"So this is where you were..."
The voice froze Xiang Yu in place, his body turning rigid as ice water seed to flood his veins. He had been discovered, his carefully executed plan crumbling before his eyes. Why had he been found so quickly? Hadn't this disciple chosen his own path through the forest? With dread pooling in his stomach, he slowly turned to face his hunter.
The disciple stood before him, a smugness radiating from his posture. "I thought it was weird that I couldn't catch up to you and decided to check the other paths," he explained, his tone laced with self-satisfaction.
Dammit! Why did this particular pursuer have to possess actual brain cells? This deviation from the standard cultivation novel script—where antagonists conveniently behaved with predictable stupidity—was deeply inconvenient. In stories, these minor villains never demonstrated such rudintary problem-solving skills.
Despite his internal frustration, Xiang Yu forced himself to calm down. True, he had been discovered, but it was still just one opponent. Taking a steadying breath, he readied his knife without responding verbally. His mind calculated rapidly—both of them were Body Refining cultivators, and based on the others he'd encountered, the difference in their strength shouldn't be insurmountable. Perhaps he could engage briefly while searching for an opportunity to escape.
Noticing Xiang Yu's combat-ready stance, the disciple approached with asured steps, drawing his sword with practiced ease. The sight of the gleaming blade sent a jolt of surprise through Xiang Yu. He hadn't anticipated that his opponent would be trained in sword techniques. This complicated matters significantly—the sword's superior reach would give the disciple a considerable advantage, compounding what was likely already a cultivation disparity.
But there was no ti for hesitation. With the disciple's scream still echoing through the forest, Xiang Yu knew the remaining hunter would be converging on their location. He couldn't afford to face multiple opponents simultaneously. Adding nurical disadvantage to his already precarious situation would be disastrous.
With resolute determination, Xiang Yu charged forward, swinging his knife in a controlled arc. The disciple responded with equal aggression, his sword intercepting Xiang Yu's blade. Sparks flashed as tal scraped against tal, the force of the collision knocking Xiang Yu slightly off-course.
This deflection, however, wasn't unexpected. Xiang Yu recovered instantly, pivoting with surprising agility as he targeted his opponent's exposed neck. While his knife's shorter range might typically be considered a disadvantage against a sword, in close quarters it transford into a lethal asset. The sword's extended reach beca a liability in tight spaces, creating a vulnerable window that Xiang Yu intended to exploit.
Following the initial clash, the disciple was still extending his arm from the defensive maneuver, his body montarily unguarded. Xiang Yu closed the distance rapidly, positioning his knife for a clean, fatal strike before the swordsman could retract and reposition his weapon.
But he had severely underestimated his opponent's reflexes. With alarming speed, the disciple's free hand shot forward, fingers clamping around Xiang Yu's wrist in a vise-like grip. Panic flooded through him as he struggled to break free, his arm immobilized in the disciple's grasp.
Desperation mounting, Xiang Yu launched a punch with his other hand, hoping to create enough distance to escape. To his horror, the disciple caught this arm as well, sohow maintaining his hold on the sword while restraining both of Xiang Yu's limbs. He could feel the hard press of the sword handle against his captured hand, cold tal digging into his skin.
A maniacal smile spread across the disciple's face, revealing teeth in a predatory grin that sent chills down Xiang Yu's spine.
"You aren't really going to..." Xiang Yu began, dread evident in his voice as realization dawned.
"Yes I am going to..." the disciple confird, his smile widening as he abruptly tilted his head backward.
"Oh no," Xiang Yu muttered, comprehension arriving a fraction of a second too late.
With brutal force, the disciple slamd his forehead forward, crashing directly into Xiang Yu's face with a sickening impact that sent stars exploding across his vision.
…
Xiang Yu's world spun violently as his body crashed against the unyielding ground, the impact knocking what little air remained from his lungs. Stars danced across his vision, bright pinpricks of light that seed to call his na as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened. The forest floor pressed against his back, cool and unforgiving, while his thoughts swirled in a confused haze.
He blinked repeatedly, trying to bring his surroundings into focus. Blurry patches of green and brown gradually revealed themselves as tree branches swaying gently overhead. Had he passed out during his training session? The last thing he rembered was... what exactly? mory refused to cooperate, fragnts of thought slipping through his ntal grasp like water.
A shadow passed over him, blocking the dappled sunlight. Soone was standing above him now, their silhouette wavering in his unfocused vision. He could just make out the distinctive shape of a sword clutched in their hand. His junior sister, perhaps? She was the only person he knew who practiced sword techniques. Maybe she wanted to practice together, though her approach seed unusually aggressive.
The shadowy figure raised their sword high, the blade catching a glint of sunlight before arcing downward with lethal intent. A jolt of confusion shot through Xiang Yu's muddled thoughts. "Wait, is this really practice?" he wondered, the incongruity finally piercing through his ntal fog.
