Ninth Section: Dawn Breaks the Silence

The courtyard of Liu Village lay in ruin under the fading moonlight, its blue-stone pave slick with blood and littered with splintered wood from the shattered gate. Ling Yingjue stood amidst the chaos, his coarse tunic torn and stained red at the shoulder and thigh, the Soul-Piercing Cone trembling in his grip, its broad end dripping crimson. His sharp face was pale, sweat and mud streaking his brow, star-bright eyes dim with exhaustion as he panted, chest heaving. The night's clamor had dulled—Zhang Lie's retreat left only the groans of the wounded and the rustle of wind through the willows, a mournful whisper against the stillness. He staggered forward, boots scraping the stones, his gaze fixed on the hall's threshold where Liu Shan'er lay slumped against the doorframe, her pale green skirt crumpled, blood staining her lips.

"Shan'er!" His voice cracked, hoarse from battle, as he stumbled to her side, dropping the cone with a dull thud. She coughed weakly, her almond eyes flickering open, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite the pain. "Brother Ling… you're alright…" Her short sword lay beside her, its jade-studded scabbard dulled with dust, the blade chipped from her desperate strike. He knelt, hands hovering over her, unsure where to press—her chest rose shallowly, each breath a struggle. "Hold on," he rasped, his throat tight, "Your father's coming."

From the hall's interior, candlelight wavered, casting long shadows as Fu Bo limped forward, his gray tunic soaked dark with blood from shoulder and thigh. His blackwood staff, splintered at one end, supported his weight, his lined face etched with pain and resolve. "Young hero… Shan'er…" he wheezed, voice raspy, "Rear's clear… that shadow…" He sank against the wall, staff clattering, eyes dimming as blood pooled beneath him.

Ling Yingjue's head snapped up, "Shadow?" His mind flashed to the night before—the swift figure that had turned the tide. Before he could press further, a thunder of hooves broke the quiet, dust rising beyond the gate as Liu Changfeng burst into view, his blue robe whipping in the dawn breeze, Liu Wind Sword gleaming in hand. Two riders flanked him—the spearman and twin-blade man—their faces grim as they dismounted, weapons drawn. Liu Changfeng's lean frame radiated urgency, his voice a roar, "Shan'er! Young hero!"

He charged past fallen knife-wielders, his blade flashing—Willow Wind Swordplay—three stragglers lunged, knives slashing, but his sword danced, a blur of steel slicing throats and severing an arm, blood arcing as screams pierced the air. He reached the hall, eyes widening at the sight of his daughter, "Shan'er!" Dropping beside her, he cradled her head, voice trembling, "Hold on—Father's here."

Beyond the village, Zhang Lie spurred his horse through the woods, his thick-backed blade sheathed, its dark red edge streaked with Ling Yingjue's blood. His burly frame slumped slightly, dark blue robe torn at the side where the cone had struck, a dull ache throbbing in his ribs. His cloak's crimson wolf's head flapped tattered behind, his pockmarked face twisted in fury as he snarled, "That kid—damn him!" The remnants of his troop—ten knife-wielders—trailed, dragging wounded comrades, their fishbone-etched blades dulled with gore.

Zhao Si rode beside him, gaunt face pale, his right arm bandaged where the shadow's blade had bitten deep, blood seeping through. His curved blade hung limp at his side, voice a bitter rasp, "Second Brother, who was that bastard? Cut through us like paper!" Zhang Lie's eyes narrowed, "No idea—fast as a ghost. Liu Village's tougher than we thought." He spat blood, "Third's late—useless fool."

A scout galloped up, breathless, "Second Brother, Third's pinned at Jiaxing—some black-clad figure ambushed his men last night!" Zhang Lie's fist slammed his saddle, "Same one? Damn it—tell Third to regroup and watch Liu Changfeng. We're pulling back to regroup—next time, that kid's dead." The scout nodded, vanishing into the trees, hoofbeats fading as Zhang Lie's gaze burned toward Liu Village, a vow of vengeance simmering in his silence.

Inside the rear courtyard, the black-clad shadow stood amidst fallen knife-wielders, blood pooling in the churned mud of the vegetable patch. His thin blade dripped red, its edge a whisper of steel in the dawn light, his cloaked form lithe and silent, face veiled in shadow beneath a wide hood. The air stank of iron and earth, firewood scattered, old trees looming like sentinels over the carnage. He glanced at Fu Bo, slumped against a wall, staff broken beside him, blood staining his gray tunic. "Old man, you fought well," he murmured, voice low and smooth, a faint edge of respect threading through.

