Chapter Forty-Eight: It Was Not I Who Killed Him

Feng Xiaobao, his blood running hot from battle, seized the moment to challenge the BOSS, issuing a challenge that left Xia Fuyao no choice but to fight. Xia Fuyao’s face was as somber as still water as he strode forward, an obsidian spear in his hand.

He chose not to fight on horseback; both men preferred the exhilaration of combat on foot. Feng Xiaobao discarded his axe as well, not daring to be careless, and switched back to his familiar bright silver spear adorned with a crimson tassel.

The crowd of rangers buzzed like a beehive, all discussing the outcome. If Feng Xiaobao could survive this battle, he would make his name known throughout the realm!

Xia Fuyao forced a thin smile. “Good, good. Truly, heroes are made young. I wasn’t mistaken about you!”

“Thank you for your praise,” Feng Xiaobao replied.

Xia Fuyao continued, “But your journey ends here—against me! Have at you!”

“En garde!”

Xia Fuyao, clad in gleaming armor, looked every bit the formidable warrior, wielding a long, pitch-black spear. The front of the weapon was stained a dark purple-black from countless battles, a murderous aura clinging to it.

Feng Xiaobao’s weapon was a silver spear, ten feet in length, forged entirely of bright silver. Its head was as sharp as a dagger, the red tassel flashing, and he wore armor made from crocodile hide.

The clash began with a display of dazzling skill. Xia Fuyao’s dark spear moved like a black dragon leaping into the sea—capable of both stabbing and smashing, it seemed to possess the power to overturn rivers and seas.

Feng Xiaobao’s silver spear was nimble and fierce, changing endlessly like a serpent. Coupled with his throat-locking spear technique, his attacks came in waves, unpredictable and relentless.

They advanced and retreated with sudden speed, each strike aimed to kill, never leaving the other’s vital points unguarded. Every thrust and parry was executed with precision, each seeking to overwhelm the other.

The clash of weapons and the whistling of displaced air filled the field.

The fight was evenly matched.

At first, Feng Xiaobao was a bit restrained and fell behind, but as the battle wore on, his moves became smoother and more refined. Such progress couldn’t be achieved in training; only a life-and-death struggle could yield such insight.

Xia Fuyao was unsettled. He had assumed his opponent was slightly inferior, intending to use that advantage to win. But to his surprise, Feng Xiaobao continued to grow in skill, as if Xia Fuyao himself was feeding him experience!

Unacceptable!

I will not yield!

In the heat of battle, Xia Fuyao suddenly hurled his spear with both hands at Feng Xiaobao’s face.

No one expected him to release his weapon. Feng Xiaobao hastily raised his spear to block; the black spear rebounded off and Xia Fuyao snatched it back, spun to the side, and thrust with all his might!

Feng Xiaobao’s silver spear blocked, but the force sent him flying ten feet back, struggling to keep his footing. Xia Fuyao’s spear pressed in again, leaving Feng Xiaobao almost overwhelmed.

The bandits roared like thunder, while the rangers shouted, “Go, Xiaobao!”

In that moment of danger, Feng Xiaobao dodged aside, retreated three steps, spun around, and unleashed the “turn-back spear” as Xia Fuyao pursued.

The spear is the king of all weapons, and the turn-back spear technique is the most unexpected killer move on the battlefield, often used to snatch victory from defeat when the enemy thinks they have the upper hand.

The silver spear shot forward like a bolt of lightning, aimed straight at Xia Fuyao’s chest!

Fortunately, spearmanship and the use of the lance are closely related. Xia Fuyao was a master of the spear and familiar with all its techniques. Though Feng Xiaobao’s attack was swift, Xia Fuyao planted his spear in the ground, leaned back, and narrowly avoided the strike.

Feng Xiaobao’s momentum was spent; he couldn’t follow up his attack. Xia Fuyao took the opportunity to recover, and the two clashed again.

Spear against lance, they were evenly matched, neither gaining the upper hand.

Feng Xiaobao felt he had gained immensely from this battle. His strength and agility, combined with sharp senses, made him a natural on the battlefield. Xia Fuyao’s strength and footwork could not match his, yet Feng Xiaobao could not defeat him either—years of combat experience kept Xia Fuyao undefeated.

