Hao could see her shoulder. Her sleeve was torn down to her elbow, and the tip swordsman’s blade was running down her forearm to the back of her hand.

  “Do you think you could get away? Even if we gained distance between us. There is no place to go inside the Secret Realm. I will catch up to you, eventually. After I take care of this little thing, of course.”

  There was little to no struggle between the two of them. At most, Hua Yi’Er’s weight, as he held his hair and neck, made the Swordsman readjust his feet. He moved further towards the cave’s wall.

  “Perhaps I should cut her throat now. It would be a mercy compared to hoping for help and relying on the demons from the Drifting Stream Sect!”

  Hao pulled his hand away. He didn’t fully turn or stand up, he stared at the sky. It was close to noon. Not a few minutes or maybe a dozen or more. If I take an odd path, I wonder if I can prove his words untrue. If he escaped while no one could see him, he would simply disappear. Simply. Yes, that’s what I’m doing. I’m not a kind enough person. Not kind enough anymore. He reached out again, one or two roots pulled out before another scream made his stomach curl. If only he could scream in her place. If only he didn’t think of other women in her place.

  Perhaps if he had never met that pretty Bai Ling with her kindness, he wouldn’t have heard her shout, overlapping with Hua Yi’Er’s. Bai Ling just got a momentary frieght. Yet Hua Yi’Er, he could see from the corner of his eye, his head turned a little against his will. Her other sleeve was split in two, the blade sliced it. This time, Swordface didn’t cut her arm. He opened a small slice across her palm and a second across the same hand’s fingers.

  Hua Yi’Er’s voice came out in gargled shouts. Not a single peep for help, not in the slightest, she didn’t even beg the swordsman to stop. Prideful like Meiqi, or just too shy to use her voice like Zhengqi. Damn you, don’t overlap them, that just makes it harder to look forward. To ignore.

  Hao let out a sigh and stood. Blood ran down his arm too, not much, but he had gouges in his flesh; he knew that skin was still hanging from Swordface’s fingernails. He was slow to turn. It was better to put on a soft face like he had lost and knew it. Right now, he could feel his face shape, almost neutral, his jaw tightened, and his eyes sharp. He let the sunlight shine down on him as he put his hands up high, and light flowed into his eyes. The shoes on his feet kicked off as he turned.

  Swordface smiled at the sight of Hao’s face. The Drifting Stream Sect member looked defeated and thoroughly so. There was nothing like forcing someone who thought they were clever and skilled to acknowledge they were nothing. It was sweeter than the smell of any flower or fruit in the Secret Realm. Those smirking lips now quivered. Defiant eyes now looked as if they were pulled from the most blindly loyal dog.

  You want my information, my treasures, you’ll have to hold on to me. Hao let his hands fall forward, still outstretched, weaponless. This time, a fight of any sort would not help him. “I do find it ironic, though, Senior. You call members of the Drifting Stream Demons and Devils. Yet you hold a girl hostage and kill to express your anger.”

  “Don’t try to be smart,” Swordface responded as fast as he swung his sword.

  He pushed Hua Yi’Er aside. Her small body flew to one of the highest parts of the cave, just from the shove of his one arm. She hit the wall hard with a thud.

  Swordface stepped forward as his lips flapped before a lunge. “You’re all members of the Drifting Stream, I don’t need to treat any of you as fellow cultivators or people. From what I can tell, everyone in the South is raised on the history of the Drifting Stream, killing each other.”

  Hao picked up on that strange way of speaking again. Everyone in the South. It was a strange phrase, not to mention the way he said it. Like he was a person from beyond three impassable barriers. The Desert, the Windy Mountains. And the Break the strangest of them. According to a book by an author, he was starting to favor named Teliain Rekkensen. A strange name… Gah, now is not the time.

  As the lips flapped and hands jutted out to grab him, Hao let his hands fall to his side. He used Seven Colored Steps going around the Swordsman. Showing one technique won’t end the world.

  He went past the man, but did not plan to run, not yet. But he just had to get to the other side of him, a little closer to the spot where he spent the night. Where the fire had burned bright for night and morning. There was no flame, just ash; it was what was underneath all the ash that Hao was after.

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  Hao stuck his bleeding arm back out.

  Swordface latched onto it like a leech, he almost had Hao stopped still. “Stop this game. You!” He shouted, his voice echoed along with Hua Yi’Er’s sob and the drip of blood in the cave. Any more words he had were cut short.

  Hao jumped back, his arm pulled hard with him. Just a little more, he let his thought surface on his face, it was just a step away from the coals beneath the ashes. With a struggle, Swordface came with him. He was a swordsman, he didn’t train pure strength often, not directly. Neither did Hao, but he dragged and carried beasts, then butchered them. And of course, he shattered and pushed mountain stones like jars and clay.

