The tide of forty men crashed against the girl in the golden dress.
The stolen saber hummed through the hot air. Yù Méi did not strike elegant poses or recite techniques. The teenager used the weapon as an extension of her own arm, twisting her waist and throwing her entire body weight into every strike.
The front line fell quickly. The weaker guards could not stop the blade. The steel tore through leather and sliced necks with ease. Blood sprayed high, staining the black stone ground with red puddles.
In the middle of the dust, Yù Méi did not stop. Her golden dress was heavy, soaked in blood, and clung to her skin. Her dirty blonde hair fell over her face. She killed and advanced, her eyes shining with hunger for more slaughter, feeling her body alive and ravenous.
But the ease of steel found a limit.
The dead made way for the veterans of the guard post. Eight older men emerged from the smoke. Their skin was dark and thick, hardened by decades of stagnation at the Seventh Mortal Stage. They were the physical peak of that border.
One of the old men advanced and thrust a heavy spear toward the girl's stomach.
Yù Méi pivoted on her heel in the red earth and stepped off the line. She raised the saber and brought the blade down with all her strength, aiming exactly at the junction of the guard's neck and shoulder.
The sound was dry.
The cheap metal of the weapon struck the veteran's hardened skin and did not cut. The blade bent with a sharp screech and shattered in the middle. Pieces of steel flew into the dust.
Yù Méi looked at the broken hilt in her own hand for a fraction of a second.
She did not take a step back. The smile on her dirty face widened, feverish.
Yù Méi dropped the broken saber to the ground and advanced.
The first veteran tried to retreat, but she was already on top of him. Her left hand grabbed the leather straps of his armor and locked the man in place. Her right fist closed and struck directly into the middle of his chest.
The first punch sounded like a sledgehammer hitting thick wood. The armor caved in. The veteran gagged. She pulled her arm back and struck again. And again. They were short, hard punches. On the fourth punch, his chest bone cracked. On the fifth, his ribs collapsed, piercing his lungs. He coughed up dark blood and stopped fighting.
Yù Méi opened her left hand. The guard fell dead on the black stone, his chest completely destroyed.
Fear lodged in the throats of the remaining seven veterans. Their weapons trembled in their hands as they stared at the woman in the middle of the blood.
They did not retreat. On the contrary. The seven men moved together, surrounding her. Two spears came from below, aiming for her legs. Two more came from above, seeking her chest. Yù Méi dodged the first, but the second grazed her left arm. The iron tip tore the sleeve of her golden dress and opened a deep scratch on her skin. Hot blood ran down her arm.
She growled in pain and anger. She grabbed the nearest spear with her left hand and pulled hard. The veteran stumbled forward. Yù Méi twisted her body and brought her elbow down with full force on the back of his neck. The man dropped to his knees, but before she could finish the strike, another spear struck her back. The fabric of her dress tore across her back, and pain burned across her skin. She felt hot blood run down her ribs.
They gave her no space.
Whenever she tried to focus on one, two or three others attacked from the side or behind. She dodged on instinct, kicked, punched, and grabbed whatever she could. Her style was raw and uncoordinated. The golden dress, already heavy with blood, began tearing in multiple places — on the left sleeve, across the back, on the side of her thigh. Every glancing blow opened another hole in the fabric and left a red scratch on the exposed skin.
One of the men brought a heavy axe down toward her head. Yù Méi raised her left arm on reflex. The steel struck her hyper-dense bone and ricocheted with a screech. Pain shot up her arm like fire. She took advantage of the man's moment of imbalance, grabbed the front of his armor, and pulled with all her strength. The veteran's head met her knee.
The impact broke the man's nose with a wet crack. He staggered backward, bleeding.
Yù Méi had no time to celebrate. Another spear grazed her right thigh. The fabric of her dress tore along the side of her leg, and another scratch appeared. She spun, furious, and landed a punch on the chest of the man who attacked her. The veteran flew backward, crashing into two companions, but got up coughing, still alive.
They were tough.
Much tougher than the previous guards.
Even so, Yù Méi did not slow her pace. Her chest rose and fell, but it was not fatigue — it was excitement. Sweat mixed with blood ran down her face, but her movements remained precise and violent. The scratches burned, her dress tore, but her body did not weaken. Her open pores absorbed energy from the air without pause, feeding her forged muscles and bones.
The seven remaining veterans surrounded her again, more cautious now. The spears pointed in her direction trembled slightly in their hands.
Yù Méi wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. The smile that appeared on her face was wild and hungry.
— More — she murmured, hoarse. — Give me more.
While Yù Méi wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, a sudden chill ran up the back of her neck.
High above, at the top of the black stone staircase, the sect's patience ran out. An Inner Court Elder, wearing a gray robe, stopped at the top of the steps. The old man was at the Eighth Mortal Stage. He looked down at the courtyard and saw his guards retreating and trembling before a blood-covered girl.
Anger wrinkled the elder's face. He raised his aged hand.
— Boiling Rock Seal — the old man whispered.
The air around him heated and swirled, forming a tight ball of hot energy in his palm. It was not the strongest technique of his life, but it was heavy enough to melt the flesh of a dozen guards at once.
With a flick of his wrist, the old man threw it.
The ball shot toward Yù Méi's head. The girl had just dropped the veteran's body. She did not even have time to blink before the attack arrived.
Fifteen steps away, the Mobile Palace remained stopped.
On the driver's seat, Zhì Yuǎn kept his hands loose on the leather reins. He did not draw a weapon or form any hand seals. He simply looked forward.
