a spirit!"
Entities capable of assuming human guise weren't the incorporeal, formless Guizu, but wild spirits of the mountains.
"Still counts as Guizu!" Wu Youren shouted as he dodged, flinging out a steady stream of small daggers. His predecessor possessed some foundation in throwing knives, mostly because Jin Manor offered nothing else to practice with. Hurling these small daggers now had virtually no chance of harming the targets, yet he remained remarkably composed; his primary role was purely to create interference.
He flung two knives toward the rock-clearing figure as well, without bothering to check the result. He was the weakest link on this battlefield, and protecting himself was paramount. He didn't expect Rossi to go out of his way to shield him, and even if there were a chance of that, he had no desire to hold his teammate back.
"Take care!" Wu Youren yelled. Flashing over to the motorcycle, he snatched up his backpack and bolted backward in a frantic retreat.
They had already agreed this was merely a partnership; he didn't count on Rossi to rescue him, nor was he under any obligation to save Rossi. That was simply the way the world worked.
"Just look after yourself!" Rossi snapped in a hurried voice, sounding equally incapable of sparing attention for anything else.
After the impact of the two crimson bursts, the two figures remained standing, their bodies writhing and twisting violently—definitely not human!
The next instant, the helmeted rider let out a ferocious howl: "*Awoo-oo-oo—!*"
Once the contortions ceased, it transformed into a gigantic orange civet cat. Yet atop its feline body sat the face of a human—or rather, not entirely human, resembling a monkey's face even more.
"It really is a monkey-tiger!" Rossi holstered both revolvers and drew the long weapon slung across his back.
It was a broad-bladed greatsword with a single cutting edge—essentially a short-hilted horse-chopping saber. Beyond cleaving and slashing, it could execute direct thrusts, a capability ordinary sabers lacked.
Rossi didn't hold the creature in high regard at all. Lunging forward, he slashed viciously with his blade. "A mere orange monkey-tiger dares flaunt itself before me?"
A spirit's strength wasn't necessarily tied to its color, but monkey-tigers were an exception: an orange monkey-tiger was only equivalent to a knight. Rossi was an elite knight cultivated by Red Pine Martial Academy; even ordinary human knights of Great Liang were slightly inferior to him. Now that he had a heavy weapon in hand, how could he tolerate the arrogance of a wild orange monkey-tiger?
At the same time, he didn't forget to caution his partner: "Be careful! That other one is likely a human chang—just keep it busy!"
Monkey-tigers already possessed formidable combat prowess among spirits, but what made them even more troublesome was their mastery of illusions and their knack for luring humans to their deaths. The souls of slain humans could be enslaved by the monkey-tiger, becoming the "chang" of ancient lore, doomed to aid the tiger in preying on others.
Rossi didn't fear fighting the monkey-tiger alone, but dealing with a human chang on top of it would be somewhat troublesome. With a companion present, the human chang wouldn't be able to gang up on him, allowing Little Wu to harass it from the perimeter.
Even as he called out the warning, deep confusion stirred in Rossi's mind: *How on earth did that Jin youth see through their disguise?*
By this time, Wu Youren had already sprinted seventy or eighty meters away, rummaging through his backpack and tossing items out behind him as he fled.
After a convulsive twisting, the human chang transformed into a vast cloud of brown smoke, hurtling in close pursuit. As it chased him, it issued a furious, guttural roar from within the mist.
The sound was heavily slurred, yet roughly discernible as human speech: "Brat, you're dead!"
Chapter 21