Chapter 12—Duan Xiaolong

  It was like a missile had suddenly hit the ship. Yu Han was flung out of his bed to kiss the floor with a painful thud.

  “Motherfu—” Li Yao’s curse rang from somewhere.

  Yu Han’s vision buzzed blue and red, and when the stars cleared, he found himself leaning on a wall for balance.

  “What business does Fellow Daoist have with the Verdant Blade Sect’s vessel?” Qiao Jinhai’s voice echoed. It was unusually subdued, unlike his usual arrogant tone.

  “Merely hunting a worm who dared to steal. The little worm should tremble. Kneel and beg for mercy,” replied a low, rumbling voice, as if a beast was speaking.

  “Fellow Daoist surely jests—”

  Another explosion rocked the ship. The floorboard creaked, and dust and wood chips fell from the ceiling.

  Li Yao opened the door and rushed out. “Are you coming or what?” he yelled at Yu Han. “We’re dead if the roof collapses!” Outside the door, a few more recruits ran through the wardroom corridor.

  Do I follow? Yu Han clenched his fists, then wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve.

  “Wait up!” he shouted, following Li Yao.

  More explosions followed. The humid sea air became thick with mist. Yu Han and the other recruits raced up the stairs, their footsteps echoing against the trembling wood.

  “Li Yao.” Yu Han tugged on the taller boy’s arm. “Are we seriously running towards the explosion?”

  They paused halfway up the stairwell with the hatch in sight. Yu Han was out of breath, heart pounding. Li Yao turned to Yu Han, eyes wide with panic, but before he could speak—

  “You leave me no choice!” Qiao Jinhai’s voice thundered from above. “Celestial Bamboo Grove Sword Formation!”

  Another violent explosion, louder than any before, tore through the ship. The stairs shook; the walls groaned. Wood cracked and shattered around them. The hatch at the top of the stairwell exploded from its hinges, disintegrating into a cloud of dust.

  Some screamed; others cried. Yu Han and Li Yao grabbed onto the railing. The deck above them buckled, then collapsed. Floorboards vanished, splintering like shrapnel, leaving a jagged hole that exposed the scene above.

  They didn’t see the sky.

  A brilliant flash of green light illuminated the hatchway, shaped like a crescent moon. It hurtled straight towards them, followed by a swarm of wood shrapnel.

  Yu Han’s breath caught in his throat.

  We’re dead.

  Instinctively, his hands shot up, as if he could block the strange projectile. But deep down, he knew it was useless.

  Then the opaque silhouette of a man appeared in the green crescent’s path. He held a staff diagonally in front of him.

  The crescent collided with the staff, and the screech of metal on metal rang out. The green light shattered, the force blowing the shrapnel out of the way.

  And then the silhouette disappeared.

  Yu Han wasn’t sliced in half, nor turned into a sieve.

  “Cornered prey will bite back, as they say. But this… this is the first time I’ve seen one turn its teeth on its own brood,” the beastly voice said. “You have shown me a new level of desperation.”

  There was a chirping sound.

  “You’re right, Little Pillar. This is the worm’s final writhing.”

  The dust settled, and the scene on deck became visible.

  On one side was Qiao Jinhai. His clothes were in tatters, and he was bleeding from many wounds. He held a sword in his right hand and, in his left, a piece of paper. Three bamboo sticks floated in orbit around him. They swirled fast, leaving afterimages of green blurs.

  His opponent was a muscular young man with blue eyes as chilling as a glacier. The sleeves of his azure and white robes were ripped, revealing bulging biceps. He was shorter than Qiao Jinhai, but far bulkier. His spiky, jet-black hair fell to his waist.

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  The enemy cultivator spared a glance at the onlookers on the gangway.

  “How fare the stolen mice, Little Pillar?” Spiked Hair said through fanged teeth. “Did the worm catch them in its jaws?”

  There was a chirping sound again.

  “Keep the toys safe while I hunt the interloper.” Spiked Hair formed a claw with his hand, and mist seemed to gather in a ball inside it.

  “You dare ignore me in the midst of a duel, barbarian?” Qiao Jinhai said, as if he could not believe the offence.

  “Duel?” Spiked Hair cackled. “Does a hawk duel its prey?”

  “You court death!” Qiao Jinhai stomped with his left foot and, with the momentum, chopped down with his sword.

  Another green crescent slashed out—the same light that had been launched towards Yu Han’s group just moments ago.

  Superpowers. Yu Han gaped. Actual frickin’ laser swords!

  “Still not begging for your life?” Spiked Hair punched, and the ball of mist in his clawed hand flew out.

  The supernatural forces collided, and with the sound of shattering glass, the ball of mist broke through the green crescent.

  “Don’t underestimate me!” Qiao Jinhai roared, spitting out blood. The blood hit the three orbiting bamboo sticks.

  He chopped down with his sword again, and this time, the bamboo sticks followed the motion.

  Whoosh! Four green crescents flew out.

  “You die, barbarian!” Qiao Jinhai slashed and thrust as if out of control. More green crescents flew out in all directions.

  Does he have so little control over his power?

  That wasn’t it. The first four green crescents broke through the mist ball and sliced Spiked Hair apart. Spiked Hair’s remains turned into mist and scattered.

  “That can’t be it!” Li Yao shouted.

