Volume One: The Emperor's Edict Chapter Twenty-Three: In the Blink of an Eye

It seems I have no choice but to fight to the death.

Liu Xiaoyi lowered his sword, spreading his feet for balance. In front of him stood Chu Chunqiu with his iron fans; behind, Xie Dongting, hands clasped behind his back. Escape was all but impossible.

Only a desperate battle might offer the faintest chance at survival. His left hand clutched the scabbard so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Not long after he fled, skilled fighters from the city guard had also climbed onto the roof, but killers leaping from all around blocked them, preventing aid.

Xie Dongting studied the youth who had pursued Chu Chunqiu, puzzled. The twin iron fans were no child’s play—how could a boy of fifteen or sixteen drive him to such a sorry plight?

"I never kill nameless wretches. Take your own life and I’ll leave your body whole," Xie Dongting declared arrogantly, prideful in his unmatched agility. Such a youth was beneath his notice.

Liu Xiaoyi sneered. "The Eight Swordsmen—nothing but empty fame. Wait till I’m your age—if all of you came at me together, I’d cut you down!"

"Bold words for a brat. Chu, will you do it, or shall I?"

Chu Chunqiu knew well what his companion was thinking. If he spoke, he’d owe a favor. The Eight Swordsmen maintained a delicate balance before the Crown Prince, each checking the others. He wished to stay out of it, but now had no choice.

"Old Xie, finish this quickly. Don’t waste time."

"Good! That’s all I needed to hear!" In an instant, Xie Dongting’s figure became mist; his voice drifted like a phantom. A pebble zipped past Liu Xiaoyi’s left ear, another struck the blade of the Peach Blossom Sword.

He looked left and right but saw no trace of his foe. More pebbles shot from all directions, striking his joints almost simultaneously. Liu Xiaoyi was knocked from the eaves in a bizarre arc, blue roof tiles crashing to the ground.

Too fast to see—he couldn’t even glimpse the attack!

"You’re supposed to be a swordsman—why not draw your blade?"

Shaking off dust and tile fragments in the courtyard, Liu Xiaoyi cursed through clenched teeth. The stabbing pain in his joints filled him with despair.

"You think I need a sword to deal with you?" The voice seemed everywhere at once. A glint of cold steel darted toward Liu Xiaoyi’s left temple. He jerked his head aside, dropped flat, and rolled clear of a sweeping strike as the blade embedded itself in a wooden pillar.

The sword trembled and stuck fast; Xie Dongting’s form paused, becoming visible.

Now! Liu Xiaoyi summoned the last of his inner power, gripped his sword with both hands, and met the coming blow head-on.

Xie Dongting didn’t dodge. He raised his right arm to block. The sword split his sleeve, exposing an armguard.

Whatever that armguard was made of, Liu Xiaoyi’s blade left not the faintest mark.

Disaster! Liu Xiaoyi’s lack of battle experience showed—he hadn’t expected the armguard. His hesitation earned him a palm strike to the left shoulder, sending him staggering back and dropping the Peach Blossom Sword.

His blood and energy churned wildly, his inner power in chaos.

If a fifteen-year-old could shine here, the martial world would be a joke.

Xie Dongting, unhurried, retrieved the sword from the pillar. "Not bad, boy! You’ve some strength—good thing for my cold-iron armor."

The cold moonlight slanted through the jagged eaves, the armguard shimmering with a blue gleam.

What now? Liu Xiaoyi felt that old helplessness return—his opponent surpassed him in speed, experience, and cultivation.

"Scared now? Dying by my hand is a worthy end for you," Xie Dongting said, raising his blade for the kill.

"Picking on the weak—how distasteful, truly distasteful."

Xie Dongting felt his sword blocked by something invisible. He missed his target, and in the next instant, pale marks appeared on his clothes, front and back.

He didn’t know who had intervened, but it was clearly a master. Xie Dongting hurriedly employed his footwork, darting about the ten-pace courtyard in a deadly game of evasion.

"Stop right there! An old man can’t run forever!" The voice was tinged with mischief. After five breaths, Xie Dongting paused in the center, then suddenly flew backward, crashing through a room.

The courtyard was deserted; the owners had long since fled, leaving the fighters free reign.

Liu Xiaoyi watched, transfixed. The one who’d struck was an elderly man with graying hair, holding the Peach Blossom Sword in one hand, the other poised to strike.

He wore a patchwork shirt common among the beggars of Changle City, a chaotic jumble of mismatched fabrics. His long, greasy hair hung in tangles, beard and eyebrows merging to obscure most of his face.

From the inner room came a clatter as smooth stones flew out—special throwing weapons, heavy and round, capable of bruising flesh with a single hit.

The old beggar let out a strange cry, swiping the sword with his left hand, blocking and slashing in turn, each strike meeting a stone. His swordplay was even faster.

Liu Xiaoyi’s eyes blurred. In the old man’s grip, the Peach Blossom Sword moved so fast it became a flickering blur, as if wielded by a madman.

No matter the angle, every flying stone was precisely batted back by the old beggar. The arm thrust from his ragged sleeve was sinewy, veins bulging, the force of the flying stones so great it bent the blade.

"A fine sword, truly a treasure. Pity the one who wields it is so timid."

Every thrown stone was returned along its original path, smashing beams and shattering plaster throughout the courtyard.

Xie Dongting dared not emerge again, hiding in the shadows, eyebrows twitching wildly. He knew too well the speed of those flying stones. Even he couldn’t parry them with a sword—not only did it demand speed, but perfect aim. Otherwise, the blade would be chipped in an instant.

"Whoever’s inside, good throwing. Practice more when you get home!"

"Old bastard! You’ve ruined my plans tonight—this isn’t over!" Xie Dongting dared not linger, worried the commotion would affect affairs at Yongle Lane.

He leapt for the window, but as he vaulted out, three sharp cracks sounded from behind. He dodged two of the projectiles, but the third—a broken brick—struck his waist, drawing a grimace of pain. He slapped his side and staggered away.

Only when he’d vanished did the beggar toss aside the brick. "Boy, did you see how a fight is won?"

"Senior, I’ll never forget your life-saving grace—"

"Enough of that. I see your heart wavers. You have skill, but you can’t bring it out, wasting this sword." The old beggar wrapped the Peach Blossom Sword in the rag at his waist and slung it over his back.

"It’s wasted in your hands. I’ll safeguard it for a while."

He wants to take my sword? Liu Xiaoyi was furious and about to protest. "Senior, why do you take my sword?"

The beggar puffed out his cheeks, holding his breath for a long moment. Suddenly, the Peach Blossom Sword on his back shone gold—a massive dragon’s head appeared, locking eyes with Liu Xiaoyi.

The Sovereign’s Token! Liu Xiaoyi fumbled for the token hidden close to his heart, only to find the dragon carving on it missing a claw.

"If you can’t swing a sword without hesitation, it’s useless in your hands. I’ll give you three months—if you haven’t changed by then, the sword is truly lost to you."

The old beggar waved goodbye, striding from the courtyard to the shattered front gate in a single step—a distance at least ten strides for an ordinary man.

"Senior! How will I find you in three months?" The words were barely out when the old beggar had already vanished, his speed astonishing.

With a soft flutter, several yellowed, grease-stained sheets of paper dropped from above, which Liu Xiaoyi caught.

On the most prominent sheet, three crooked words: *Roving Dragon Force*, the ink still fresh—clearly just written.