Fu Bo coughed, blood flecking his lips, "Who… are you?" His sharp eyes, dimming, fixed on the figure, searching for a clue. The shadow sheathed his blade, "A passerby—no friend to Blood Blade." He stepped closer, crouching, "Tell Liu Changfeng—the Swallow Jade's more than it seems. Keep it hidden." Fu Bo's breath hitched, "You… know it?" The shadow rose, "More than you think." He turned, cloak swirling, and vanished into the trees, a flicker of black against the graying sky.

In the main hall, Liu Changfeng knelt by Liu Shan'er, his blue robe crumpled, Liu Wind Sword cast aside as he pressed a cloth to her chest, blood seeping through his fingers. Her breathing was shallow, eyes fluttering, "Father… Brother Ling…" Liu Changfeng's voice cracked, "Shan'er, stay with me—help's coming." He glanced at Ling Yingjue, "Young hero, you held them off—thank you." His stern face softened, gratitude mingling with anguish.

Ling Yingjue nodded, exhaustion weighing his limbs, "She fought too—saved me once." He retrieved the Soul-Piercing Cone, its broad end streaked with blood, chain coiled tight, and slumped beside her, breath ragged. The spearman and twin-blade man entered, weapons lowered, faces grim. The spearman rasped, "Master, rear's a mess—Fu Bo's down, but the enemy's gone." Liu Changfeng's eyes darkened, "Fu Bo…" He stood, "Tend to him—bring water and bandages."

The twin-blade man rushed off, returning with a bucket and cloth, kneeling by Fu Bo as Liu Changfeng pressed the makeshift bandage harder against Liu Shan'er's wound. She winced, "Father… the jade…" Liu Changfeng's jaw tightened, "Don't speak—rest." He glanced at Ling Yingjue, "Young hero, where's the Swallow Jade?" Ling Yingjue pulled it from his tunic, its green glow faint but steady, "Here."

Liu Changfeng took it, his lean fingers tracing the swallow carving, "This cursed thing… Blood Blade won't stop." He handed it back, "Keep it hidden—Shan'er's hurt enough for it." Ling Yingjue tucked it away, nodding, "I'll guard it—and her." Liu Shan'er's lips curved faintly, "Brother Ling…" Her voice faded, eyes closing as she slipped into a fitful rest.

Outside Jiaxing, a wooded clearing stretched silent under the rising sun, mist thinning as Third Brother, "Iron Claw" Chen Wu, regrouped his battered troop. His stocky frame hunched atop a horse, iron gauntlets glinting at his wrists, claw-tips bloodied from a night's unseen skirmish. His scarred face twisted in rage, ten knife-wielders limping around him, half their number lost. "That shadow—damn ghost!" he snarled, voice a guttural roar, "Cut us down and vanished!" A scout panted, "Third Brother, Second's pulling back—says regroup and watch Liu Changfeng."

Chen Wu spat, "Zhang Lie botched it—Liu Village still stands?" The scout nodded, "Shadow hit them too—Second's hurt, Fourth's bleeding." Chen Wu's claws clenched, "Tell Second I'm holding Jiaxing—no Liu leaves alive. That shadow… next time, I'll rip it apart." His horse snorted, hooves stomping as dawn light pierced the trees, casting long shadows over his grim resolve.

Back at Liu Village, dawn broke fully, sunlight spilling over the bloodied courtyard, softening the night's harsh edges. Liu Changfeng carried Liu Shan'er to a cot in the hall, her breathing steadier, though her face remained pale. Fu Bo lay nearby, bandaged by the twin-blade man, his raspy voice weak, "Master… that shadow… said hide the jade…" Liu Changfeng's eyes narrowed, "What shadow?" Fu Bo coughed, "Fast… saved me… knows the Swallow Jade…"

Ling Yingjue sat by Liu Shan'er's side, the Soul-Piercing Cone resting on the floor, its broad end crusted with dried blood. He wiped his brow, mud flaking off, exhaustion pulling at him, but relief flickered—Zhang Lie was gone, Shan'er alive. Liu Changfeng knelt beside Fu Bo, "Rest, old friend—we've held for now." He turned to Ling Yingjue, "Young hero, you've fought beyond your years—Blood Blade's not done, but we've time to breathe."

Ling Yingjue nodded, voice low, "They'll come again—Zhang Lie won't forget." He glanced at the cone, fingers brushing its chain, I held them off… barely. More power—I need more. Liu Changfeng's stern gaze softened, "You've earned a place here—rest, then we'll plan. The Swallow Jade's secret… we'll unravel it together."

Outside, the wind calmed, willows swaying gently, dawn's light washing over Liu Village—a fragile peace after the storm.