Iskander Palikari 10 - The Big Cheese, Part 2
Preparations for the new job hadn't taken too long at all; everyone had packed up what they needed with a practiced ease and the Bloody Tusks had set off. First, they hit up a local village to 'pick up' a few extra horses so that everyone could have their own. It had taken some shouting by the boss, but eventually the gang had been convinced to not thoroughly pillage it, as they only had so much time. From there, they had followed the Devil from a distance as Sheng Meng's ravens watched him closely, waiting for the perfect time to strike. As it turned out, that time was today.
They'd all armed and equipped themselves in their preferred styles, of course. Part of the Bloody Tusks' success could be attributed to their fairly broad ranges of expertise in combat, which meant they were rarely caught off-guard. No matter the situation, they always had someone on hand who could handle it.
Guo Shi carried several undecorated, medium-length spears across his back, and had another one loosely gripped in his hand. Xiong Lei had nothing except a single sword at his hip, plus a backup across his back; it was all he needed. Zou Shen, ammunition pouches with different-colored stripes painted on them strapped to his hips and thighs, an openly nervous expression affixed to his face. Zeng An, a meteor hammer with a sickle on one end and a mace on the other rolled up and strapped to his hip, was also carrying a large pack filled with miscellaneous other items. Sheng Meng also had a sword at his hip, but what was actually dangerous about him were the animals faithfully trailing behind the group(or riding in Zeng An's bag), as well as the small black rectangular box tucked away in a pocket on the inside of his shirt. Lastly, Qin Duyi was currently unarmed so as to prevent any accidents, but would be handed his hefty, brutal warhammer when the fighting was about to begin.
All of them were equipped practically, in tough, hardy leather armor that was easy to repair and could withstand a lot of punishment. Well, all except two: Jia Liwei wore his usual, more extravagant ensemble, and Qin Duyi was clad head to toe in steel. The huge man's horse, the largest and strongest one they had, was beginning to noticeably flag behind the others as it struggled under all of that combined weight.
The air was getting dry, a sign that they were approaching the Organ Meat Desert. The Bloody Tusks rode at a steady clip, fast but sustainable. At this pace, the Devil would notice their approach fairly soon; they were only a few miles behind him after all. The steady hoofbeats of the horses set the minds of some at ease, preparing them for the action ahead, but others were more easily distracted.
"I really do think I've hit a serious breakthrough here!" Zou Shen said excitedly, rolling a plain ceramic ball between his fingers. "Ground beetle shell turned out to be the right call. The mixture sticks to it better than it does to flour or sand, so it will spread farther. Are you sure you don't want to learn chemistry some other time?" He asked Guo Shi, who was being uncharacteristically patient with him.
"Ech, I really don't get what you see in all of that stuff." Guo Shi said, rolling his eyes. "I guess it's kinda useful, but how is it fun? You're just combining smelly shit together to make even smellier shit."
"It gets fun when you know the actual principles behind it." Zou Shen pouted, hanging his head. "Why do none of you ever want to learn something new?"
"Because we're no good at it, Shen!" Xiong Lei laughed, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. "If we were esteemed wise men, we wouldn't be bandits, now would we?" He then turned to Zeng An, his smile getting a bit crueler. "What about you, Zeng An? Do you want to be a chemist?"
Zeng An perked up, surprised that someone was willingly starting a conversation with him, rather than him needing to pester someone for attention. "Me? Uh... I dunno, maybe? I'm not sure if I've the knack for it though."
"You can't be a chemist, don't lie!" The swordsman heckled. "Zou Shen's here because he got kicked out of his sect for human experimentation. No one with five carts' worth of education would live in the sticks otherwise."
Jia Liwei had long felt that, when observing the gang's social interactions from afar, they almost seemed like insects, in the sense of how well-defined their social hierarchy was. The older members bullied the newer members, who in turn bullied the newest. When a brand new member joined, the previous newest were eager to have someone beneath them who they could in turn feel better than, and so the cycle continued. That was all fine by Jia Liewi - having such a strong sense of who was above who meant they all fell in line when it was his turn to speak.
"I'm already carrying your stuff, you could at least be a little more grateful!" Zeng An snapped, glaring at his fellow Tusk.
"Oh relax! We're all friends here, aren't we? We're just bantering, having some fun." Xiong Lei sniggered, turning to Guo Shi. "Right?"
"Yeah, we're all good friends." The spearman said, his voice dripping with smarmy condescension.
"If I'm your friend, then do I have to carry these supplies when Qin Duyi and Xiong Lei are stronger than me?" Zeng An grumbled, shrugging his shoulders to distribute the weight of his pack more evenly.
Xiolng Lei snorted loudly, as if amused by the very idea of himself doing more work than needed. "Cuz I called 'not it', man. Not my fault you're slow on the draw."
"Qin Duyi, then?" Zeng An asked, pouting.
Xiong Lei raised his eyebrows at that his face the very picture of 'are you fucking joking?' "By all means, go ahead." He declared with a wry smirk, pointing at their huge comrade. "But he's not in a good mood."
