Chapter 14 | Traps Thenceforth

The forest shadows felt longer and with more black then ever before.

Lin mei knew that it wasn’t the case, but it still felt like it as their nine figures slipped through the undergrowth in paired formation and fifty yards of spacing between each pair. Moving northeast at a pace that balanced speed against silence. Lin Mei and Lin Shui took point. Duan Rong and Tao Shen held the middle. Fang Yue ran alone at the rear because her partner was the silence itself and it kept pace admirably.

The monitoring web’s data faded as they left its range and Lin Mei’s own spiritual sense took over

It painted the forest in cruder strokes.

She could feel the five fleeing signatures ahead, closer now. Their panic a tangible thing in the Qi, giving it a sharp, acidic quality that cut through the ambient flow the way vinegar cut through oil.

She could feel the eight pursuers too.

Their Qi was different. Oily and carrying the demonic taint. They moved in lazy patterns, arrogant and seeing no reason to be focused.

Lin Mei angled east toward their destination.

The plan was simple because reality had been particularly unkind to complicated plans recently. They would circle ahead of the pursuit, position themselves on the eastern flank where a line of fallen trunks provided cover and elevation, and hit the crescent from the side when the pursuers’ attention was fixed forward on their prey.

Eight mid-stage Qi Condensation against three injured Foundation Establishment cultivators, one sword genius, and four Qi Condensation disciples.

They had the numbers and strength of cultivation on their side.

It would be an easy strike, recover the disciples, make sure they left no trail, and then vanish back toward the safe zone.

They reached the flank position in a dozen minutes.

The fallen trunks lay in a rough line, a few massive pines that had come down in some previous storm and now formed a natural barricade that was chest-high and had gaps between them that served as holding positions. The undergrowth had grown up around the bases, providing additional concealment. The ground behind the trunks was firm, dry, solid, and slightly elevated, giving a clear sight line across forty yards of open forest floor.

It didn’t take long for things to reach a boiling point.

The five runners burst into view first.

Three boys, two girls, all wearing the shredded remnants of white robes. The youngest couldn’t have been older than thirteen. The oldest, a boy with a face that was more blood than skin, was half-carrying, half-dragging a girl whose left arm hung at an angle that arms did not voluntarily choose. They ran with the stumbling, graceless desperation of people whose legs had stopped taking orders from their brains and were operating on pure animal reflex.

The eight pursuers came into view a few seconds later.

They sauntered after them, Qi helping them keep up without expending physical energy.

That was the detail that made Lin Mei’s grip on her sword hilt tighten until the leather bit into her palm. They sauntered with smiles and laughs. Eight demonic cultivators in dark robes, red eyes catching the grey morning light, blades drawn and held low, walking at a pace that said they could close the distance whenever they chose and had chosen not to.

The fear was the point.

The bleeding, stumbling, suffering, crying flight of five children through a forest that offered no safety was the entertainment, and the killing, when it came, would be the dessert.

One of them flicked his blade.

A thin arc of dark Qi crossed the distance and opened a cut along the oldest boy’s calf. He stumbled, caught himself but kept moving.

The girl he was carrying screamed and half sob half shout thing that made Lin Mei’s chest nearly explode.

The demonic cultivators laughed.

Lin Mei’s vision narrowed.

She raised her fist and the nine figures behind the fallen trunks tensed.

She dropped the fist.

They moved without hesitation and hit the crescent from the side.

Lin Shui moved first, because the concept of waiting for the signal was something she interpreted as the signal is me moving. Her blade caught the nearest demonic cultivator across the back of the neck before he had finished turning his head. The cut was clean and final. He dropped without a sound, which was more courtesy than he had shown his victims.

Duan Rong and Tao Shen hit the centre of the crescent together, their Foundation Establishment Qi flaring in a combined pressure wave that staggered multiple cultivators and sent another one stumbling into a tree. Fang Yue materialised on the far flank, her sword already wet, and a second demonic cultivator folded over a wound he hadn’t seen coming.

The Qi Condensation disciples, Feng Jun, Wei Ping, Su Lan, and Chen Yi, poured through the gaps in the fallen trunks and engaged the scattered remnants of the formation with a desperate energy to save their sect brothers and sisters.

Lin Mei took the leader.

She knew he was the leader because he was the one who recovered fastest, the one whose red eyes found her through the chaos with the an assessing calm even in the chaos of an ambush. His blade came up in a guard that was too fast for mid-stage, and when their swords met, the impact jarred her wrists and sent a shock up her arms that made her teeth click together.

He was stronger than mid-stage should have been.

Late-stage, maybe. Or mid-stage with a body cultivation method that traded precision for raw physical power.

Lin Mei disengaged, reset, and came in again from a lower angle. Her blade found his hip guard and skidded along reinforced fabric. His counter nearly took her face off. She ducked and felt the wind of the blade pass over her scalp. Then drove her pommel into his solar plexus.

He grunted, stepped back, and smiled.

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Lin Mei hated the smile.

She hated it with a passion that surprised her, because it was the same smile the scarred man in the clearing had worn when the elder had saved them, the same smile every demonic cultivator she’d ever seen had worn, the smile that said this is fun for me and it’s going to stop being fun for you very soon.

The fight lasted forty seconds.

In those forty seconds, six of the eight demonic cultivators went down. Two dead, courtesy of Lin Shui, whose blade moved faster then Lin Mei could keep up with. Three unconscious or disabled, courtesy of the Foundation Establishment cultivators whose depleted reserves still outclassed anything at Qi Condensation.

One surrendered, which was unexpected and was handled by Feng Jun sitting on him.

The leader and one companion broke free and ran.

Lin Mei let them go, because chasing runners through unfamiliar forest was how you turned a victory into a significant defeat… More importantly, she had five rescued disciples to collect and a corridor to get back to.

“Grab them! Move! We go now, now!”

Su Lan and Chen Yi reached the five runners first. The oldest boy collapsed the moment friendly hands touched his shoulders, his legs finally receiving the memo that the emergency was over and responding by ceasing all operations immediately. The girl with the broken arm was lifted by Tao Shen, who carried her with the careful efficiency of a man whose own chest wound was reminding him what carrying people felt like.

The youngest, the thirteen-year-old, stood in the middle of the open forest floor and stared at Lin Mei with eyes that were too large, empty, and too old for a face that still had baby fat on its cheeks.

“You’re safe,” Lin Mei said. “We’re White Clover Flame disciples. Come with us.”

The boy blinked and mouth moved. No sound came out.

Wei Ping picked him up and put him over one shoulder without asking, because asking would have required an answer and the boy didn’t have one.

“Formation! Pairs! We move—”