  The minor difference in physical strength proved useful. Swordface started to babble. “Now tell me,” he asked a lot of things.

  Hao listened to none of it as he prepared one last large pull. The difference in their physical strength was made up for by the difference in Cultivation Realm.

  That last big pull put Hao’s foot into ashes, and the swordsmen jerked back along with him.

  “What are you doing!” the Swordsman shouted. He pulled back on Hao’s arm. From elbow to shoulder, it was nice and straight. He raised his sword high to swing down. Chopping off a limb will fix you. The swordsman thought, trying to kill any of Hao’s left of fighting spirit.

  The sword fell quick. He swung fast and hard, as if to kill. Not even bothering with control, he simply wanted to take off the arm; how much of the arm didn’t matter.

  Hao felt the ashes between his toes. A soft powder, cool on the surface, which his foot broke through. He was hesitant, unsure if this idea was going to work in the first place. His hesitations vanished when he saw the Swordsman’s face shift, how he was staring at Hao’s arm like he loved it. The sudden rise of a sword prompted Hao to move thoughtlessly. His foot crunched on warm ash, then hot coals that melted his skin.

  It was far worse than Hao thought it would be, but not as bad as he could imagine. He ignored the pain and pulled on his foot with the space Spirit-holding bag. At the same time, he pushed with his hands in the same way. Ash scattered inside the space and then plumed in the air between him and Swordface. What came next was a pile of red coals neither could see but certainly felt.

  Their skin crackled like fat in a fire, much of Hao’s hand protected by the Swordsman’s grip.

  Hao ground his teeth as Swordface screamed. The direction of his sword curved. The side, flat and heavy, struck Hao like a whip. It left a wound, unopened by stinging down to his bones, and he could feel his forearm bending in a way it shouldn’t.

  The moment Hao’s hand was released, he felt a jolt to his head, a rush of blood. He dashed forward to the flower. He already knew where the roots were, so he took the chance since he had it. His hands pushed down on the ground. What’s happening? No matter how hard he pushed, he couldn’t generate and strength to press on the ground. One arm was bleeding, the other purple, bruised beyond use.

  At best, he could only tear up the stem and pull some petals. Whether the flower would still be useful in that state was another question. He had one seed, but it was useless with the paired seed. Hao reached out, but even his fingers felt numb; it got harder by the second to close them.

  “No!” A shrill shout coaxed Hao’s ears. It was Hua Yi’Er, so he half expected and regretted that she got attacked again. But the sword was hovering above his neck, its point flew at him, the wielder’s arm shook, but his aim was true.

  With the warning, he managed to move to the side. The sword pushed into an injury he already had, one he washed and wrapped the best he could, considering the circumstances. Now it was torn open again.

  Hao could feel hot blood running down his arm. All of his senses seemed swallowed by that red liquid, he could smell and taste it, his teeth grinding as he was overcome by pain. The only thing he could do was bite down on nothing to stop his scream. No matter the pain, he wouldn’t give anyone such satisfaction as to hear him suffer.

  Hao grabbed the blade as he pulled away, his hand gathered lacerations, none deep, his fingers biting down the best they could, which was close to nothing. But it was enough to keep it from his neck while he found his feet.

  Burns and bruises covered his arms, now, both dripped blood, too. His left hand had no strength to strike, the last of his effort in it, he hoped he could use for the flower, now held a blade which cut him like a steak. His other hand, his right, already purple from the last hit he took, shot out. A reckless palm strike. His hand shot out towards the swordsman’s center of gravity. A twinge of pain made Hao close one eye. Blood dribbled down his nose, World Energy crashed in his body in great waves.

  Swordface flew back, like Hua Yi’Er did before, a dozen feet. He didn’t stop until he hit the cave’s wall. His hips hit the stone first, then his upper body flung back. His head hit the stone behind him and scraped down smooth rocks. Just a bump and a scratch, a stream of blood from the back of his neck.

  Hao looked away from the swordsman, away from the flower. His arm hung at his sides.

  The swordsmen heard Hao’s voice, “Get up, crawl on my back!” a shout like thunder.

  When Swordface got his head back up, he saw the cave empty. The corpse of a Drifting Stream Sect member, with a hole clear through his throat, a strike he was proud of. And the Polarity flowers were relatively untouched in the center, still growing in the sunlight of the well-lit cave.

  “You little BEAST!” Swordface shouted as loudly as he could. He stomped over the corpse, ripped the Polarity flowers up, and shoved them in his holding-bag. With a jump, the swordsman was out of the cave. It didn’t take long to spot Hao’s back as he ran towards the central mountain. The Swordsman ran just as fast, if not faster.