Qin Duyi reacted briefly, looking gormlessly at the finger as if wondering what it meant, before turning back to the road. Even that small movement served to emphasize the unreal size of the man; over seven feet tall, bulging with obscene muscle mass, plus a substantial belly which served to add even more to the sheer breadth of his silhouette. Qin Duyi was in the Seventh Heavenstage, and Jia Liwei in the Ninth. Despite that, even the Bloody Tusks' leader couldn't come close to the giant invalid in raw strength. He lacked the wits to become truly adept at martial arts, but through time and effort, he had been trained to cycle qi, use basic Body arts and Weapon Arts, and to wield a weapon with an acceptable minimum of competence.
Since he would inevitably be hit, Qin Duyi had been dressed in thick, heavy plate armor, armor which he bore with seemingly no effort, and since his attacks would never be sophisticated, he had been given a long-handled warhammer that was fairly easy to use. It was sad, but in the sort of way you learned to stop thinking about when you worked in a profession like this. Qin Duyi, unable to make sound decisions on his own, had no more autonomy than one of Sheng Meng's beast companions, and would be used up until he had no more to give.
His face and neck, thick and round with fat and muscle, bore a dense and poorly-groomed beard, and his hair was long and shaggy, because his fellow gangsters only groomed Qin Duyi when he was in a good mood, or when the smell got particularly bad. His eyes, set deep in his skull, were glaring forward into the distance, and his jaw was tightly clenched; occasionally, a quiet, formless growl bubbled up from his throat and through his closed mouth.
"He's got a skin infection, so he's pretty pissed off today~." The long-haired swordsman teased in a sing-song voice, rubbing Zeng An's bald head with the palm of his hand in lieu of any hair to ruffle.
"...I'll carry the pack." Zeng An mumbled, his gaze falling in defeat.
"Pipe down, it's almost go-time." Jia Liwei spoke up, and the idle conversation immediately stopped. "We're speeding up in one minute."
The key to victory in battle, in Jia Liwei's opinion, was not power. Sure, stockpile enough of an advantage in power and there was little the enemy could do to contend with you, but such an advantage was, to the vast majority of the population, an unattainable luxury. Spirit-Steel weapons were easy to make, stronger and sturdier than any mortal tool, and a weapon made from it could reliably cleave through the flesh of anyone in Qi Condensation. What that meant was that ultimately, everyone in the first Great Realm was vulnerable to everyone else; there were no gulfs so wide as to truly make combat impossible... well, almost always, at least.
But while power could not create unwinnable circumstances within Qi Condensation, there was something that could: bafflement. Limiting the enemy's options, so they will only make moves which fall into your strategy. That was a bandit's true strength: they never struck on open ground or fought to take or hold territory; they acted in wild, unguarded places, a domain in which they were the master and anyone passing through was a foreigner. They picked the time, the place, the pace, and the victim.
That would be the strategy here; close off the enemy's options, corner him, and then destroy him. He was pretty sure that this Devil would be in the Ninth Heavenstage or, even worse, the Unorthodox stages. Anyone weaker than that simply wouldn't be trusted to pick up such a valuable shipment. An immediate attack in plain view against someone of that level was a dangerous thing to do - they would almost certainly overwhelm him, sure, but all of them would be risking death to an unacceptable degree.
Jia Liwei was in the Ninth Heavenstage himself, and his subordinates were all between the Sixth and the Eighth. The Sixth Heavenstage was the minimum needed to be considered for membership into the Tusks, as the majority of Cultivators never got past the Fifth; thus, each member could be expected to defeat the majority of Cultivators on their own. Some gangs simply took on anyone they could get, using numbers to make up for a lack of individual quantity, but as far as Jia Liwei was concerned, such an approach was just plain sloppy. A smaller team of more capable fighters, all of whom knew each other well and could coordinate easily, was much more reliable. Well, that and the loot wouldn't be split as many ways.
Still, the Ninth Heavenstage was special; a body in progress could not be compared to a body tempered enough for ascension, and so even the one-stage gap between Eighth and Ninth was not to be underestimated. It wouldn't be a huge loss to lose just one of his men, but there was no point in risking such a loss pointlessly, and if things went especially bad, he might even lose more than one. No, they were better off doing this professionally and without excessive risk.
The battlefield had already been chosen ahead of time; a dusty, sparsely-used road along a steep hill. Slope on one side, slope on the other; there were only two safe directions. It was wide enough for three of the Rock-Crunching Mountain Bulls to walk side by side comfortably, which meant it wasn't so narrow that fighting would be difficult, nor would they be choked into a straight line. A few hours prior, Sheng Meng's ravens had found the Devil taking this road, and so the gang had pinpointed the exact location at which the battle would be initiated.
When the road came to a wide bend that would persist for several miles, they all sped up, their horses eating up the distance behind their target's. By the time they finally crested around the bend and could see him, they were less than three hundred feet away. The man they were tracking was indeed a Golden Devil, with the swarthy skin and blonde hair associated with their people, and the armor on both him and the old nag who carried him was unmistakably of their design as well. In front of him were seven Rock-Crunching Mountain Cows, their massive, ponderous bodies requiring them to walk in three rows.
He reacted to the noise of their approach immediately, whirling around with a shocked expression as he turned on his spiritual sense to feel not just one or two, but seven Cultivators close to his level. Immediately he sped up, urging his horse into a swift gallop and calling out a command to the cows. The gap ceased to shrink and the chase began in earnest, but it was not Jia Liwei's intention to allow for a protracted pursuit.
