Ronin Ambush

The mountain path was rugged, strewn with gravel and dry branches.

More than ten burly men were surrounding and attacking three or four people, blade light and sword shadows flashing, filled with murderous intent. Looking closely, Tai Yuan noticed something different.

"Master, they are Japanese Ronin," Lin Pingzhi reminded in a low voice, assuming Tai Yuan was unfamiliar with such people.

Tai Yuan nodded slightly, his eyes deep and his tone calm: "I know."

How could Tai Yuan not know of Japanese samurai? Their attire was distinctly different from that of the Central Plains people.

The burly men wore uniform dark grey outfits, their faces fierce and their eyes filled with bloodlust, the blades in their hands gleaming with a cold light as they struck with lethal intent. On the other side, a slender samurai clad in a light blue kimono and light grey hakama was desperately protecting three people behind him.

The three behind him looked like Han hunters. Why were they involved with a Japanese samurai?

They fought a life-and-death struggle, every strike aimed at vital points, the curved blades weaving a chaotic net and producing tearing sounds in the air.

"Clang! Clang! Clang..."

The hunters gripped their hunting knives, their faces filled with fear. Though terrified, they did not retreat, but huddled close together, warily defending themselves.

The combat was extremely fast. In Tai Yuan's eyes, the fierce men generally possessed second-rate martial power or higher, and each was fearless of death. Although the slender samurai possessed superior swordsmanship, roughly at the first-rate level, he seemed to have unhealed injuries. Whenever his blade blocked, he would pause slightly, his breathing rapid, and because he had to protect the three behind him, he was gradually showing signs of being overwhelmed.

Lin Pingzhi clenched his fists and asked in a low voice: "Master, should we make a move?"

Tai Yuan narrowed his eyes slightly, his tone indifferent: "Wait a moment."

At this moment, the slender samurai made a slip. A blade cut through his sleeve, and blood instantly dyed his clothes. His movements slowed slightly, his breathing grew more ragged, and his injuries clearly worsened.

Seeing this, the hunters behind him looked anxious, and one could not help but cry out: "Be careful!"

The samurai grit his teeth and persisted, his blade light remaining fierce, but he was already showing signs of exhaustion.

One who seemed to be the leader of the samurai shouted: "Kimura, attack the child behind him!"

In an instant, one samurai broke away from the fight and rapidly approached the hunters from the left.

Seeing this, the slender samurai ignored the numerous enemies in front of him. With a horizontal slash, he spun around.

"I will never let you hurt them!"

But he failed to notice the successful gleam in the other samurai's eyes. Holding his tachi in a reverse grip, the enemy dropped into a kneeling stance, and a cold blade light swept across the slender samurai's abdomen.

Slash!

The blade light carried a splash of brilliant red, reflecting the sinister gaze.

Drip! Drip!

The slender samurai propped himself up with his sword, kneeling on one knee as blood continuously flowed from the wound. Cold sweat poured from his forehead; this slash had aggravated his previous injuries.

The hunters rushed forward. One warily stood guard while another hurriedly checked his wounds, asking anxiously: "Shinta, how are you?"

The slender samurai, addressed as Shinta, trembled. He struggled to stand up, hunched over because the wound on his abdomen made it impossible to stand straight.

The burly samurai did not stop him from standing. They looked at this former legend with amusement. Being able to push such a swordsman to such a miserable state gave them a morbid, twisted pleasure!

"I am fine, but I may not be able to protect you anymore!" the slender samurai said in fluent Chinese, his eyes showing sorrow but also determination.

The leader of the samurai barked: "Battosai, more than a hundred samurai have died by your hand. But even if you can slay a hundred, you will ultimately die at the hands of our Oniwabanshu. Haha, do it!"

As soon as he finished speaking, both sides moved. One side brandished their blades, while the slender samurai pushed the hunters back, shouting: "Run quickly, split up!" and charged forward.

Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!
"Clang! Clang! Clink!"

The clashing of metal wove a deathly melody, with blood splashing from time to time—some from the slender samurai, some from his opponents.

With no expectation of surviving, the slender samurai completely abandoned defense, trading injury for injury and life for life, hoping only to buy more time for the people behind him to escape.

Not far away, Tai Yuan and Lin Pingzhi took all of this in. An anxious look flashed in Lin Pingzhi's eyes.

"Master!"

Tai Yuan nodded slightly, his tone steady: "Go. This is the perfect chance to test the fruits of your cultivation. I will back you up."

"Yes, Master."

Lin Pingzhi complied. Before his voice even faded, his figure shot out like an arrow from a bow.

His movement was swift, unlike ordinary light footwork that was airy and ethereal; instead, he was like a powerful hunting leopard, filled with strength and explosive power.

He took a step.
Boom!

With that single step, the ground beneath his foot instantly exploded into a bowl-sized crater. Dirt particles sprayed outward, and before the dust could even settle, his body had already leaped over a zhang away. Immediately, his other foot stepped out, creating another crater, leaving only a trail of yellow dust billowing behind him like a rising dirt dragon.

The massive noise Lin Pingzhi made naturally drew the attention of both sides.

As Lin Pingzhi dashed forward, he shouted: "Brother, I am here to help you!"

With these words, friend and foe were instantly distinguished.

Four samurai broke away from the fray and slashed toward him in unison.

The samurai in front had a cold face, his long blade slashing diagonally, its cold gleam pressing toward Lin Pingzhi's throat. The one on the left was agile, his dagger striking craftily at his vitals. The one on the right held his blade with both hands, chopping down with mountain-splitting force. The samurai in the air descended, his sharp blade aimed at Lin Pingzhi's chest like a shooting star in the dark night.

In an instant, the blade lights interwoven, and Lin Pingzhi was completely blocked, falling into a deadly trap.

Tai Yuan knew clearly in his heart that although Lin Pingzhi had practiced fist techniques with him, his past opponents had only been some escort masters who knew basic moves, or wild beasts in the forest. Though those opponents were fierce, they ultimately lacked human cunning and ruthlessness.

Lin Pingzhi lacked the experience of evenly matched life-and-death struggles. Facing these seasoned assassins now, his fatal weakness was instantly exposed.

Beasts were, after all, beasts, relying on instinct to hunt. Even a fierce tiger only had three moves: pouncing, rearing, and swiping. Once you understood these three moves, it was not hard to deal with.

But humans were different, especially these assassins. They were sinister, ruthless, and had no bottom line, studying only how to kill faster and more effectively. They knew every vital spot on the human body, and their blades always aimed for death points.

At some point, Tai Yuan had gathered a few pebbles in his hand, his eyes locked onto the battle. If Lin Pingzhi truly fell into mortal danger, he would intervene without hesitation.

However, Lin Pingzhi's next move made his eyes light up.