The leader sneered, his bravado bolstered by the simple, undeniable fact of their numbers.

  "You dare threaten us?!" he barked, a harsh, ugly sound.

  "We outnumber you! You are the one who's courting death!" With a final, shared glance of murderous intent, the two lackeys launched themselves forward, their crude brass knuckles gleaming in the afternoon sun.

  The first disciple threw a heavy, straightforward punch. Bi Kan moved with a fluid grace that belied his inexperience, the attack whistling harmlessly past his ear.

  He swung the iron blade in a clumsy, horizontal arc, the weapon feeling like a dead weight in his hand, its balance all wrong.

  The disciple, a brawler to his core, ducked under the telegraphed swing with an almost contemptuous ease.

  "Haha! You swing that thing like a farmer with a hoe!"

  the disciple mocked, emboldened by Bi Kan's lack of skill.

  Bi Kan simply grinned, a cold, sharp expression that held no humor. He thrust the blade forward, a sloppy lunge that was easily dodged.

  "Just like your leader?" he taunted, the words a psychological jab that made the now-unarmed leader flinch.

  As the first disciple sidestepped, a second shadow emerged from Bi Kan's blind spot, a fist aimed like a hammer blow for the back of his skull.

  Bi Kan twisted with a speed born of pure instinct, bringing the flat of the blade up just in time. The clang of metal on metal was a sharp, ugly sound that vibrated up his arm.

  The force of the blow sent both of them stumbling back a step. He was no swordsman. This clumsy piece of iron was more a hindrance than a help.

  With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the sword high into the air, its dark form spinning against the bright sky, and lunged towards the disciple he had just blocked, his hands now free.

  The world slowed. Bi Kan’s mediocre martial arts were elevated by his profound spiritual perception. He could see the subtle shift of a shoulder that telegraphed a punch, the slight imbalance in a stance that created an opening.

  He weaved through a flurry of wild punches, his own counters precise and economical. He saw his chance, a flicker of an opening, and his palm struck the side of the disciple's head with a sharp, cracking sound, sending the man staggering back, dazed.

  His brief victory was cut short. As his back was turned, the second disciple, Wui Yei, crashed into him, landing a square, brutal impact on his cheekbone that sent a starburst of pain through his skull. "Ngh!" Bi Kan was thrown backwards but managed to hold his ground, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth.

  Seeing his chance, Wui Yei pressed his advantage, unleashing a relentless barrage of brass-knuckled blows, determined to beat Bi Kan into submission.

  The falling sword reached the apex of its arc and began its descent. Wui Yei, his vision tunneled on his target, his body already committed to the next punch, saw the dark shape descending in his peripheral vision.

  His eyes, filled with the thrill of the attack, suddenly widened in terror. He had no way to move, no time to evade. He was already in motion.

  As Bi Kan grasped the hilt, its familiar weight settling back into his hand, the blade was already perfectly aligned with the disciple’s charging chest.

  Shwuck!

  The sound was a wet, sickening tear of flesh and fabric. The blade pierced through sternum and lung, the force of the disciple's own momentum driving it deep.

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  His barrage of punches ceased, his arms falling limp at his sides. He dropped to his knees, a look of profound, agonizing disbelief on his face, before collapsing into the dust.

  The last remaining disciple and his unarmed leader took a horrified step back.

  "Is… is this real?" the lackey stammered, his gaze fixed on the still form of his comrade.

  "Brother Wui Yei… he’s… dead?" The leader grit his teeth, his face a pale mask of shock and fury. He had come here for revenge, for a simple beating. He had never expected death.

  Bi Kan ripped the blade free with a single, sharp pull, the bloody iron glinting in the sun. His eyes, no longer holding any pretense of reason or pity, were as cold and dead as river stones.

  "It's a shame," he said, his voice a low, chilling whisper.

  "I wasn't able to torture him. But alas, I overestimated myself. I can't subdue three people, only one."

  He leveled the dripping blade at the last lackey.

  "I'll have to kill you." His gaze then shifted, locking onto the leader with a terrifying intensity. "And then I'll torture you."

  The leader gulped, a thick, cold lump of fear lodging in his throat. His mind, which moments before had been filled with arrogance and a simple desire for revenge, was now a maelstrom of terror.

  If I knew this would have happened, I would have hardly bothered!

  he thought, his own taunts now tasting like ash in his mouth.

  I underestimated this guy… I thought he was just a self-righteous brat! His feet dug into the sandy road, his body already coiling, preparing to flee. I am fast on my feet… I have no doubts I can flee, but, I tire too easily… we're in a clear road… I can dash into the forests but… that's also a danger in itself!

  As he contemplated the grim calculus of escape, a raw, grief-stricken roar shattered his focus. His last remaining lackey was not brimming with fear or contemplating surrender.

  His face was a mask of pure, unadulterated rage, a vein throbbing violently on his temple as he stared at the lifeless body of his brother-in-arms, submerged in a rapidly spreading pool of his own blood.

  He gripped his brass-knuckled fists so tightly they trembled. They had been disciples together for two years, sharing meals, complaints, and meager dreams. "

  Y-you!" he bellowed, his voice cracking with anguish and contempt. He turned to his leader, his eyes blazing.

  "Leader! We must avenge Wui Yei!"

  The leader’s throat felt tight, the words of retreat dying before they could be spoken. He couldn’t flee now. To abandon his subordinate in the face of such loyalty would brand him a coward for life, a fate worse than death in the competitive world of the sect.

  Besides, Bi Kan’s eyes were serious, promising a relentless hunt that would end in torture. His only chance, however slim, was to fight. He grit his teeth, the decision crystallizing in his heart like ice.

  "Yes… we must…"

  His fear was burned away by a surge of desperate resolve, his eyes now mirroring the contempt of his subordinate.

  "We'll be the ones to torture you, Bi Kan!" he roared.

  Bi Kan simply smiled, a slow, chilling expression of genuine pleasure.

  "Great," he said, his voice deceptively calm. "I thought I had to chase fleeing rabbits. To have you charge at me, you saved me the trouble. I'll torture you eagerly."

  The leader hesitated, a flicker of his earlier fear returning. Bi Kan’s taunts were like acid, eating away at his mental state, making him second-guess every move. But the lackey had no such reservations. With a final, guttural cry, he lunged forward.

  "For Wui Yei! You bastard!"

  Bi Kan swung the iron blade, the edge scraping across the lackey's cheek and drawing a thin line of blood. But instead of leaping back from the pain, the disciple pressed forward, his grief a shield against caution.

  "Die, Bi Kan!" He drove his fist into Bi Kan's gut with the full force of his momentum.

  "Cough!" The air was driven from Bi Kan's lungs in a pained grunt, and he was sent stumbling back several inches. But his grip on the hilt of the sword was like a vise; he would not let go of his weapon.

  He landed on his feet, a grim, bloody grin spreading across his face.

  "Good! Good! At least you have some honor!" His eyes were now alight with a mixture of excitement and rage.

  He repositioned himself, his mind already working. This one is consumed by anger, he thought. He'll be an easy target!

  The leader, his choice now sealed in blood, finally moved. He stepped over to his fallen comrade and, with a grim expression, pried the brass knuckles from Wui Yei's cooling fingers, slipping them onto his own.

  They were still warm, still tainted with his brother's blood.

  "Hahh, Hahh," he panted, his voice thick with emotion as he raised his fists.

  "We'll avenge you, brother. I swear on my cultivation heart!"

  Bi Kan’s grin widened into a full-blown, manic laugh. "Hahaha! Then, come! Fight me to the death!"