Array-carving was not the forte of anyone in the Bloody Tusks, but it was one of those things where just knowing the basics can help a great deal. In this case, it was an array of one of Jia Liwei's own techniques, carved into the road and linked to a slip on his person. With a surge of his qi, he activated the slip, and spikes of rock burst out of the ground in front of the Devil and his small herd. His horse, surprisingly, did not rear up at the near-collision, but simply began to make its way through the hazard as quickly as it could manage.
Even so, the trap served its objective. The cows simply barreled through, crushing the spikes underhoof without paying them any mind, causing a considerable distance to build between them and their protector, who would take a while longer to get through. Realizing he'd been had, the Devil turned himself completely around in his saddle, riding backwards so as to face his attackers.
"This is my favorite part!" Guo Shi cackled, reaching to his back and drawing forth one of the several spears stored there. His qi quickly coated the full length of his weapon, then began to swirl around the tip in a spiral pattern. Despite his thin build, Guo Shi could throw a spear with incredible force, and his techniques were designed around this strength. In the Bloody Tusks' experience, no Qi Condensor's armor could stand up to his spear-throwing, especially not on a direct hit. If this went well, the battle would end here, with no need for any further steps.
The spear whistled, through the air, its arc perfectly on target, and the Devil drew a sword from his hip. He met the spear with equally impressive accuracy, managing to deflect the first projectile into the ground, where it penetrated nearly half its length in depth. Adjusting quickly, Guo Shi threw a second spear, this one aiming at the Devil's right shoulder. It was notoriously difficult to use a sword held in the right hand to defend the right shoulder, and the same with the left hand and left shoulder. It came down to range of motion, as an arm bending at such an awkward angle could not generate much force.
Indeed, their target botched his defense - though he knocked the spear away, the sword was knocked out of his grasp, clattering to the ground just as his horse finally got free. He had escaped the trap, but now his enemies had nearly caught up with him, and with no time to grab his sword, he simply turned back around and ran off, desperately trying to gain ground.
With a snap of his fingers, Jia Liwei commanded the spikes to retract back into the ground ahead of the gang, and the Bloody Tusks continued to thunder forward, a mere twenty feet between them and the mark by this point. He smirked, already declaring the next step of the plan. "We're close enough now, start the--"
Guo Shi screamed, drawing the attention of the whole gang. He clutched at the stump of what had once been his hand, blood spraying everywhere. The culprit soon became clear: a flash of silver, overtaking the bandits and cutting through the air toward the Devil.
Still screaming incoherently, Guo Shi toppled off his horse, bouncing and rolling across the ground for a good ten feet before finally stopping in a sobbing, writhing heap. The gang immediately began shouting amongst each other, aghast at the trick the Devil had been pulled. Some murmured fearfully, while others shouted indignantly at their foe, calling him a coward and worse, to which he didn't seem to react.
"He pretended to get disarmed, but dropped his sword on purpose so he could attack us from behind..." Jia Liwei muttered to himself. "I thought Devils were rigid, but this one's pretty tricky. This changes nothing! Stage two, now!" He bellowed, causing the gang to snap back to attention.
Sheng Meng wordlessly obliged, opening the black box at his hip and retrieving a flute. Then he lifted it to his lips, and the mood instantly changed. The melody was haunting and captivating, far more sophisticated and beautiful than anything one would expect to hear from a mountain bandit's hands and lips.
Sheng Meng's flute, a thousand-year-old treasure made of dark wood, took in his qi and produced a resonance which dulled the mind. When it came to Demonic Tunes, Sheng Meng was nothing more than a journeyman, with most of his skill being in Beast Arts, but with the help of this tool, the Four Moon Flute, he could command relatively simple minds. Anything as smart as or smarter than a human was beyond him, but almost all animals were viable targets.
This was Sheng Meng's true skill, the secret to his(relative) success. With the Four Moon Flute, he could force a Beast Bond on normal carnivorous animals, then feed them human bodies to make use of cultivation resources the rest of the gang couldn't use. Not being actual spirit beasts, none of his pets had any spiritual resistance whatsoever, rendering it very cheap to maintain the Beast Bond. Furthermore, it made his pets relatively expendable, as when one died, the others would later eat it, making them stronger.
Because Sheng Meng could field his own pets into battle and avoid fighting himself, and because his skills with the Four Moon Flute was such a crucial asset in many of the gang's jobs, he found himself reaping greater rewards than his fellows at lesser risk to himself. This naturally made the others resent Sheng Meng somewhat, but his response was always the same: 'could you do my job?'
The animals that had been riding in Zeng An's pack all climbed out, jumping from one horse to the next until they reached Jia Liwei, who threw squirrels and mice and small feral cats at the Devil as if they were stones. Some struck him and began clawing and biting him with furious tenacity, while others missed and tumbled down the hill or painfully bounced along the ground. His wolf and his birds, who had been following alongside the gang, sped up to attack the horse, filled with newfound strength and energy by the melody.
As the twin crows Jibber and Jabber harassed the Devil, The wolf leapt up and sunk its jaws into the horse's neck, sending both of them tumbling to the ground and throwing the Devil off. He hit the ground hard, rolling one way to dodge the pounding hooves of a fleeing cow, then the other way to avoid a small ceramic orb flung by Zou Shen's sling. Upon hitting the ground, it burst into a noxious-smelling gas which spread out about ten feet before dissipating, the fumes briefly enveloping their quarry as he got to his feet and dashed away.
