Chapter 56: Survival of the Fittest

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There were two days left until the Five Peaks Alliance.

In a small grove, Wang Hai was running in haste.

His breathing grew more labored, his inner energy nearly depleted, unable even to sustain the most basic circulation. His clothes were soaked with blood, clinging damply to his body.

Some of it belonged to his enemies, but most was his own.

He had been fleeing for two days.

Zhou Mingxu, the chief of the Thick Earth Banner of the Ming Sect, possessed the sect’s renowned lightness skill, “Feather Smoke Art,” as graceful as drifting cotton, as ethereal as mist. Wang Hai could not compare. Moreover, Zhou Mingxu, head of the Ming Sect’s secret agents, had no qualms about losing his dignity—nothing he carried was free from poison.

Several times, Zhou Mingxu caught up with him, and Wang Hai’s wounds and the poison in his body only multiplied.

Last night, Wang Hai managed to ambush Zhou Mingxu, and both suffered severe injuries.

Zhou Mingxu withdrew, and Wang Hai used the opportunity to channel his inner energy and neutralize the toxins within himself.

Fortunately, his internal skills were taught by Li Miao; not deep, but extremely pure. After a night’s effort, he managed to purge the poison entirely.

Yet the damage to his meridians was irreparable. At this point, he was so weak that even a third-rate fighter could kill him effortlessly.

When Wang Hai resumed his flight, he realized he was surrounded.

Zhou Mingxu had not given up. Recognizing Wang Hai as a tenacious opponent, he stopped pursuing him directly, instead trailing him from a distance.

Whenever Wang Hai was too exhausted to move and had to stop to recover, Zhou Mingxu sent Ming Sect disciples to wear him down, bit by bit draining his inner energy.

From the way Zhou Mingxu watched Wang Hai torment his subordinates, even wagering their lives, it was clear he cared nothing for the lives of his disciples.

So Wang Hai abandoned any thoughts of taking hostages—he could only kill whoever came for him.

Once again, he was being chased.

Wang Hai staggered forward a few steps, suddenly coughing, his posture unstable. He propped himself against a tree trunk to avoid collapsing.

It seemed his injuries were overwhelming, his life hanging by a thread.

Suddenly, a figure darted out from behind a tree, swinging a long blade down toward Wang Hai’s head!

With a dull thud, the blade lost its strength, landing limply on Wang Hai’s forehead, leaving a gash an inch long.

Wang Hai pulled his hand from the man’s chest, shook off the bits of flesh, wiped the blood from his eyes, picked up the long blade, and forced himself to continue running.

The village he had come to investigate could hardly be considered a hiding place for a Ming Sect spy.

In this town, there was a Ming Sect branch.

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Now, deep in the mountain forest, no matter how fast he ran, Wang Hai could not escape the Ming Sect’s encirclement.

His only hope was the main road.

Wang Hai was not hoping to shift danger onto others; rather, he knew the Ming Sect, being a thorn in the imperial court’s side, would have to exercise some restraint.

If Wang Hai stopped whenever he saw someone, Zhou Mingxu would surely kill both him and any bystanders. But if he escaped along the main road, among the bustling travelers, the Ming Sect would at least choose a quiet stretch to strike.

This could buy him precious time.

Wang Hai understood the power of the Love Gu and knew Xiao Si well—he knew how she would act.

Their feelings for each other were not mere youthful impulse, but built on deep mutual understanding. Wang Hai knew that no matter how worried Xiao Si was for him, she would not lose her composure.

He trusted Xiao Si to make the right choice.

If only he could hold out until Li Miao arrived, he would survive.

Ahead lay the main road.

Faint voices drifted from up ahead.

Wang Hai summoned his last strength, rushed out of the thicket, and stepped onto the solid road.

He saw Zhao Ying.

“It’s you!”

Zhao Ying had been walking with her head down, wary of bandits, her hand already resting on her sword hilt.

When she saw Wang Hai, drenched in blood, burst from the woods, she stared in disbelief, quickly recognizing him.

Zhao Ying, accompanied by a few trusted followers, had left the Tiger Might Escort Agency to seek refuge with relatives in Northern Zhili.

The uproar over the Taishan Sect had spread far and wide. Liu Baiyun had executed Li Miao’s plan well, and now every martial artist in Jinan Prefecture knew the Embroidered Guards were targeting the Taishan Sect.

Zhao Ying had pinned her hopes of vengeance on Zuo Lishan, so she sought out news carefully.

Through her inquiries, she learned the Huashan Sect had already pledged allegiance to the court.

She intended to go to Taishan to ask Zuo Lishan for answers, but hesitated at the foot of the mountain.

She had no siblings; her widowed mother depended on her. The risks were too great, so she dared not gamble.

So she returned to the Tiger Might Escort Agency, thinking that if Taishan could no longer be relied upon, she would have to find another way.

But when she returned, she found the escort agency had changed completely.

Her martial arts were largely crippled, making it hard to command respect. Compared to the Taishan Sect and Zuo Lishan, she was still too inexperienced.

The transaction had severed any ties between the agency and the Zhao family, regardless of Zuo Lishan’s fulfillment of his promise.

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Fortunately, the Taishan Sect stewards, mindful of their reputation, gave Zhao Ying some money.

Disheartened, Zhao Ying knew her skills could not protect the money, so she took a few loyal followers to Northern Zhili to seek help from relatives. Once settled, she would bring her mother.

She did not expect to run into Wang Hai, fleeing for his life.

Zhao Ying drew her sword: “Where is Mei Qinghe!?”

Wang Hai glanced at her, ignored the question, and said simply, “Run, quickly,” then continued forward without looking back.

Zhao Ying had witnessed Wang Hai’s skills before and knew her swordsmanship was ruined; she could not stop him. Helpless, she watched him leave.

As she brooded in anger, several Ming Sect disciples burst from the woods.

Zhou Mingxu followed, casting a glance at Zhao Ying and her companions.

“Keep chasing.”

With that, he tossed a handful of fine steel needles at Zhao Ying and her group.

It was a casual gesture, not even calculated—like grabbing a handful of leaves. They were armed martial artists; killing them meant nothing.

The needles struck Zhao Ying’s companions, sending them convulsing to the ground.

The Ming Sect disciples continued their pursuit of Wang Hai.

Soon, those on the ground foamed at the mouth, their limbs gradually ceasing to move, their breath fading.

Only Zhao Ying, though her swordsmanship was ruined, still retained her inner strength. She barely managed to survive.

She looked at the corpses, crawled over, and checked their breathing.

After testing each companion’s pulse and breath, tears streamed down her face.

Eventually, Zhao Ying struggled to her feet, leaning on her sword.

She dragged her companions’ bodies to the roadside woods, cut branches to cover them, then staggered away.

“Father… everything you taught me was wrong… all wrong…”

“Justice, morality… all nonsense…”

“This world, in the end, is only the law of the jungle.”