Chapter 6: Zhan Yan in Peril

“Big Brother, your plan is far too dull. How are the brothers supposed to pass the time?” one of the men behind the leader grumbled.

The leader turned and asked, “Oh? And what do you propose? Have you come up with some new trick? Let’s hear it.”

The man chuckled slyly. “Why not let those two run for the time it takes an incense stick to burn before we give chase? Whoever fails to leave a mark on those two little brats has to pay for everyone's drinks when we get back. How about it?”

The leader stroked his chin in thought. “That does sound interesting.” He turned to Yan and Junlin, a wicked grin curling on his lips. “Alright, since I’m in a good mood today, I’ll give you a chance. Run while you still can!”

Yan was still so young—his hand trembled in Junlin’s grasp, but when he grabbed Junlin and darted off, his movements were swift and decisive, without a hint of hesitation. His mind was a blur, consumed by one single thought: escape, and bring Junlin with him!

“Junlin, get on my back!” Yan urged anxiously. When Junlin hesitated, Yan scooped him up without waiting for a response, leaping from branch to branch until the two of them vanished from the sight of the black-clad men.

The leader’s eyes widened in mild surprise, then he laughed. “That boy’s got some skill. This just got a lot more entertaining.”

One of the men, worried now that the pair had disappeared, blurted, “What if they make it back to the temple? That old priest is no pushover!”

The leader’s gaze darkened as he replied coolly, “No matter. We chase them now!”

Junlin clung to Yan’s robes, his face ashen. Even the little white fox seemed to sense danger, pressing itself tightly to Yan’s chest. Seeing their predicament, Junlin whispered, “Brother, they’re after me. Please, just leave me here!”

Yan’s brows knitted in frustration, and without a second thought he snapped, “Idiot, shut your mouth!”

Junlin looked up, startled, at the sweat-drenched Yan. He bit his lip, then suddenly released his grip and twisted hard, flinging himself from the tree—a good twenty feet to the ground.

Yan gasped and shot down after him, barely catching Junlin in time. Before Junlin could speak, Yan threw himself over him, and Junlin heard Yan grunt in pain. Reaching to his back, Junlin’s hand came away wet with blood.

The leader gave a cold laugh, dropping down from the trees. “What a pity, I missed my mark.”

Another black-clad man scoffed, “Boss, you’re too crafty, attacking early to dodge the penalty of paying for drinks.” As he spoke, he drew a dagger. “Well, I won’t be left out!”

Junlin stared at the blood staining his hands, his vision growing blurry with panic. “Brother! Yan! Yan!”

Yan coughed, blood beading at the corner of his lips. He scolded softly, “What are you crying for? I’m not dead yet. Help me up!”

Junlin hurriedly and gently helped him to his feet. Yan shot a cold look at the men and sneered, “You’re assassins from the Crimson Blood Hall, aren’t you?”

The leader raised his brow in surprise. “You’re more knowledgeable than you look.”

Yan said steadily, “The Crimson Blood Hall has a rule: if the hunted can withstand three attacks from the highest ranking among you, their name is struck from your kill list. Isn’t that right?”

The leader spread his hands. “That’s the rule. So, boy, care to try your luck?”

“Yan!” Junlin cried out.

Yan whirled around, grabbing Junlin by the collar. “Stop calling my name over and over. If you still recognize me as your elder brother, stay out of the way and don’t make this harder than it already is!”

He released Junlin and, swaying slightly, strode forward with long, confident steps. Junlin collapsed to the snowy ground, helpless. The cold bit deep, blood soaking through Yan’s blue and white priest’s robe. Clutching at the snow, Junlin wondered when his brother had learned to fight, when he’d come to understand the ways of the martial world—he knew nothing. All he could do was watch as his brother risked everything for him, as Yan’s blood slowly pooled on the ground…

He was unwilling—how could he not be? He wanted to protect his brother as well.

Yan moved into the open, and the men stepped aside, giving him space. He relaxed slightly—they still had some code of honor.

