Volume Two, Chapter Twenty-Four: The Man in Yellow

“So comfortable! Brother, I never expected you to have such a skill.” Meng Fang felt a cool sensation spreading from his wound, and the pain became much less intense. He couldn’t help but praise him.

But now, running with a limp, he was much slower. In any open area, the danger increased dramatically.

As they ran, suddenly their surroundings brightened. They had emerged from the forest and found themselves in the middle of a dry riverbed.

No wonder the man in yellow had attacked so fiercely earlier—it was to drive them here. The two had been too focused on the relentless assault to notice the terrain ahead. Now, it was too late to turn back.

The riverbed was at least forty or fifty meters wide; crossing to the other side would take time. What should they do?

As they hesitated, the bronze cymbals arrived, both weapons cutting through the air toward them. Dodging was impossible now.

It was over—

The two closed their eyes, waiting for death.

In this moment between life and death, a metallic crash rang out, followed by a thunderous, furious shout from above: “Who dares to meddle? Show yourself and return this hall’s twin cymbals!”

The two opened their eyes to find that the cymbals threatening to split them had vanished. Looking around, they saw nothing. Only Yu Mu, in a daze, seemed to glimpse a flash of white disappearing into the distance—perhaps just a trick of the eye.

The man in yellow, now empty-handed, searched frantically and had no time for the two. A cultivator’s magical weapon is like an extension of their own body; to have it suddenly snatched away was intolerable.

Yet for someone to seize his life-bound weapon so effortlessly, their strength must far surpass his own. The man in yellow blustered outwardly, but inwardly he was shaken. He only dared protest because he was on his own territory, with reinforcements nearby. Otherwise, he would have fled in disgrace.

If they didn’t escape now, when would they?

Meng Fang didn’t hesitate. With a few bounding steps, he crossed the riverbed and vanished into the dense woods beyond.

The man in yellow, unable to retrieve his weapon and seeing his quarry escape, was furious, venting all his rage on the two.

Having lost his weapon, the man in yellow’s attacks were much less powerful. But his hatred for the two had reached its peak, and he could not let them go. Lowering his altitude, he attacked with fists and feet.

Though his martial arts lacked the deadly force of the twin cymbals, they were still a grave threat. Seeing his foe descend, Meng Fang swung his axe fiercely at the air.

The unexpected blow caught his opponent off guard, forcing the man in yellow to dodge. The blade wind grazed his scalp, shattering his hat and scattering his topknot.

Terrified by this close call, the man in yellow shot skyward once more.

The blow left him battered, but he was no novice like the Twin Sisters of the Way. His combat experience was vast, and soon he had gauged the range of Meng Fang’s axe strikes. Once again, Yu Mu’s side was back to simply enduring a beating.

Fortunately, the distance meant that even if they were hit, the attacks weren’t instantly fatal. But if this kept up, they wouldn’t last long.

In truth, if the man in yellow dared to come down and fight with all his might, even barehanded, he could easily kill Yu Mu and Meng Fang. But he feared dropping too low and being ambushed. So, he had no choice but to try and wear them down from above.

“This won’t do,” Yu Mu thought, swallowing down the blood welling in his chest after another punch. “But what can I do to fight back? Brother Meng excels at close combat, but his axe can’t reach that far. I’m useless except for that strange pink mist, and even that can’t travel such a distance. How can I… Wait! What if I try this?”

A sudden flash of inspiration struck Yu Mu. He opened his mouth and spat out a peach pit—his inner core. A pale pink spiritual aura swirled around the core, the source of his mysterious powder.

Gripping his staff, Yu Mu spat the peach pit into the air, then swung with all his might. The core arced upwards, whistling toward the man in yellow.

This was a technique from his past life—a baseball skill—applied in this world in a moment of desperation.

Such a purely physical attack posed no threat to the man in yellow, who swatted the pit aside with a sneer.

But just as the man raised his hand, Yu Mu willed it, and a burst of powder erupted from the core, enveloping the man in yellow.

Startled, he hurriedly flew clear of the mist, checking himself up and down. Finding nothing unusual, he burst into laughter. “Petty tricks! You think to scare your master with such little sorcery? Take this!”

He was just about to strike when he suddenly cried out, “No! You little wretch, what a vicious trick—!” And, swaying, he sped away.

“Brother, what did you just do?” Meng Fang, still running for their lives, hadn’t seen what Yu Mu had done, but he clearly heard the man in yellow’s words as he fled.

“Brother Meng, now’s not the time for talk—we should get out of here fast.”

“Right! Hold on tight.” With that, Meng Fang broke into a run.

Yu Mu’s skill was impossible to explain, and to be honest, he didn’t truly understand its effects or what harm it might cause.

For now, while their enemy was forced to retreat, finding a hiding place was most important. Last time, the Twin Sisters of the Way had recovered from the pink mist after a short while. The man in yellow was far more powerful; he’d likely recover and give chase soon.

Gradually, Meng Fang’s injury stopped affecting his movements, and he regained his full speed. Before long, they had covered more than ten miles.

“This should be safe.” Panting, Meng Fang slumped under a large tree and set Yu Mu down.

They sat, and Yu Mu first retrieved the branches and leaves. He looked at Meng Fang’s leg wound—it had already begun to heal.

“Brother, your ability is even more impressive than your inner space. You’ve got the skills of a whole healer and apothecary wrapped up in one. Ha! You’re like a walking medicine hall, plus a big blue potion bottle. Amazing—even better than me!” Meng Fang joked, morphing his head into a bull’s in jest.

Yu Mu couldn’t help but laugh heartily at the sight.

Meng Fang took out a few bottles of pills, poured some out, and handed some to Yu Mu. “These are all for healing and restoring energy. Not as good as your peaches, but they’re something.”

He tossed back his pills, and Yu Mu followed suit. As the medicine took effect, spiritual energy slowly went to work, replenishing strength and repairing wounds—though the process was sluggish and faint.

Yu Mu had a thought. He reached into his robe and took out some dried fruit and several jars of wine—the provisions they’d packed at the Drunken Hermit’s place.