It wasn't a particularly deadly poison, as throwing around lethal toxic gasses was a bad idea when you were fighting in a team. Instead, it was both an irritant and a paralytic, causing pain and muscle spasms in the target to make them easier to bring down. Already, he was wobbling on his feet, struggling to keep his balance. Guo Shi took this opportunity gleefully, throwing a spear toward the Devil's heart. He dodged the attack, only to be struck in the back by Zeng An's meteor hammer, stumbling forward and falling to one knee.
Three men were on the Devil in an instant: Xiong Lei, Qin Duyi, and Jia Liwei himself. The brute struck first, bringing down a crushing blow which the Devil rolled away from, then another which was, surprisingly, deflected. It didn't seem to physically make sense - Qin Duyi certainly seemed confused - which meant there was some sort of technique in play. The Devil made to counter, but Xiong Lei interrupted with a barrage of his own strikes, grinning like a kid with a new toy. The Devil was driven back a few steps, before deftly knocking the other man's blade aside - then dashing back again to save his neck from Helm Splitter.
So far, so good. The plan had not been without its hiccups, but the broad strokes were working: Slow the Devil with with their trap, bring him to the ground, weaken him, then pile on him with all of their best melee fighters while Sheng Meng rode ahead with the rest to subdue and capture the cows. All of the most difficult and uncertain parts of the attack were over; all that was left was to actually kill the bastard.
The melee was supremely, inevitably, crowded. Attacking as a group meant that all three of them had to pay attention to where the others were so as to not hit them by accident, a problem the Devil didn't have. Furthermore, the Devil seemed to be quite good at tracking multiple things at once, never letting him get caught unawares or surrounded. The three of them drove their opponent further and further down the road, trying again and again to pin him against the mountainside, but he was just too slippery to let that happen.
Still, their progress was inevitable. They scored small wounds on the Devil over and over again, Xiong Lei's quicker attacks nicking him whenever he put himself off-balance avoiding the slower, more lethal swings of Jia Liwei or Qin Duyi. He visibly grew more tired as he lost blood and qi, his limbs shaking and sweat dripping from his face as his stamina began to flag. The effects of Zou Shen's poison had mostly worn off by now, but it had done its job; fatigue would do the rest.
Suddenly, the Devil changed tactics, setting his sword ablaze and plunging it into the ground. A gout of fire, ten feet high, erupted, filling the whole road driving the three bandits back. Qin Duyi in particular freaked out, shouting at the fire as if to scare it away. "Hold your ground, he can't keep that up!" Jia Liwei shouted, throwing up an arm to shield his face from the heat.
"Watch out, boss!" Xiong Lei called out, dashing behind Jia Liwei, where he heard a
clang. Turning, the bandit leader beheld a sword, not held by anyone, spinning through the air, having been knocked away by Xiong Lei. It soon regained its bearings, retreating through the blaze.
"He can control his Flying Swords without looking at them? Not bad, he's pretty versatile." Jia Liwei chuckled, turning back toward the fire. "Guess that's why he did this- to distract us."
Indeed, the Devil couldn't keep that blaze up for long. After being maintained for only about seconds, his technique ended, revealing the Devil, crouching low in a defensive stance. "You guys are perceptive. Can't you just make it easy on me?" He joked, eyes darting nervously from one opponent to another.
"I'd rather make it easy on
me. Duyi, right side!" Xiong Lei exclaimed, brandishing his weapon and charging at the Devil. Qin Duyi dutifully obeyed, charging on the opposite side, preparing to press their opponent once more.
Jia Liwei was less enthused. Something in his gut was telling him that things weren't right, that he should wait for just one moment. He held his position, not entirely sure why - then the man of bronze struck.
The Devil threw his sword, and Xiong Lei dodged to the side, only to notice too late that something was tied to the sword's hilt. It suddenly veered in a sharp turn, and the Devil drew and threw a second sword, which went out in a curving arc opposite of its counterpart. The two swords, all three of them realized too late, were tied together with rope. Whirling in perfect sync, the two swords wound the rope around both bandits, crushing them into each other and buying the Devil a bit of breathing room.
Taking the fight to Jia Liwei in earnest, he initiated a furious exchange, necessitating the old warrior to focus intently, just to keep up. Each strike he made was defended against and matched with an equally deadly blow, causing what couldn't have been more than fifteen seconds to feel like several minutes. Jia Liwei couldn't help but chuckle - this guy's swordplay had some tiny imperfections, but despite that, it was rock-solid on both defense and offense. It was like a sculpture that wasn't quite finished, but would clearly be beautiful once all of the excess stone was chipped away and the surface was sanded down.
But this wasn't a duel, nor was it a battlefield. Jia Liwei had no intention of entertaining any kind of honest contest. He blocked a diagonal slash on the haft of his axe, kicked his opponent in the midsection to drive him back, then charged forward and followed up with an upward slash that would split the Devil from groin to shoulder.
This was an unusual strike from a long-handled axe, but the fact that it was unusual was what made it so fearsome; it was an avenue of attack the opponent would overlook, like a backdoor only he knew about. Hastily blocking the strike with the flat of his blade, the Devil cried out in shock when he found himself lifted off his feet and flung into the air. Jia Liwei smirked triumphantly; "Guo Shi, now!" he bellowed.
