The Reticent Blade-Chapter 138 - The Bloody Flying Mallard (Part Five)

Ye Beizhi had struggled to hold his ground under Lin Jiulao's relentless assault for a long time, but at last, he found a small opening within the flurry of blade shadows.

Without hesitation, he struck out with a lethal thrust. Lin Jiulao never expected Ye Beizhi to possess such a technique, and before he could even be amazed, the Tang blade was already aimed at his face.

"I don’t need to learn," Ye Beizhi said softly, the Tang blade in his hand maintaining its deadly trajectory.

Lin Jiulao had no time to ponder Ye Beizhi's words. He immediately tilted his head back and bent his waist, the blade grazing the tip of his nose as it passed.

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Lin Jiulao grunted as he quickly straightened up, sweeping his zhanmadao horizontally!

Ye Beizhi swiftly withdrew his blade and leapt away after he missed his mark, narrowly avoiding the attack. A sharp gust of wind from the sweep cut through his clothing, sending a few strips of fabric fluttering in the wind.

"I've never learned any blade techniques either." Ye Beizhi's voice drifted into Lin Jiulao's ears with the wind.

"Stop mumbling! What exactly are you trying to say?!"

Ye Beizhi was now suppressing Lin Jiulao at every turn. Lin Jiulao's frustration with the situation was boiling over. His wide, sweeping moves were difficult to execute in the dense forest, and was now Ye Beizhi spouting incomprehensible words that intensified his irritation.

Ye Beizhi lightly stepped on the back of Lin Jiulao's blade, using the momentum to flip over his opponent once more, slashing toward Lin Jiulao's neck.

Clang!

Lin Jiulao swiftly retracted his weapon and deflected the Tang blade just in time. Seeing that Ye Beizhi had lost his momentum, he immediately thrust the zhanmadao forward, aiming to pierce straight through Ye Beizhi’s torso.

"I was just thinking..."

It was rare for Ye Beizhi to speak so much to a stranger. Despite lacking any apparent leverage, he forcibly twisted his body, his waist skimming along the incoming blade.

He spun around, dodging the thrust, and with the momentum of the turn, swung his Tang blade horizontally toward Lin Jiulao's neck again.

Lin Jiulao didn't expect Stormqueller to be so ruthless. Each strike was aimed at one of his vital points; each strike could kill him.

Seeing the Tang blade closing in again, he quickly leapt backward out of the clearing they were fighting in, trying to catch his breath. Before he could steady himself, his vision blurred, and he heard Ye Beizhi's voice by his ear.

"Shi Wufeng definitely didn’t tell you..."

An icy chill suddenly fell upon Lin Jiulao's neck, causing goosebumps to rise on his skin. He knew that chill well; it was the edge of the blade.

"Wha... what?" Lin Jiulao's mouth hung slightly open, his mind blanking out momentarily.

"I only know the art of killing, I never learned any blade techniques."

The air was filled with a scent that Ye Beizhi knew all too well... the unique smell of death, just like that day.

In his memories, that timeless day neither had sun nor clouds. The sky was covered by a sea of yellow sand, and the persistent cold wind carried a scent that Ye Beizhi would never forget... It was death.

***

There was complete silence around him. The sounds of battle cries, galloping hooves, and clashing swords had all faded away before he knew it. The strong wind whistled in his ears like a chorus of weeping.

Ye Beizhi propped himself up with his sword and stood, his legs feeling unsteady. He staggered, nearly collapsing again.

He looked out over the endless yellow sands, where countless bodies streaked the landscape... Some were from Northern Qiang, others were from the Flying Mallard Battalion. Aside from him, no one else was left standing.

"Haaa."

Ye Beizhi stared at the scene before him, his mouth agape, his throat emitting a hollow sound like he was gasping for air. The sand beneath his feet had turned into a thick and sticky, reddish-brown paste. When he stepped on it, a red liquid seeped out... the sand was brimming with blood.

Ye Beizhi staggered through the piles of corpses, occasionally turning over a body to check its face. Eventually, he came upon a battle flag lying in a pool of blood, and he finally stopped walking.

