As You Please

Fang Shuwen's lack of lightness skill was, in the end, a real handicap. Three li was neither far nor near, but hurrying the whole way, he only just now reached the Heart-of-the-Lake Cottage. From a distance he could see a man and a woman fighting, and the woman was getting the worse of it. No need to think twice—the man certainly was not Zhou Qingmei; and it looked like the girl was about to die at the black-robed man's hands. He at once let out a shout and, with a flick of his wrist, threw the single-edged saber that hung about him as an ornament. He knew nothing of hidden-weapon technique; the saber left his hand on pure instinct. But with the Great Perfection level of the Yijin Jing in him, Fang Shuwen's hand-eye coordination was far beyond the ordinary, and though he knew no technique, his aim was true enough. The blade whistled through the air, straight for the black-robed man. The black-robed man did not know who had come, but that did not stop him from deciding on the spot to pull back the blow meant to kill Zhou Qingmei. With a clack, he snapped open the folding fan in his hand and used its face as a shield before his chest. Then came a muffled thud! The force carried in the blade far exceeded the black-robed man's expectations. The fan face, forged of dark iron, was smashed to pieces in an instant, and the saber slammed into his chest right after. The ease on his face vanished utterly under that blow; for a moment his eyes bulged wide as if they would pop out, his features contorted, and he could no longer keep his expression under control. Pierced through by that enormous force, he was sent flying backward with a whoosh. He flew much farther than Zhou Qingmei had—a full ten or more zhang in one go—and he too wanted to adjust his posture and come down half-kneeling on the ground as she had, but with that force carrying him along, it was simply impossible. He could only tumble like a gourd rolling over the ground, bouncing and scrambling another three to five zhang. Only then did he come to a stop, sprawled there in utter disarray, spitting mouthful after mouthful of blood, his hair in a mess, nothing left of his earlier appearance. He could not help but glare furiously at Fang Shuwen: “Who—who are you?” “A guard of the Zhou estate.” Fang Shuwen actually had the leisure to answer him; by then he had already reached Zhou Qingmei's side. Zhou Qingmei was badly hurt. Besides the internal injury from that palm strike, she had taken some external wounds as well. She was looking at Fang Shuwen with alarmed, uncertain eyes: “You... are a guard of the Zhou estate? “How goes it at the Zhou estate!?” “When I left, all was more or less well; as for now, I can't say.” He looked at Zhou Qingmei, and decided he should confirm it: “Are you the Eldest Young Miss of the Zhou house, Zhou Qingmei?” “That's right.” Hearing this, Zhou Qingmei's heart, which had been tossing all this while, finally settled a little, but she could not help asking: “Are you really a guard of our house?” No wonder she doubted him again and again—after all, how could a mere guard, not even a retainer, have martial arts of this caliber? “My name is Fang Shuwen; my name is on the roster in the Zhou estate's accounts office. “If the Eldest Young Miss doesn't believe me, she can go and see for herself. “This time Master Zhou asked me to come and keep you safe... luckily I came in time.” As he spoke, Fang Shuwen pulled Zhou Qingmei to her feet—kneeling there the whole time was no way to be. Then he walked over to the black-robed man. A hint of surprise showed in his eyes: “Your internal skill is actually this deep? Still not dead?” “???” The black-robed man's eyes had already been glaring so hard the corners seemed to split, hating that he could not flay Fang Shuwen alive. Now, hearing this, his fury was joined by grief and indignation. This was simply a monstrous humiliation! If his internal skill were deep, how would he have come to such a pass? Yet Fang Shuwen looked as though he had spoken in perfect sincerity... which only made it more humiliating. Little did he know that Fang Shuwen's words had indeed come straight from the heart. His internal skill was now fully mastered; every lift of a hand or turn of a foot carried enormous power. In his urgency just now, he had put no small amount of force into that throw. It was still far short of his full strength, but judging by his present experience, if that force had landed on the middle-aged man from before, it would likely have blasted him into four or five pieces. Yet this fellow was still alive, which showed he was no ordinary sort. He counted as the most formidable of the lot Fang Shuwen had seen tonight. “...You—kill me or carve me up, do as you please, only don't—don't humiliate me!!” The black-robed man knew nothing of all this. He had barely stammered out that sentence when Fang Shuwen seized him by the back of the neck, hauled him over to Zhou Qingmei like a chick lifted by the scruff, and with a flick of the hand threw him down onto the ground. Poor wretch—the black-robed man was a master by any measure, but gravely wounded now and unable to resist, and with that fling he ended up with a mouthful of mud. For an instant, tears nearly fell from his eyes. The pain was secondary; it was the injustice of it that rankled. When had anyone ever treated him like this? “I'm only a guard martial instructor. When it comes to killing or carving, shouldn't that be up to my employer?” Fang Shuwen glanced at Zhou Qingmei: “Eldest Young Miss, whether to kill him or carve him up—he's at your disposal.” The black-robed man rolled his eyes back and retched up another mouthful of blood. Purely from rage. It had been a rather defiant line—how was it that in Fang Shuwen's mouth it no longer sounded like the same thing at all? Zhou Qingmei was a little dazed too, but she still gathered herself, looked at the black-robed man, and spoke in a low, steady voice: “Just who are you people?” The black-robed man gave a cold laugh: “Zhou Qingmei, don't think you've escaped a calamity today... “You... you did what you should not have done, offended—offended someone you should not have... “I'll go on ahead. On the road to the Yellow Springs, I'll wait for... you all!” At the end he deliberately glanced at Fang Shuwen again before he brought out that “all.” And once he had said this, he suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood and stopped breathing. Zhou Qingmei's face darkened; she felt for his pulse: “He severed his own heart meridian.” Fang Shuwen, though, was frowning. From what the black-robed man had said, their main target seemed to be this Zhou Qingmei. If so, that would explain why—though they had clearly found their way into the Zhou estate long ago, and Song Li had been killed early on—they had held off so long, waiting nearly two hours... They had been using that time to search for someone! But if that were so, things seemed to be getting rather troublesome. Fang Shuwen glanced at his mission; sure enough, there was no sign of its being completed. He looked at the black-robed man dead on the ground, and at last his gaze settled on Zhou Qingmei: “Just who have you offended?” As the saying goes, a wretched life is better than a good death. Gravely wounded as the black-robed man was, with his internal force, if he had wanted to live, it was not necessarily hopeless. Yet he had cut off his own chance at life. That was not something an ordinary person could do. Such a way of doing things was rather like that of a deathsworn warrior. Or else, there was some secret he would give his life to protect. Either way, it showed that this man's identity was no simple matter. Thinking back on his words before he died, there must be other experts behind him; Zhou Qingmei's danger had not been dispelled by this man's death—the matter was not over. But that was not good news for Fang Shuwen. It would prolong the twofold boost to his aptitude and comprehension, true, but the present situation gave him the feeling that he had been drawn into some very troublesome whirlpool. Zhou Qingmei opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but before she could speak, another mouthful of blood burst from her lips. Then her eyes rolled back and she passed out cold.