In that crucial mont, his vision suddenly cleared, reality snapping into horrifying focus. It wasn't his junior sister at all—it was the disciple, face twisted in a triumphant grin as he brought his weapon down for a killing blow. The mories crashed back in a violent torrent—the forest, the hunting party, the headbutt that had nearly cost him his consciousness.
Pure survival instinct took over. Xiang Yu rolled desperately to the side, feeling the rush of air as the blade missed his flesh by re milliters, embedding itself in the earth where he had lain a heartbeat before. The near miss sent a wave of cold terror washing through him—he had almost died.
The disciple wasted no ti lanting his failed strike. With practiced efficiency, he wrenched his sword from the ground and imdiately swung toward Xiang Yu's new position. Though still disoriented, Xiang Yu managed to raise his knife just in ti, parrying the blow with an awkward, painful deflection that sent shockwaves up his arm.
Each successive attack ca faster than the last, the disciple pressing his advantage relentlessly. Xiang Yu remained trapped on his back, desperately parrying strikes while his opponent leveraged gravity and superior positioning. The disciple's blade hamred down again and again, each impact reverberating through Xiang Yu's increasingly fatigued arms. His defense was weakening, muscles burning from exertion, and the disciple wasn't giving him even a fraction of a second to regain his footing.
As he deflected yet another strike, desperate inspiration struck. In one fluid motion, Xiang Yu scooped up a handful of forest debris and hurled it directly into his attacker's face. The mixture of dirt, sand, and leaves found its mark, causing the disciple to recoil with a pained howl, hands instinctively rising toward his eyes.
That montary distraction was all Xiang Yu needed. He rolled repeatedly, putting precious distance between himself and his blinded opponent before springing to his feet, muscles protesting but adrenaline overriding the pain. The disciple was still clawing at his eyes, curse words spilling from his lips as he struggled to clear his vision.
Xiang Yu didn't hesitate—he wasn't bound by so chivalric code that demanded fair play. This was survival, pure and simple. He charged forward, knife poised to strike, intent on ending the confrontation before his opponent could recover.
Yet sohow, despite his impaired vision, the disciple sensed the attack coming. As Xiang Yu closed in, the man's hand shot out with uncanny precision, once again catching Xiang Yu's wrist in a crushingly tight grip. That sa maniacal smile spread across the disciple's face as their eyes t, sand still clinging to his lashes.
A sickening sense of déjà vu washed over Xiang Yu. No, he wouldn't let history repeat itself. Instead of throwing another easily-intercepted punch, he dropped his weight and swept his leg in a wide arc, targeting his opponent's ankles.
The disciple's eyes widened in surprise as his feet suddenly left the ground, body montarily suspended in air before gravity reclaid him. Yet even as he fell, his combat instincts remained sharp. The sword in his hand redirected with deadly purpose, plunging deep into Xiang Yu's shoulder.
White-hot agony exploded through Xiang Yu's body as the blade penetrated flesh and muscle. He bit down hard on his lip to suppress a scream, the tallic taste of blood filling his mouth. Despite the excruciating pain, his expression hardened with grim resolve. This was his chance—perhaps his only chance—and he wouldn't squander it, regardless of the cost.
In a move that defied both common sense and self-preservation, Xiang Yu pushed himself forward, deliberately impaling his shoulder further on the blade. The sword slid deeper, grating against bone as he positioned himself directly above the fallen disciple. With the man pinned beneath him and the sword effectively immobilized, the tables had suddenly turned.
Now it was Xiang Yu's turn to smile, a nacing expression that visibly unsettled his opponent. "It's my turn to try this," he declared, before slamming his forehead down against the disciple's face.
The impact sent pain radiating through Xiang Yu's skull, making him instantly regret his choice of attack. How had the disciple made this look so easy? Nevertheless, the headbutt achieved its purpose—the shock loosened the man's grip on the knife's handle.
Seizing the weapon with his good arm, Xiang Yu wasted no ti. He brought the blade down again and again, each strike driven by desperate survival instinct rather than technique or training. The disciple's struggles gradually weakened, then ceased entirely as crimson pooled beneath him.
Heaving for breath, Xiang Yu sat back, montary relief washing over him as he processed his victory. The mont was short-lived, however, shattered by a single, stunned syllable from behind him.
"Y-you..."
Xiang Yu's head snapped around, his heart plumting. In the heat of combat, he had completely forgotten about the fifth disciple—the last remaining hunter. And now, with a sword still embedded in his shoulder and exhaustion clouding his every movent, he was in no condition for another fight.
"If I said I didn't want to kill him, would you believe ?" Xiang Yu offered weakly, a nervous, placating smile forming on his blood-spattered face.
The answer ca not in words but in action. The final disciple charged forward, weapon raised, eyes burning with vengeful fury as he closed the distance between them.
…
A/N - Is it annoying to keep repeating the word disciple? I don't feel like coming up with nas for these dudes who die in like a chapter lol
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