Xia Fuyao’s mastery of force was impeccable—he used just enough power, never too much or too little, while Feng Xiaobao relied on brute strength, often wasting energy. Control like this only came with countless battles; it could not be rushed.

Xia Fuyao’s insight was sharp. He anticipated many of Feng Xiaobao’s moves, intercepting them before they could be completed. Often, while Feng Xiaobao prepared a strike, Xia Fuyao was already waiting in the right spot, denying him any advantage—such anticipation came only from experience.

Feng Xiaobao’s heart was at ease, but Xia Fuyao was frustrated. He had exhausted all his techniques and even set traps, yet Feng Xiaobao’s strength and agility allowed him to recover from disadvantageous positions, retreating and reengaging at will.

Cheers for Feng Xiaobao grew louder and more enthusiastic as the rangers saw him holding his own against the great BOSS. At his age, to fight such a notorious bandit lord to a standstill—who wouldn’t applaud?

Tang Tianning, who had previously clashed with Feng Xiaobao, was especially relieved. He hadn’t realized how formidable Feng Xiaobao was—thankfully, he hadn’t accepted his earlier challenge to five life-and-death duels.

Buoyed by the crowd’s encouragement, Feng Xiaobao’s confidence soared. Spinning his silver spear, the red tassel whirled, and his spear danced like a dragon coiling around a pillar, his fighting spirit reaching new heights.

“I cannot let him succeed! I will not let him climb over me to rise!” With this unyielding resolve, Xia Fuyao pushed himself to his limits, unleashing the full power of his black spear. Not only did Feng Xiaobao fail to gain the upper hand, but he too was in danger if he wasn’t careful.

Just as both sides were engrossed in the spectacle, the battle ended abruptly.

A sudden “whoosh!”

From the bandits’ ranks, a hidden arrow shot out from the banner gate, aimed straight at Feng Xiaobao’s shoulder!

“Coward! Attacking with a hidden arrow!” cried the crowd in outrage, even the bandits themselves. The appreciation of martial combat had transcended faction boundaries, and everyone condemned the act together.

As the arrow neared, the crowd gasped. Feng Xiaobao, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, “saw” the arrow coming and, in a stunning display, bent backward—using a classic twenty-second-century bullet-dodging maneuver from an assassin’s network—to evade the arrow!

The onlookers were dumbstruck. Was his waist made of springs?

Astonishingly, the arrow grazed Feng Xiaobao’s forehead and struck Xia Fuyao in the chest!

Though heavily armored, the arrow was so powerful it pierced through his chest.

Xia Fuyao, planting his spear in the ground, glared furiously toward the banner gate at Feiyulang Sima Wang.

Damn it, if you’re going to ambush someone, at least aim properly!

Sima Wang, dropping his longbow to the ground, covered his mouth in disbelief. He had never imagined that his arrow would miss its hated target and instead strike his beloved brother.

A moment later, he let out a wail of utter regret: “No!”

He had been preparing in the pass, but upon seeing the fierce duel between Feng Xiaobao and Xia Fuyao, memories of the female general Hong Xiaoshui overwhelmed him. Unable to restrain himself, he sneaked down from the pass and fired the ambush arrow from the crowded banner gate.

He had aimed for Feng Xiaobao’s shoulder, hoping to capture him and trade him for Hong Xiaoshui.

But fate played a cruel trick!

Feng Xiaobao was relieved. Trained in discerning the wind and reading the battlefield, he remained calm even in combat. Hearing the bowstring behind him and feeling the murderous intent, he narrowly escaped disaster.

The scene left even the bandits speechless, and Feng Xiaobao’s allies Yang Chengxian and Cheng Boxi were at a loss for words. Should they say, “The bandit lord of Mount Xindu was felled by Feng Xiaobao from Luoyang,” or “The bandit lord of Mount Xindu was felled by his own men”?

They were bewildered, and Feng Xiaobao himself was in a predicament.

Now that Xia Fuyao was incapacitated by the arrow, should he kill him or not?

Feng Xiaobao’s mind raced. Reputation was at stake: if he had defeated Xia Fuyao fairly, then killing him would be justified. But since Xia Fuyao was hurt by friendly fire, killing him now might taint his name—people might even suggest he colluded with the bandits to kill Xia Fuyao.