An opponent who had lost a limb was generally one who was finished entirely. If they did not immediately die upon losing the limb, then you could at least count on them not trying anything, as they would be too busy trying to retreat and not die from bloodloss to fight. Given what had happened thus far, it was very, very easy to forget about Guo Shi. The spear-wielding bandit was not courageous, but he was spiteful, and he would go to great lengths to get back at someone who hurt him.
His order was followed without hesitation, and he heard manic laughter behind him as his oldest-surviving subordinate threw his spear. It passed a few feet over the leader's head, goring the Devil in his abdomen mid-air before he could recover and sending him tumbling down the steep hill. Streams of blood followed the man with each bounce, marking his descent like the tail of a comet.
Behind Jia Liwei, the two Flying Swords clattered to the ground, allowing Xiao Lei and Qin Duyi to extricate themselves from the ropes. They approached their leader, as did Guo Shi, who was holding a bloodsoaked rag to the stump of his hand, a look of intense pain on his face. "Hurt me will you!? That's what you fucking get!" He screamed down at the prone body of the Devil.
"Is he dead?" Xiong Lei asked, peering down at the Devil carefully. "Maybe we ought to go down and finish him off just in case."
"Eh, best not to." Jia Liwei replied. "He was more skilled than I expected, and clever too. He could pull something if we give him the chance."
"I say let him die slowly!" Guo Shi shouted, as much at the Devil as to his compatriots. "It's what that scum deserves for what he did to me!"
"Stop being a baby." Jia Liwei commanded, smacking Guo Shi upside the head. "We can probably still reattach your hand. Go have Zou Shen help you before it stiffens."
"Cold hearted and practical as ever." Xiong Lei chuckled, patting Guo Shi on the shoulder sympathetically. "That's why you're the boss."
In the distance, the haunting tunes of the Four Moon Flute finally began to die down, and the silhouettes of the other three Bloody Tusks could be seen in the distance, all seven cows in tow. The old bandit let out a breath of relief, small and quiet enough to not be noticed by the others. Another successful job.
----
Iskander lay there for a while, slowly dying and fighting to stay awake through the bloodloss and the head trauma. One moment seemed to bleed into the next in an unsteady rhythm, and boy, that sure was concerning. It made reflecting on what had just happened even more difficult than it would have been; it wasn't like that blur of violence would be easy to dissect in hindsight anyway.
Seven guys had ambushed Iskander, that much was clear. Well, more like half ambush, half chase - they'd gone ahead and planted traps, then chased him into them, something he shouldn't have let himself fall for. One long range fighter, two mid-range fighters, three close-ranged fighters and one who used beasts; a truly well-constructed team, and one with few if any weaknesses when they worked together.
They'd left him to die slowly instead of approaching to finish him off and steal his stuff - the one whose hand he'd cut off had said it was for revenge, but that probably wasn't all of it. For people living a rough life out in the wilderness, injury wasn't something to trifle with. Most likely, they didn't want to risk a retaliatory injury or death as they took Iskander's life, and so they had let themselves be satisfied with the bulls.
It wasn't until he was absolutely, positively sure that his attackers weren't observing anymore that he dared to move. He groaned in pain as every little motion aggravated the hole in his guts further, but forced himself to push through, rooting around inside of his Compression Pouch until he pulled out a corked glass vial containing a verdant green liquid. This would be the key to his revenge,
Courtesy of Alexios - the alchemist, not the long-dead Nascent Soul - this highly potent elixir was designed specifically for Iskander's use. A compound which sent Wood Qi into a state of hyper-activation while also over-filling the body with energy, drinking it made Iskander's regeneration into something actually worth the name. Alexios had coined it the Second Chance Elixir, but because of the color, Iskander often referred to these little potions as Greenies.
A miracle, here to save Iskander no matter the pinch he got himself into? Hardly; nothing was ever so easy. A Greenie was so potent that it bordered on toxic; anyone without a strong Wood Affinity might find their flesh simply turning into plant matter after drinking this, and anyone without a constantly-active special constitution to make use of the energy it provided might suffer a heart attack.
And on top of all that, Iskander had never had to heal a wound this severe before. It still might not be enough. He tried to put such worries aside as he brought the vial to his mouth and worked the cork out with his teeth. It would either work or it wouldn't, it was all out of his hands now, Iskander thought as the cork came loose with a sharp pop.
Despite the circumstances, the young Devil couldn't help but chuckle. "Determination in the face of death, huh? I don't get it yet, Senior, but maybe this'll help." He soon found that talking had been a mistake, as blood surged up into his mouth and oozed out between his lips. He spat it out, then summoned every ounce of determination he had. "Bottoms up..."
The taste was as awful as the first time. He forced it down anyway, and it burned the whole way through, straight down to his stomach. The pain redoubled, Iskander's whole body shivering as it was overfilled with life. He grit his teeth and lay back, trusting in his body to handle the process. His wounds in particular lit up with agony, as the sensation of impossibly fast cell division one his nerves had no idea how to interpret. It felt as if they were being jabbed with branding irons, but this told Iskander that it was working.
By his own estimation, he healed four to five times faster than an ordinary Golden Devil. With the aid of the Second Chance Elixir, that number skyrocketed to well over twenty. Even so, this would take a while to mend, so he closed his eyes and began to pass the time in the only productive way he could: he thought of plans.
