Shangguan Wanwan

“Who’s there?”

A whisper, as thin as gossamer, drifted from within the cave. Clearly, it was a woman’s voice.

Fan Qiuming shone his phone’s light inside and saw a woman, covered in blood, sitting against the cave wall. She still held a sword, aimed at him.

Nearby lay a wild boar, long since dead. The wounds on the woman’s body appeared to have been dealt during her battle with the beast.

Seeing Fan Qiuming in ordinary clothes, she lowered her sword.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” she asked.

“If you don’t tell the truth, I’ll kill you.”

“I’m a tourist visiting Wutong Mountain, but I accidentally got lost in the forest,” he replied.

She knew that people had gone missing on Wutong Mountain before, so she didn’t press the matter.

“What are you staring at? If you keep looking, I’ll gouge your eyes out.”

Noticing his gaze, she covered her chest with her hand. Her clothes, torn and tattered from her fight with the boar, barely concealed her.

Fan Qiuming said nothing. He took off his jacket and threw it to her, then walked straight toward the dead boar.

He hadn’t realized it earlier, but up close, the animal was nearly two and a half meters tall, over three meters long, and must have weighed at least five or six hundred pounds. If he’d encountered that beast himself, he doubted he’d have had any chance to escape; he certainly couldn’t outrun a boar now.

The woman’s breathing grew more rapid, and before long, she closed her eyes and fainted.

Noticing the sudden silence, Fan Qiuming turned and saw the woman collapsed on the ground, blood from her wounds pooling around her. He felt a bit helpless—thank goodness he was a man of integrity. If someone with evil intentions had come across her, the consequences would have been dire.

He didn’t know how long he’d waited, but dawn was just beginning to break. Fan Qiuming used the sword to cut up the wild boar, built a fire, and started roasting meat on the blade.

When the woman woke from her coma in the corner, she found Fan Qiuming’s jacket draped over her and her wounds bandaged. Her own clothes, however, had been torn up to make the bandages. (Don’t ask why Fan Qiuming didn’t use his own clothes—the answer is simply, why should he?)

Seeing her own clothes in tatters and her sword now being used to roast meat, she flew into a rage.

“What... what are you doing?”

Fan Qiuming turned at the commotion.

“You’re awake? Hungry?”

“You... you scoundrel! How dare you undress me while I was unconscious!” She cursed him, but as she moved, blood began to seep from her wounds again.

“Ah... it hurts...” she gasped.

“Don’t move! Your wounds are opening up again—are you not afraid of pain?” Fan Qiuming paid her little mind, continuing, “If I hadn’t taken off your clothes, how would I know where you were hurt? Besides, I didn’t see anything, and I gave you my jacket to cover up. I was saving you. Kindness repaid with suspicion.”

He turned away, tending to the roasting meat, not wanting to waste words on someone who lashed out without knowing the whole story.

“I’m sorry...” came a faint voice from behind him.

“Hm? Was that you speaking? What did you say?” Fan Qiuming had heard her but pretended not to.

“I said... I’m sorry. I misunderstood you...” she spoke a little louder, but still quietly.

“What? I can’t hear you,” Fan Qiuming cupped his ear, deliberately moving closer to her.

“I said... I’m sorry, I misunderstood you, I apologize.” Her face was crimson as she turned away.

“Haha, never mind, I forgive you!” Fan Qiuming laughed, and seeing her turn away, he leaned in teasingly. “What’s this? Are you embarrassed?”

She gave a soft huff, turning her head farther away.

Fan Qiuming found her much more agreeable now, not nearly as irritating as before.

The sky was still dim, and with blood and dirt smeared across her face, he couldn’t quite make out her features, but it was clear enough she was not unattractive.

“Here, want some?” Fan Qiuming offered her a piece of roasted meat. She reached for it, but pain in her injured shoulder kept her from lifting her arm.

“It hurts...” she murmured.

“How troublesome...” Fan Qiuming muttered. Seeing she couldn’t use her hand, he cut the meat into small pieces and held them to her lips.

“There, can you eat now?”

She opened her mouth and bit down, accidentally catching his hand.

“Ow! Hey! Let go! You bit my hand!” Fan Qiuming quickly withdrew, blowing on his hand. “Were you getting back at me on purpose?”

But seeing the apology in her eyes, he realized it was just an accident.

“So, how is it?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Judging by your appearance, you’re not here as a tourist, are you? What are you doing on Wutong Mountain?” Fan Qiuming already guessed she was searching for the Divine Ruins, but he wanted to see what he could learn.

“That... I can’t tell you. It’s for your own good. I know you mean no harm,” she replied, unwilling to drag an ordinary person into this mess.

“Then who are you? Your clothes are different from ours,” Fan Qiuming pressed, though when he found her, her clothing had been so torn that it barely covered her.

“That, too, I can’t say.”

“Why can’t you tell me anything?” Fan Qiuming grew frustrated.

“At least tell me your name!”

“My name? I’m Shangguan Wanwan—Shangguan with the character for silk and the character for official.”