As absurd as that sounded, who could predict what people would say?

After considering, Feng Xiaobao tossed out a token remark: “You did not fall by my hand, so I spare your life.”

He withdrew, but others were not so scrupulous. The reward for Xia Fuyao’s head was a thousand strings of cash. Although Feng Xiaobao was involved in his downfall, Xia Fuyao was still alive, so it didn’t count as Feng Xiaobao’s achievement.

Now that Xia Fuyao had lost all combat ability, the prospect of a thousand strings of cash was too tempting for the crowd to resist.

“Charge!”

“Kill!”

All for the reward—charge! Kill!

“For the chief’s vengeance!” cried Zhang Yongping with the serpent spear. Spurring his horse, he dashed to the front, scooped Xia Fuyao onto his saddle, and wheeled around to escape.

“Don’t let them get away!”

“Leave the man!”

“Leave the thousand strings!” the rangers roared.

It was only natural to flee; Zhang Yongping wasn’t foolish enough to fight a mob crazed by greed—he spurred his horse even faster!

He dashed back to his own lines, the bandits following, with the rangers in hot, frenzied pursuit.

When the chase reached a certain distance, a wooden clapper sounded from the pass, and a volley of arrows rained down!

Disaster struck. The government troops and rangers, in their reckless charge, fell one after another under the arrows.

At first, drunk on the promise of reward, they pressed on, but as more fell and their numbers dwindled, they finally slowed. “Where did everyone go?” they wondered.

Mount Xindu was famous for three things: its notorious bandit leaders—seven formidable chiefs; its disciplined and well-trained bandit army, as orderly as a regular force, unlike the rabble of other bandit dens; and its expert archers, trained by Feiyulang Sima Wang, who could shoot with deadly accuracy.

With these three strengths, Mount Xindu dared to commit great crimes. Yet after this battle, Feng Xiaobao and his allies made their names, and the bandits of Mount Xindu became their stepping stone.

…

Under the rain of arrows, the rangers suffered a hundred casualties, retreating in a wave.

The bandits had planned to counterattack as the enemy fell to arrows and expand their victory—a classic tactic of fighting with one’s back to the wall. But with their leader’s fate uncertain and the government troops holding firm, they thought better of it and let the rangers go.

Both sides withdrew. The commander of the government troops, Right Commandant Xu Wenfeng, sent a dispatch to the Grand Marshal of Mianchi Prefecture: “Our forces have achieved a phase victory. Xia Fuyao’s life is nearly at its end, Tian Anding has been killed, Hong Xiaoshui captured, and the remaining bandit chiefs are demoralized. Troops should be dispatched quickly to take Mount Xindu!”

The government troops, having held their ground, suffered no losses.

Both rangers and bandits were shrouded in gloom. The rangers had taken heavy casualties, and there was little compensation for the dead. The bandits had lost three chiefs.

The happiest were, of course, Feng Xiaobao’s group. In the assault against the bandits, they had not advanced and thus suffered no losses from the arrows.

With Tian Anding dead, they gained eight hundred strings of cash—and, more importantly, Feng Xiaobao, Yang Chengxian, and Cheng Boxi had earned great renown.

By the time Xia Fuyao was rescued, he was barely clinging to life—a testament to the power of Sima Wang’s arrow.

Sima Wang was devastated, almost wishing for death. No one blamed him, knowing he was already suffering enough.

Xia Fuyao lasted until midnight before finally succumbing. With his dying breath, he named “Ghost Axe” Qiu Shenyang as his successor, believing Qiu was shrewd enough to lead the bandits through their dire straits.

Misfortune never comes alone. By ten in the morning, the government forces advanced. Aside from the four hundred troops led by Right Commandant Xu Wenfeng, there were six hundred more brought by Sun Xingshen and Chen Anzhi, along with three hundred newly joined rangers—a force of over a thousand, encircling the pass so tightly that not even water could get through.

They were well-equipped and high in morale; the earlier casualties had not affected them at all.

The bandits, though they had lost few men, were utterly demoralized. The death of their chief had taken much of their courage with him.

Looking at the faces around him—some numb, some grim, but none spirited—Qiu Shenyang, now atop the pass, could only frown deeply. How could they possibly continue this fight?