----
The trip out from that mountainside path back to the forested lowlands in which the Bloody Tusks preferred to dwell was an uneventful but nonetheless unpleasant affair. Guo Shi whinged on and on about his injury, as poor thankless Zou Shen stitched the hand back on and treated the wound with herbal concoctions and healing techniques. The limb would probably re-attach without much lasting damage, so long as it didn't take any abuse for two weeks and was treated gingerly for three more. Qin Duyi too was agitated, the burns on his face making him short-tempered and on-edge.
Jia Liwei found himself wound up nearly as tight as he had been leading up to the battle itself. It should have gone smoother than this. They took the man on seven-on-one; they shouldn't have taken a scratch. Perhaps, despite their careful strategy, they had still been too careless; they'd been set on ensuring none of the cows got away before they'd even finished off their enemy, after all. It wasn't just that, though; even after the battle, things weren't as settled as they ought to have been.
The Rock-Crunching Mountain Cows were being
difficult. Most spirit beasts fell under the power of the Sheng Meng's flute without much trouble, but they never entered the lowest layers of absolute thralldom. They were dunked down into the deep waters of their own minds, then began to quickly swim upward, requiring the Beast Artist to suppress them every hour, so that they wouldn't break out entirely and run wild. By Sheng Meng's own hypothesis, it came down to their elemental affinity: Earth is immovable and rigid, hard to mold by nature, and so the cows were the same.
Even so, they arrived; nothing got in the Bloody Tusks' way, and they settled down in the woods. Qin Duyi got to work like the beast of burden he was, borrowing Helm Splitter to chop down a few trees and clear out an area in which to make camp. The cows were pacified again, a campfire was lit, and everyone began setting up their own tents. It was far from the more developed settlement that was their usual home base, but it was good enough for now.
"Stupid cows, making me look bad." Sheng Meng grumbled as he put his flute away after yet another solo. "Boss, you know I'm better than this, right? I'm not messing up, it's the cows!"
"Yes, I know it's the cows." Jia Liwei sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he eased himself into a sitting position on a log. "Quit bitching."
"I'm not bitching, I just need you to understand that I'm not losing my touch, alright?" Sheng Meng replied, turning to glare at the cows. They all stood together in the corner of the camp, motionless and glassy-eyed under the influence of the Four Moon Flute. Every now and then, one of them would become agitated, stomping or shaking its head or calling out to the others, which meant the time had come to pacify them yet again.
"The boss doesn't want to hear it, dog-boy. If this is a fluke, just prove it next time." Xiong Lei called out, looking up from his steaming bowl of porridge. He shoved a bite into his mouth, wincing at the heat a bit. "Bleh, you cooked it too hot, Zou Shen."
"Well excuse me for not having time to craft a masterful dish, oh great Lord Xiong. I've been pretty busy tonight." Zou Shen called out from his tent, where Guo Shi could be heard yelping and complaining.
"Are you sure that stuff is supposed to hurt so much? You're not poisoning me are you?" Guo Shi growled.
"Even if I was, where else would you go?" The alchemist chuckled. "A one-handed spearman is useless."
"I bet I could kick
your pansy ass with just one!"
"But then you'd never get the other one back."
Jia Liwei massaged his temples, trying to block out all of the nonsense going on around them. The problem with being a bandit, beyond the danger inherent to the profession, was that you had to work with bandits. It was a profession that by and large attracted people who had an inclination for violence, yet either couldn't make it in a legitimate organization or had some reason to shun civilization.
It was almost over. Jia Liwei had been preparing for his tribulation for a while now, and all that remained was the resources to stabilize his cultivation base after his ascension, to avoid some kind of catastrophic collapse back into Qi Condensation. Things like that tended to be fatal, after all. A Rock-Crunching Mountain Bull's meat would be absolutely perfect, and he had secured it. All he had to do was hunker down, slaughter the cows, and find a suitable location.
He'd be an Expert. He wouldn't have to get so chummy with two-bit thugs like this. He could join up with a bigger, more powerful gang. Or hell, maybe he could keep going it alone - gather dozens of men under his banner and take the Bloody Tusks to the next level. Power, glory, riches, all of it would fall into his hands. He didn't need those traitorous bastards who'd left him for dead to make it big.
"You know, it's not just the cows, that guy had some good stuff on him. Maybe he was a rich kid." Xiong Lei remarked, picking up a saber from where it had been laying at his side. "Shit, this is better than my sword. Maybe as good as Helm Splitter."
"You wish it was as good as Helm Splitter, kid." Jia Liwei shot back, managing to crack a smile despite the tense mood.
"Alright, fine. But still, it's pretty great." Xiong Lei chuckled, lifting the sword to his face and angling himself so that he could see it better by the firelight. "Frankly, I ought to take both of them; none of you could make use of a sword like this."
Suddenly, the weapon began to shake violently. Without hesitation, Xiong Lei threw it aside, only for it to begin flying through the air of its own volition. As the Bloody Tusks cried out in alarm, Zeng An's bag burst as the second sword flew out, carving a vicious slash across Qin Duyi's face.
The giant screamed fearfully, swinging his fists this way and that. One of his punches collided with a tree, loudly felling it in a single strike and only adding to the noise and confusion. It became clear at that moment that something was terribly wrong. Somehow, they were under attack.
