The Visit – Peng Family (彭家) Qi (奇) (4)
Jimin turned and began climbing the wooden stairs she had just descended.
Her steps were steady.
Tok, tok—she had not taken even three steps when a terrifying gust of force exploded behind her.
A chilling pressure tore through the air.
For an instant, she thought, This is where I die, and instinctively shrank her body.
But she was not the target.
Peng Qi had already leapt.
He kicked off the first-floor railing and shot upward.
He brushed the second-floor railing in passing, then reached the third and thrust the door open.
The entire sequence unfolded within a single breath.
"I came to see you—why do you refuse?"
Soun closed his book with the page he had been reading turned downward and rose from his seat.
He was a small boy.
The faint scent of ink lingered in the room from the texts he had been reading and the characters he had written.
There was not the slightest aura of a martial artist about him.
If not for the sword hanging on the wall, he could easily have been mistaken for a pale-faced scholar.
"I merely wished to meet you. Is there a reason to make it so costly?"
"Do you know me?"
"I have heard rumors. That you are a master of the Transcendent Realm."
"Did it not occur to you that you might lose your life if you made a mistake?"
The moment the words lose your life were spoken, the air shifted.
Soun had struck directly at Peng Qi's pride.
"…You—"
Peng Qi clenched his fists, trembling.
His anger was naked and undisguised.
A master of the Transcendent Realm? This was merely a young boy who showed not the faintest trace of cultivated martial power.
If he crushed him here, his fame would rise.
If it ended in a draw, he would lose nothing.
If he lost, he could say he had been defeated by a master of the Transcendent Realm.
There would be no shame.
There was nothing to lose, no reason to retreat.
But calculation was overtaken by rage.
Never in his life had Peng Qi imagined the possibility of being beaten to death.
"Though I may be lacking, I am the head of the Peng Family. Is it not proper that I receive the courtesy befitting my station?"
"You consider it courtesy to burst into the room of someone who does not wish to see you, Head of the Peng Family? My standards for meeting people are clear. I have no interest in associating with ruffian brawlers. Ask anywhere under heaven—it would be the same. People meet you because they fear you or find you troublesome. None meet you sincerely."
As Soun spoke those words, Jimin reached the top of the stairs.
Moments later, Peng Qi's five direct disciples rushed up as well.
That sight poured oil onto the fire.
His dignity had already been shaken by the exchange.
In front of his disciples, retreat was impossible.
He needed something—anything—to reverse the situation.
Fury blazed across his face.
With a sharp hiss, Peng Qi moved to draw his blade.
His right hand twisted toward his left, gripping the hilt—
But the sword never left its sheath.
At some point, Soun had already closed the distance.
In his hand was a brush.
The brush tip touched Peng Qi's Tiāntū (天突) acupoint at the throat.
Black ink spread across the vital spot.
With the slightest additional force, it would have been fatal.
The strength drained from Peng Qi's hand.
He had not even seen it happen.
Somewhere in that instant, Soun had taken a brush from beneath the wall and marked his throat.
It was beyond fast.
It was as though Soun had already known his movement.
For the first time in his life, Peng Qi felt it clearly—
I could die.
Soun applied just a little pressure.
Peng Qi staggered back, yet the piercing sensation did not fade.
On his throat remained a black mark the size of a thumbnail.
He had not even drawn his blade before his momentum collapsed.
Silence fell.
Peng Qi's stunned face.
His five disciples, even more stunned.
He fully grasped the gap in their abilities.
The blade he had boasted as invincible had not even left its sheath.
Before he could draw it, the boy had stepped in and marked his throat.
A fraction more force, and his life would have ended.
"Return. If even the slightest harm comes to me or to the General's household, I will sweep the Hebei Peng Family (彭家) from existence. Hebei (河北) itself will forget your name. Do not throw away your life for the sake of petty pride.
As you know, I am a scholar preparing for the metropolitan examination. I am busy. I wish to associate with those of good temperament and upright character—not with someone as base and petty as you.
Seeing how you burst in despite being refused, I suspect you have often imposed unfair demands upon the weak. I am no fortune-teller, so reflect on it yourself. If there are ventures conducted in that manner, reduce them. If not, one day I will visit Hebei and see for myself. If nothing has changed, it will not end with a mere ink mark.
That mark will not disappear unless you peel away your skin. I considered leaving a brand, but I showed restraint. Take your disciples and leave at once."
Soun turned toward the window.
Peng Qi's hands trembled violently.
For an instant, a thought flashed—if he drew his weapon now, while Soun's back was turned, perhaps he might seize a slim chance.
Conflict tore through him.
A bead of sweat slid down to his chin.
"Urgh—!"
It was neither a sob nor a sigh, but something twisted between the two.
Peng Qi collapsed onto the floor.
He had begun to raise his internal energy, then halted abruptly; the sudden check caused his qi and blood to surge in reverse.
His five disciples hurried forward, lifting him and carrying him out.