The flag lay in the bloody sand, with a hole torn in the middle. Messy hoofprints were trod all across it, making it appear filthy. The character for Mallard had been sliced in half, making it appear even more incongruous to the flag he was used to seeing.

However, there was a hand that gripped the flagpole tightly, even in death.

It belonged to the commander, Niu Dayong.

Ye Beizhi froze, standing there blankly as he stared at his commander's corpse. His gaze was vacant, as if he had lost his soul.

His legs gave way, and he collapsed to his knees.

Thud—

He reached out with a trembling hand to touch the commander's waist. There was a deep sword wound that revealed the weathered man's spine had been cut in two.

This was the first time Ye Beizhi had seen his commander injured from behind, and he hadn't expected the first time to have such fatal consequences.

His commander was dead.

When Ye Beizhi finally realized this, he couldn't help but recall what the weathered man had once said to him. "Kill all the people in front of you who want to kill you, and the last one standing will be you."

"There are no more enemies in front of me who can kill me, so I survived. But why did you die?

You understood this better than I did. I thought you would outlive me..."

Ye Beizhi's hand resting on the commander's back was stained with blood, and his eyes were filled with confusion.

"Was it because you finally showed your back to the enemy? But... why?"

It was a question destined to remain unanswered.

Ye Beizhi lay beside the commander's corpse for an unknown amount of time when he heard faint hoofbeats approaching from a distance and gradually drew closer.

He heard a voice say, "The entire battalion was wiped out? Did the Flying Mallard Battalion fail to hold off the Northern Qiang barbarians?"

Another voice replied after a moment, as if surveying the battlefield, "No, that's not right. If they hadn't held them off, we would have encountered Northern Qiang forces on our way here. And judging by the number of bodies, it looks like there aren't many Northern Qiang left. They must have retreated."

Ye Beizhi turned his head slightly and saw that two scouts from the Ruen Dynasty had arrived.

"Yes, that seems to be the case," the first voice agreed. "Then let's head back and report." With that, he was about to turn his horse to leave.

"Wait! There's someone there!" the other scout suddenly shouted. His sharp eyes spotted Ye Beizhi who was lying on the ground and staring at them.

"Someone's there?!" The first scout was startled, thinking there was still an enemy present, and drew his sword with a swish.

The scout who had spotted Ye Beizhi hurriedly called out, "It's one of ours! He's from the Flying Mallard Battalion!"

The man dismounted quickly and rushed over to help Ye Beizhi up, asking, "Brother, how are you? Where are you hurt?"

Ye Beizhi didn't respond... he just stared blankly at him.

The other scout, still on horseback, saw Ye Beizhi's dazed expression and said to his companion, "Looks like he's scared out of his wits. Tsk... this was a brutal battle. Don't bother asking him anything. Just bring him back with us to report."

"That works," said the scout who had helped Ye Beizhi up. He nodded at his companion on horseback, "I'll follow with him from behind. You go ahead and deliver the report. Tell them... the entire Flying Mallard Battalion of five hundred men fought to the death without retreating. There was only one survivor. The rest died in battle."

***

Ye Beizhi couldn't remember how he returned that day. All he could recall was the stench of blood that filled the entire desert, just like what he was smelling now.

Clang!

Lin Jiulao's sword landed far away on the ground.

A faint red line appeared on his neck, with a few drops of blood seeping out.

"I see." Lin Jiulao exhaled and shook his head slightly. "Today, you were one step ahead of me... I lost."

Ye Beizhi's sword hung at his side as he tilted his head in confusion. Lin Jiulao had parried the last strike, but his hand could no longer hold onto his weapon, so it was knocked away. What surprised Ye Beizhi was that as soon as Lin Jiulao lost his grip on the sword, he immediately surrendered, speaking these words.

Lin Jiulao grinned. "Well, I suppose it's not all bad... dying to the greatest blademaster in the world is still something to be proud of. Go ahead... Do it."

Ye Beizhi shook his head slightly. "I'm not the greatest blademaster..."

Before Lin Jiulao could process that statement, Ye Beizhi swiftly swung his blade.

Swish.

A silver streak flashed, and a head tumbled to the ground.

"I'm just a soldier fighting against death."