As everyone got to their feet and began looking around for the source of this attack, the first Flying Sword plunged itself, blade-first, into the campfire. Immediately, the flames were absorbed into the blade, until after a few seconds only dim embers remained. Sou Shen tried to save their fire by grabbing the sword, only for it to pull itself from the ground and slash at his hand. Two fingers parted from the rest, sending a screaming Zou Shen running for cover.
Darkness enveloped the campsite, until each man could only see ten feet in front of himself. They instinctively sought out one another, forming into a group as the blades came back around for another go. No more severe injuries followed, only grazes and near-misses, as the more competent melee fighters deflected them or pushed others out of the way.
Still, this precarious position would not last long; they needed a more cool-headed approach, one Jia Liwei thought up fairly fast. "Don't group up, you'll be more vulnerable! Make more distance!" He commanded; a command which was followed right away.
Things began to get less hectic. Little by little, the gang spread themselves outward, drastically reducing the swords' ability to harass them. Soon enough, they were picking out individual targets, and being deflected without too much trouble.
Jia Liwei glared suspiciously into the treeline; what exactly was that Devil thinking? Even if he'd somehow pulled himself together enough to fight, he wouldn't be fully healed. Perhaps this was some futile last-ditch battle? The men of bronze loved those, or so he'd heard.
"Is it the Devil? Where's he attacking from!?" Zeng An cried out, diving out of the way as one of the swords flew by, cleaving through a tree which then crashed down in front of Guo Shi.
"He's crazy if he thinks this'll work; he'll burn out in five minutes!" Sheng Meng exclaimed. "Just keep it up."
"Can't I just start a fire?" Zou Shen called out, ducking behind Qin Duyi's towering frame. "That'll flush him out!"
"That'll just make more problems, dumbass!" Sheng Meng shot back. "You can do all this chemistry but you can't even-"
With one swift motion, it all came tumbling down. A streak of silver cut through the darkness and impaled Sheng Meng through the neck. He looked down in disbelief, unable to comprehend what had happened; that was the last action he ever took. The sword in his neck wrenched itself free, severing his head entirely, and sped off into the darkness, the other two swords following suit.
As Sheng Meng's body crumpled to the ground, the rest of the Bloody Tusks were already in pursuit. Jia Liwei's brain worked a hundred miles an hour as he tried to put together what was going on. But before he could find an answer to his questions, or even figure out what his questions were, something he hadn't even thought to ask about occurred.
Jibber dove straight into Qin Duyi's face, pecking and clawing at him, and Jabber followed soon after, gouging into the massive man's flesh before darting away from his massive palm. Managing to hit nothing but his own face, Qin Duyi's minimal composure broke under the weight of all this trickery. He screamed in fear and rage, swinging his hammer this way and that. He hit Guo Shi on the backswing, sending his fellow bandit flying back into a sturdy tree.
Seeing the flurry of motion, Xiong Lei stopped and ran to Guo Shi, shouting words of concern. Before he could reach his friend he cried out and fell, as Sheng Meng's wolf sunk its teeth into his thigh. He turned and kicked it off him, before drawing his sword and scoring a cruel line of red along the wolf's flank, but it had dodged backward, preventing the blow from fully landing.
That was all Jia Liwei saw from that corner of the camp before his attention was pulled toward the other one. Zou Shen attempted to hit an eagle which circled overhead with his sling to no avail, as it deftly avoided every shot, swooping down in the lulls between his attacks to rake at his face and neck. Zeng An squealed in terror as he tussled with a small pack of rodents, squirrels and mice mostly, who crawled all over him, biting him again and again. Those two were handling this with considerably less competence than the others, which made Jia Liwei consider both helping them out and abandoning them to handle it themselves out of sheer disappointment.
In the end, he chose neither; he would just go kill that fucking Devil. These animals were a major distraction, but not a serious threat to their lives. An actual thinking human who could plot and scheme was far more worth worrying about, and so Jia Liwei ran into the forest to deal with that problem. He pounded ahead, eating up ground with long, heavy strides, his steady breath steaming out of his mouth in the chill, damp night air.
In the middle of all this, Jia Liwei's initial thoughts finished forming: how had that third sword taken them off guard? Because the spinning of the two curved Flying Swords made a lot more noise than the straight lines the straight one moved in, and so they served to hide its movement. So too with the qi signature; with two Flying swords going all over the place leaving faint trails of qi, their qi senses were occupied by all that useless data. Thus, they failed to sense the third sword being readied and launched with either their mundane senses or their spiritual one.
The bandit's pace quickened - an enemy with tactical acumen like that was the worst possible opponent for his idiotic men. Letting this guy attack them again would no doubt lead to more losses, and losing Sheng Meng was already a serious blow. He felt around with his spiritual senses as if he were fumbling around in the dark with his hands, eventually picking up on a signal farther out and to his left. he followed the qi signature like a bloodhound, feeling it grow stronger and stronger -
Wait.
That signature wasn't Ninth Heavenstage.
Like a fleshy, scaled mass of malevolent will, a huge python lashed out from the trees, wrapping around Jia Liwei's body and squeezing with incredible force. He wheezed in pain as his bones creaked and the air was squeezed out of his lungs. Of course, of course it wouldn't be so easy. In all the commotion, he had totally forgotten about where the most dangerous of Sheng Meng's pets would be!