The air a palm's width from Yù Méi's face hardened like a sheet of glass.
The elder's energy ball struck the invisible barrier directly. The impact made a hollow, dry sound. The spell burst and turned to dust at the same instant, never reaching the girl.
The strong wind from the impact threw Yù Méi backward. The teenager locked her legs and steadied herself. The soles of her boots tore across the stone ground and kicked up red earth for ten full steps before she managed to stop.
The dust settled.
Yù Méi slowly raised her head. Her chest rose and fell. She spat on the ground. There wasn't a single scratch left on her body — not even the ones the veterans had opened during the fight. Her skin had already regenerated completely.
She turned her face toward the carriage. Her gaze met Zhì Yuǎn's for a second. There was something new in the girl's eyes — a mixture of shock, reverence, and an almost desperate hunger.
The smile on the girl's dirty mouth returned, even wider than before. She turned her face back toward the seven remaining veterans, ready for the slaughter.
At the top of the stairs, the old man took a step back.
The shock wiped the anger from his face at once. The elder's eyes widened. His mind failed to understand how the attack had turned to dust in the wind without striking any visible barrier.
The fear on the old man's face lasted only a single breath. The shock gave way to a red, hysterical rage.
The Elder descended the first step of the stone staircase, striking his boot hard. His wounded pride demanded a real culprit, refusing to believe that the girl below had anything to do with the invisible barrier.
— Who is hiding there?! — the elder roared, his rough voice scraping the walls of the gorge. — Breaking the laws of the Unique Path to protect this plague and staying in the shadows is cowardice! Show yourself!
In the dust of the road, Yù Méi wiped her blood-stained chin with the back of her hand.
She completely ignored the old man's search for a hidden master. The girl clenched her red-stained teeth, raised her arm, and pointed her index finger — knuckles skinned and raw — directly at the wrinkled elder's face.
— You black-stone dogs! — Yù Méi's scream tore through the air. — I came to collect the blood of my parents that you burned alive!
Yù Méi's breathing was heavy, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms.
— I came to take the heads of the dogs you sent to kill my parents and my grandmother! — her voice cracked with fury, the echo striking the sect's wall. — Come down all at once! Your carcasses will serve as fertilizer for this volcano's soil!
At the top of the staircase, the old man stopped searching for intruders in the shadows.
His white eyebrows drew together. The lord's hysterical rage collided with genuine confusion. The man lowered his hand, the fury giving way to a grumpy, mocking irritation.
— Qīngshān? — the old man repeated the name, wrinkling his nose. He turned his face and spat on the stone step. — What kind of mud hole is that? The Unique Path Sect does not dirty its weapons with nameless villages that do not even appear on our tribute maps.
The old man pointed his twisted finger back at the blood-covered girl.
— You knocked on the wrong door, brat. We do not exterminate nameless rats. You are a mad bitch barking at the wrong mountain.
The lord's dry, mocking laughter hung over the dust, but the echo died quickly.
The rhythmic, heavy sound of iron boots striking stone descended from the inner courtyard. A second group emerged from the thick smoke at the top of the staircase, silencing the old man at once.
Twelve red-armored guards descended the black stone staircase, marching in sync. In their midst walked a man.
The first elder closed his mouth immediately. He lowered his head, his face losing color, and took a step back, clearing the way.
Elder Gāo descended the final steps. The man did not look like a monster. He wore a clean red robe that did not raise dust when it touched the obsidian. His face was serene, with the patience and calm of a grandfather.
He stopped. His tranquil gaze swept over Yù Méi's golden dress, soaked in blood. Then the old man's eyes rose, crossing the road to the massive wooden carriage and the couple seated on the driver's seat. He had no exact descriptions or names in mind. He only knew he was looking for a couple who lived in isolation. Looking at the pair waiting in the carriage while the girl fought, the old man reached his conclusion at once.
Gāo raised his wrinkled hand and smoothed the sleeve of his own robe, brushing away dirt that did not exist.
— Qīngshān — Elder Gāo's voice came out polite and soft. — A small name for such a noisy problem.
Yù Méi clenched her teeth. The girl's breathing caught. She closed her blood-stained, empty hands so tightly that her nails hurt her own palms. The man who had ordered her house burned and her parents killed was standing there, smiling just a few steps away.
Elder Gāo looked at her with a compassionate smile.
— I apologize for my colleague's ignorance. Our sect does not usually memorize the names of anthills — Gāo explained, clasping his hands behind his back. — A few months ago, my grandson Gāo Láng went hunting in the forest of your region. His leave period ended a few weeks ago. Since he did not return, I sent my guards to investigate his whereabouts.
The old man sighed and slowly shook his head.
— They followed the trails to the bamboo grove in your courtyard. When I descended to the village to speak, the mortals were very stubborn. And the old wood of those roofs caught fire very quickly.
Yù Méi squeezed her fists until the cartilage cracked. The old man's confession made everything clear: her parents had been burned alive simply because of a routine interrogation.
— Burning your village was not out of hatred — Gāo tilted his head, very politely. — It was simply a consequence of me searching for whoever killed my grandson.
Gāo extended his pale hand toward Yù Méi, palm up.
— I left that letter thinking I would have to wait a long time to find the owners of the cabin. It is a relief to see that you came to deliver the debt to our door — the elder's smile widened. — The red earth of this volcano is very fertile, girl. I will make it even richer with your blood.