  “Like a blind insect being toyed with,” Spiked Hair’s voice echoed. “Your fear fuels my joy. Struggle more.” It was cold, but with an undertone of mirth.

  Qiao Jinhai slashed more, perhaps trying to hit Spiked Hair randomly.

  “Curse you! Curse you!” he cried out. “Don’t pretend to be my better while you hide like a rat!”

  “That’s it. Cry! Cry and beg.”

  Many green slices flew towards Yu Han’s group at the mouth of the destroyed hatch. Each time, a semi-opaque silhouette appeared and shattered the attacks.

  Not a man. Though it was a humanoid figure, it had a tail.

  “Is that all you’ve got, worm? I cannot savour such—what trick is this?” Spiked Hair said.

  The green energy left by the shattered crescents started to pulse. In the mist, it appeared like the disappearing glow of a lighthouse.

  “You just noticed?” Qiao Jinhai laughed, blood spewing from his mouth. He opened his arms wide, and his sword flew out. The three bamboo sticks stopped too. “But it’s too late. I will have your life, barbarian. Behold, the true form of our sect—”

  “Pathetic.”

  “Wha—?” A staff weaved between the three bamboo sticks and made contact with Qiao Jinhai’s jaw.

  Something broke.

  Qiao Jinhai flew back, smashing against the guardrail. The wood crunched, and the cultivator fell overboard.

  There was a chirp followed by a strange sound, as if someone was blowing a raspberry.

  “I-is he dead?” Li Yao said.

  Yu Han gulped. “You ask me, but who am I supposed to ask?”

  A bundle was thrown onto the deck from the direction Qiao Jinhai had fallen. It was Qiao Jinhai, now tied up, with his mouth gagged. He had fainted, and judging by the shape of his face, was severely injured.

  A figure landed beside him. It was Spiked Hair. He hadn’t been on the deck at all—he’d probably been hanging from the side of the ship the entire time.

  “Little Pillar, spectacular work,” Spiked Hair said.

  Another chirping sound. The semi-opaque silhouette gradually became more visible, like smeared glass clearing up.

  It was a monkey with blue fur, big round eyes, and a long furry tail. It wore armour like a terracotta soldier, and a bronze staff was tucked under one arm. It jumped from one leg to another, scratching its furry head. It pointed at Qiao Jinhai, then at Yu Han’s group, then finally at itself, and squeaked.

  “Savour the taste,” Spiked Hair said, tossing it a hexagonal crystal. “Slowly.”

  The monkey called Little Pillar carried Qiao Jinhai and climbed up the mast. He hung the unconscious cultivator from the mast, then squatted at the top, biting the hexagonal crystal like it was a cookie.

  “Let us take stock of the new hunt,” Spiked Hair said with a menacing grin.

  Yu Han blinked, then opened his eyes.

  Spiked Hair was gone, and in his place was only mist.

  The man’s voice echoed from down the stairs. “Like larvae, you are tricked. All recruits on board, scurry before me within a cup of tea’s time. Let this Duan Xiaolong see who is worthy.”

  ***

  Duan Xiaolong stood in the middle of the training area with his arms crossed. His spiked hair moved with the rocking of the ship. Below, all the recruits had gathered. Sima Yan, Ma San, Wu Di, Huang Linxue.

  Huang Niuniu.

  Her injuries hadn’t cleared up yet. She was tucked away in the corner like she was trying to disappear. She’d shiver now and then, wrapping her arms around herself.

  “It wasn’t even a fight,” Li Yao said. The boy looked like he had met his favourite superhero. “That composure. Crazy. Fucking insane. Are all cultivators this… this—”

  “Cool?” Yu Han said.

  Li Yao snapped his fingers. “Exactly. There’s some shit going on. If we don’t die, I’m gonna get myself a monkey.”

  Did he imagine it, or was that a smile on Duan Xiaolong’s face? It seemed that, for a split second, the cultivator had looked at Li Yao with interest.

  “Your worthless lives belong to me,” the cultivator said in his low voice, with its uneven growl.

  There was a murmur in the crowd.

  “Look at you, chittering like mice.” Duan Xiaolong sneered, and instantly, the crowd fell silent, as if a hundred unseen hands had grasped their throats.

  “My claim is of the strong. I conquered this ship in a duel, and now I will set the rules.” He scanned the crowd. “Like newborn foals, you have been tricked by worms. But once tricked, your value is gone.”

  Duan Xiaolong clapped, the sound ringing like crashing cymbals. “You will earn back that value in combat.” He sat down cross-legged.

  He pointed at two boys. “You were late, so you will be the first to redeem yourselves. Fight. Keep me entertained on this tedious voyage.”

  There was a chirping sound. The blue monkey appeared behind one of the boys and pushed him from behind with the staff.

  “Chirp!” The monkey waved its staff at the others, screeching.

  Yu Han moved out of the way. Soon, there were only the two boys, Duan Xiaolong, and the monkey left.

  “Need I hold your hand?” Duan Xiaolong sighed.

  “U-umm. Lord Cultivator? What shall we—”

  Duan Xiaolong snapped his fingers. “Worthless.”

  The monkey struck the boy in the ribcage with the bronze staff. The boy flew like a comet, spraying a shower of blood as he slammed into the ship’s wooden wall.

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