With practiced ease, Yan pulled out a hidden weapon and sealed his wounds, not flinching even once. “Yan of the Zixu Temple. Please instruct me.”

The leader’s eyes glinted with a trace of admiration. What a spirited boy, he thought. “I am Tie Qing of the Crimson Blood Hall.”

No sooner had he spoken than Tie Qing struck, dagger flashing. Junlin saw only a blur before blood blossomed on Yan’s left arm. Yan made no move to defend, only sealing the wound. “One strike.”

Tie Qing realized then—this boy intended to endure all three attacks. Amused, but now taking him seriously, Tie Qing wondered just how he’d manage it.

With another blur, Tie Qing appeared above Yan. Sensing danger, Yan twisted to avoid him, only to find himself moving directly into the path of Tie Qing’s dagger. The blade was about to pierce Yan’s chest when, suddenly, a blinding white light erupted. The onlookers shielded their eyes, unable to see what transpired.

Tie Qing was sent flying, dazzled by the white light before he even hit the ground.

Three miles away, Qingyu saw the flash and hurried toward it.

In the Celestial Realm, Old Man Yue gazed into the mortal world through the Mirror of Fate and sighed. The elders of the Celestial Fox Clan were truly troublesome. After returning the young fox, they had left all matters of his safety and whereabouts to him. Yet, before he could adjust, the child had run away again…

Little ones truly are full of energy. At last, using the Mirror of Fate, Old Man Yue located the young fox and sped down on a cloud, only to find a familiar man lying in a pool of blood…

All the old man wished was to quickly retrieve the fox child. The fate of mortals was not his concern. With swift, precise movements, he seized the little white fox blocking Yan’s body, vanished in a flash of light, and returned to the heavens.

When the white light faded, both Yan and Tie Qing lay collapsed on the ground. The black-clad men gasped in shock as Junlin ran forward, desperate to reach Yan—only for Qingyu to arrive first.

Expressionless, Qingyu scooped up the bloodied, unconscious Yan and glanced at the unscathed Junlin. In silence, he fired a signal flare. At the sharp bang, rustling sounded from all around, and twice as many men as the assassins quickly surrounded the clearing.

Qingyu’s face was grim. “Whoever harms my disciple—kill without mercy!”

“Yes!” the reinforcements answered as one.

After issuing the order, Qingyu looked down at the pale-faced Yan in his arms and thought, This boy has spirit, at least.

He shot a glance at the downcast Junlin. “What are you waiting for? Hurry up and follow me!”

Junlin quickly obeyed. Qingyu carried Yan in one arm and hauled Junlin along with the other, returning to the temple. Once inside the infirmary, he tossed Junlin aside and rushed Yan into the inner chamber. Yan's lips were already turning purple—those bastards had used poison! The Crimson Blood Hall—how dare they injure his disciple? They would pay with their lives.

Qingyu carefully laid Yan on a soft couch and, using all his skill and speed, prepared a medicinal bath and administered acupuncture. Only then did the poison subside a little.

Yan would need to soak for another half hour. Qingyu, relieved to finally catch his breath, stepped out to stretch—only to find Junlin waiting, eyes brimming with tears.

With a sigh, Qingyu placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Go and get some rest. Yan will need you by his side when he wakes.”

Having said his piece, Qingyu left to consider ways to further reduce the medicine’s side effects. The wound on Yan’s arm was minor, but the one on his back was far deeper than expected—nearly fatal.

Junlin stepped in front of him and, with a heavy thud, knelt at Qingyu’s feet, bowing his head again and again as tears streamed down his face. “Master, I want to become strong. I don’t want to cower behind my brother anymore. I want to protect him too. Please, Master, teach me! I’m not afraid of hardship, not afraid of pain. I’ll do anything!”

Qingyu’s eyes darkened. “Are you certain?”

Junlin pressed his four fingers together in oath. “I, Junlin, swear to protect my brother for life. If I break this vow, may I lose all that I hold dear, spend my days in solitude, and die with regret.”