But when? What had that fucking Devil, who couldn't have been older than forty, thought to snatch up a python and plant it as a trap while performing everything else!? Wordlessly roaring in frustration, Jia Liwei grabbed the python with both hands and pulled with all of his strength. Any Bloody Tusk besides him or Qin Duyi would have been killed here, but he was made of sterner stuff. After what felt like an eternity of struggle, Jia Liwei ripped the huge snake in half, showering himself in gore and entrails.
Cursing up a storm, the bandit leader turned away from the treeline, where the Devil was no doubt escaping, and ran back into the camp. It was too late now, too much time had passed. They would never catch that bastard now; not in a dense forest at night, with that much of a head start. By this point, he was certain that Sheng Meng had not been the one to die by coincidence; he had been the target from the beginning, both to make his animals go out of control and to prevent the Bloody Tusks from wrangling their newest catch. It had to be that, it would just be too perfect otherwise. All of that in one fell swoop, from a man who should have been dead.
Oh well, they could pull this back on track - someone in this group had to know how to play a fucking flute...
----
One sword flew into Iskander's right hand, then another into his left, and he sheathed them with one smooth motion. He smiled, remembering when he was too scared to catch a Flying Sword when it was moving; he wasn't an especially prideful person, but he was proud of how he'd improved with these. A moment later, the third sword arrived, and he caught that one too. Alright, that was step one handled pretty smoothly.
He couldn't flee too fast, or he would be heard over the sounds of the violence. He couldn't flee too slowly, or they would locate his position. He took up a pace that could be called a fast creep, or perhaps a sneaky jog, carefully minding where he stepped so as not to break any foliage or rustle any leaves.
Suddenly, there was a rustling in the bushes, and Iskander whirled around, drawing the sword at his left hip as fast as he could, only to come face to face with a prominent pair of horns poking through the foliage. A heavy, rocky body soon followed - that of one of the cows. He blinked several times, not sure what to make of this.
He'd expected the cows to rampage like those other animals, ideally killing at least one of the bandits. He had resigned himself to the fact that he would likely lose at least some of the seven beasts he was tasked to return with, and hoped command would be merciful to him on account of the extreme situation he'd encountered. But they hadn't rampaged at all, seemingly. Or at least, this one hadn't; she'd instead followed Iskander, a man she hadn't known for more than a week, through a dark forest. Why?
Before Iskander could ponder this any further, the cow came closer, raising her head to show him an object in her mouth: A chunk of hard, yellow-gray
something the size of his fist. It radiated a huge amount of qi - all of the excess qi she'd built up in her horns, deposited into this stone. In that case, could it be her equivalent of milk? Though since it was solid, it was more like cheese.
She stepped closer, and he hesitantly held out his hand, into which she deposited the object. Unable to explain that he couldn't use this gift and not wanting to agitate her further, Iskander deposited the gift into a Compression pouch, then reached out to pet the cow's head. It was rough, as expected - like running his hand against a giant callous. She pressed into his palm and closed her eyes, looking weary and afraid.
For a moment, despite the danger, despite the obvious trail the cow had no doubt left crashing through the forest, Iskander remained, transfixed by this moment of deeply honest vulnerability. Then, reluctantly, he pulled away, only for the cow to take a few steps forward and gingerly lean her side against him. Her weight was such that the Devil, not expecting this, nearly toppled over from the gentle contact. "Jeez, you guys really aren't violent at all, are you? I was a bit scared of you at first because you're all so big and loud, but you're nicer than most humans."
He paused. If this was dangerous before, it was bordering on suicidal by this point; he had to go. Iskander sighed and patted the cow's side. "I have to go now. I can't stay here; if they all come and fight me head on I won't stand a chance." He pulled away again, prompting an agitated huff from the beast that flattened the grass beneath her head. "I can't take you guys with me yet, but I promise I'll come back for you. That's a promise, you hear me? I keep my promises, no matter what!"
With that, Iskander took off into the woods faster than the cow could hope to follow, leaving her behind - for now.
----
And here we come to the end of chapter two. The action truly begins, showing the difference between a fight where Iskander is taken off-guard and a fight where he takes the enemy off-guard. This is his true strength as a warrior; his tactics. As the turns go on and Iskander grows in power and experience, these strange but effective tricks he pulls will only grow in complexity. You are going to see Flying Swords do shit you've never seen them do before, especially when he gets to the point where he can control five at once.
Other than that, I was able to have many more moments of the Bloody Tusks bantering with one another. As I said previously, I'm trying to give each of them a different personality, so that I can write some really dynamic group scenes. On the other hand, I'm worried that introducing this many characters at once will make it hard to remember who is who. I've gone back to these scenes repeatedly to try and mitigate that issue, so hopefully it won't be too bad. I was tempted to just give them code names based on their weapons to dodge this problem altogether, but that seemed like it would feel too artificial.
The cows aren't sapient creatures, so I'm limited in my idea to make them actual characters, but I did want them to nonetheless have some degree of characterization. I have a soft spot for strong-willed gentle giant types; I often include them in my stories, and I suppose this is a whole species of them. Them being unusually smart is... honestly just there to facilitate the plot; it's necessary to make certain things fit together, like Iskander being given the Rock-Crunching Cheese or them being hard to hypnotize so that the Bloody Tusks are slow to move them. Maybe being born with an innate technique requires you to develop a certain level of intelligence so as to not kill yourself with it?