“Shangguan Wanwan... a nice name! I’m Fan Qiuming, ‘Fan’ like in Lin Fan.” But inwardly, he mused, “Another double surname. Are all the martial clans using compound surnames now?”

“Were your injuries from fighting the wild boar?” he asked.

She nodded, though she knew not all her wounds came from the boar—some were thanks to those bastards from the Yu Wen clan. If not for her family’s intervention, she would have died at their hands. She clenched her fists at the thought.

Fan Qiuming saw her clench her fists and knew things weren’t so simple.

They finished eating, and now that daylight had fully come, Fan Qiuming was eager to continue his journey. But it was clear he couldn’t just leave her alone here.

“Shangguan Wanwan, are you going to rest here, or do you want to come with me? Either way, I’m heading out.”

She shook her head.

“No, you should leave quickly. Get out of Wutong Mountain as fast as you can,” she said, sitting there lost in her own thoughts.

“Alright, then. If fate allows, we’ll meet again.”

Since she didn’t want to leave, he couldn’t force her. Fan Qiuming wasn’t one to dally; he left the cave quickly.

But he hadn’t gone far when a commotion erupted at the cave entrance.

“So this is where you were hiding! We’ve been looking everywhere. Shangguan Wanwan, you’re still alive?” a voice sneered.

“Bah! Yu Wenhao, you bastard! If you hadn’t ambushed me from behind, I wouldn’t have ended up like this. Shameless!” she spat.

Shangguan Wanwan’s voice was full of fury.

Yu Wenhao laughed. “Ha! The traces of the Divine Ruins belong to whoever has the skill to claim them. If you’re too stupid to keep up, don’t blame us for being ruthless.”

Shangguan Wanwan’s rage was palpable; her glare looked as though it could kill Yu Wenhao a hundred times over.

Hearing the disturbance, Fan Qiuming returned to the cave, but kept to the shadows, watching from a distance.

“Still mouthing off when death is at your door. Such a lovely face—pity your luck’s run out. How about this: serve me well and I’ll spare your life,” Yu Wenhao said, looking at Shangguan Wanwan with a wolfish hunger.

Shangguan Wanwan quickly hid Fan Qiuming’s jacket beneath her, trying not to let Yu Wenhao realize he’d been there. But Yu Wenhao seemed to notice something amiss and snatched the jacket from her. He recognized it at once.

“So, that boy was here? Damn, I should have killed him. Otherwise, you’d already be dead.” He tossed the jacket aside. “But the result will be the same.”

“Senior brother, why waste words? Finish her off—we still need to find the entrance to the Divine Ruins before the other clans beat us to it,” said Yu Wenhao’s junior.

“Of course. Let’s send her on her way now.”

With that, he raised his sword and thrust at Shangguan Wanwan. She gritted her teeth, enduring the pain as she parried and forced him back with a sweeping slash. Her wounds opened again, blood flowing freely.

“You’re just a spent arrow.” With a kick, Yu Wenhao sent her crashing into the cave wall, where she struck her head and fell unconscious.

As he prepared to finish her off, a sudden commotion erupted behind him—the other disciples of the Yu Wen clan shrieked in pain, attacked by an unseen assailant.

Yu Wenhao spun around to see Fan Qiuming standing at the cave’s entrance, his gaze deadly.

“You! I never should have let you leave alive. I let a tiger return to the mountain,” Yu Wenhao spat.

“You were only so bold because you had numbers on your side. Now, it’s just you,” Fan Qiuming replied, kicking up a sword from one of the fallen Yu Wen clan members and catching it in his hand.

He had just taken out the other four disciples in a sneak attack; now, only Yu Wenhao remained.

“You’re no ordinary man. Who are you?” Yu Wenhao asked, a sense of dread creeping into his heart.

“Dragon Sect—Dark Dragon,” Fan Qiuming replied. The weight of those four words was suffocating.

“Impossible! You can’t be Dark Dragon!”

Yu Wenhao charged, sword raised. Despite his scholarly appearance, his skill rivaled that of the scarred man Fan Qiuming had faced before. But Fan Qiuming was not the same as he’d been.

He caught Yu Wenhao’s sword, knocked it aside, and slashed down, forcing Yu Wenhao to defend. Even so, his blade grazed Yu Wenhao’s shoulder.

Unable to overpower him, Yu Wenhao swept his sword toward Fan Qiuming’s neck, forcing him to retreat.

With a weapon in hand, Fan Qiuming was a different man—had he been armed against the scarred man, he wouldn’t have been so desperate.

“Again!” he called, giving Yu Wenhao no respite and pressing his attack.

Blades flashed and rang through the cave. Yu Wenhao found himself utterly suppressed; at this rate, he would be the one to die.

Desperation drove Yu Wenhao to abandon defense, risking injury for a chance to take Fan Qiuming down with him.

Sensing the shift, Fan Qiuming quickly pulled back.

As the saying goes, the reckless fear the desperate, and the desperate fear those with nothing to lose.

Yu Wenhao lunged again, relentless. After several exchanges, Fan Qiuming’s body bore new wounds.

“Come on, then! Let’s see who falls first!” Yu Wenhao raged, like a mad dog. Fan Qiuming felt his strength waning...