005The tardy arrival of novitiate benefits
In the intricate web of literary motifs, Shen Tang found herself bewildered. Was it indeed a sword, not a thread, in the tender grasp of maternal hands? Furthermore, the subsequent phrase, "striking upon the wandering son," was utterly disquieting! This "maternal figure" seemed venomous.
While the initial assertion might be comprehensible—after all, faced with a son who digs pits for his mother, even the most forbearing maternal figure might be compelled to unleash her wrath—yet the following statement could resonate within her for an entire year!
"Eighteen strikes in a single heartbeat, each a critical blow." Shen Tang's immediate reaction was, "Has the wandering son met his demise?" Could such irreverent horror literature truly disrupt convention? Doubt clouded her once confident intuition.
Equally incredulous was the chief constable, forcefully dismounted from his steed by Shen Tang—a mere ten-year-old exile! In that moment, true malice took root within him. "Today, if Gong the bandit is spared, tomorrow shall breed calamity!" Adhering to the principle of "as immovable as the mountain, yet as thunderous as the lightning," he tensed his arm, swiftly retracting the gripped spearhead. Then, with lightning speed, he thrust once more, aiming squarely for Shen Tang's left eye.
Yet, the anticipated penetration of the skull by the spearhead did not occur. Instead, he encountered a resistance that nearly numbed his grip. Clang! The spearhead clashed against a sword—a simple yet resplendent ancient blade, resonating with echoes of mythical beasts. And the wielder of this sword was none other than Shen Tang herself! Witnessing this scene, the chief constable's pupils quivered ever so slightly.
In their grappling, neither yielded. This afforded Shen Tang a fleeting respite. In this moment, she pondered whether to use it to lament the absurdity of "a sword in the mother's hand," capable of conjuring an actual blade, or to bemoan her own plight—having foolishly attempted to catch the blade bare-handed.
As an artist devoted to her craft, she regarded her hands as more vital than her mind! Moments ago, consumed by fury, she recklessly reached for the spearhead with her precious right hand. Fortunately, no tendons were harmed, for without the ability to wield a brush, what joy would life hold?
Yet, the one who injured her right hand now faced her icy glare. Today, this "maternal figure" would impart a lesson to this oversized, overbearing son!
Amidst the deadlock between the two, Shen Tang's footwork faltered, causing the shimmering blade to graze the extended spear, swiftly closing the distance. Simultaneously, she softly recited the concluding phrase of her audacious chant—"Eighteen strikes in a single heartbeat, each a critical blow."
At the very moment she unleashed her blade, an intangible yet formidable force converged from her core to her right hand, not only rendering the weighty longsword as light as a feather but also imbuing her arm with the strength of eighteen superlative engines, leaving behind spectral remnants with each stroke. Indeed, "each strike a critical blow." Once limited to a single strike, she now wielded eighteen, each aimed directly at a vital point! The interplay of sword shadows and glints formed a deadly mesh.
In theory, such an onslaught could have transformed the chief constable's head into a pincushion, yet this world, indifferent to martial ethics and scientific principles, witnessed him crossing his arms in front, utilizing solidified black metal bracers to stubbornly endure the onslaught of eighteen strikes.
Unscathed! No, one cannot claim absolute impunity. At the very least, his hair ornaments were dislodged by her. Witnessing this scene, Shen Tang nearly erupted into a torrent of curses. Could this world ever be set right? If a third-rate hairpin could pose such a challenge, what of a twentieth-rate celestial being—would they not ascend on the spot?
The chief constable's demeanor grew increasingly focused, his countenance more somber. Seizing an opportune moment as Shen Tang's speed faltered, he unleashed a punch, casting forth a crimson fist-shadow. Shen Tang evaded just in time, and the fist-shadow crashed into the ground, creating a sizable crater.
The swirling sands obscured her vision. When clarity returned, a gleaming broadsword descended upon her. Forced to parry, she met the imposing force with a slight bend of her knees, sinking her center of gravity, and steadfastly intercepted the blow.
The resounding clash of steel rang in her ears, deafeningly surreal. The leader of the officials sneered, "I underestimated you!" With relentless vigor, he pressed forward. After a fierce struggle, both sides exhausted, yet he failed to apprehend the culprit.
Shen Tang's breath grew ragged, a thin sheen of sweat forming unnoticed upon her brow. It was to be noted that the strength of a third-grade zan-niao was two or three times that of a commoner, and with each swing, the official leader exerted his full might, aiming to cleave her in twain. She suspected her arm teetered on the brink of incapacitation from the intense pain, her mood markedly soured.
"Hmph, clearly I overestimated you." No need to put on airs with "I underestimated you"... just flaunting one's tongue!
"However, it ends here—" The leader of the officials, unaffected by Shen Tang's provocation, suppressed his anger and swiftly approached, but halted a yard before her, his thick eyebrows furrowing. He bellowed into the vacant space, "Who goes there?"
Shen Tang's heart skipped a beat at his words, a chill running down her spine. Were there others nearby?
Just then, a magnetic and deep male voice rolled into her ears. She heard the man speak calmly and deliberately, "The teeth may be firm, yet they are the first to fall; the tongue may be soft, yet it endures. Softness can overcome hardness, and weakness can conquer strength."
After hearing this, the leader of the officials turned ashen-faced.
As her words fell, Shen Tang unfurled a scroll of intertwined black and white, and the characters flew out, one by one, entering her body. In an instant, she was revitalized! The pain in her arm vanished, her breath steadied, and all expended energy returned. No, it exceeded beyond expectation! She had a premonition that if she drew her sword again, it wouldn't be eighteen strokes but thirty-six! This was clearly a friendly gesture! Could this be the belated benefit for novice time-travelers?
Watching Shen Tang swiftly recover, the leader of the officials cursed inwardly. Grinding his molars almost to the point of audibility, he uttered through clenched teeth, "Obstructing official duties warrants death!"
The man jested, "Then why not execute someone for me to witness?"
The leader of the officials remained adamant, "The Gong family defied the natural order, and you consorting with Gong's bandits, aren't you afraid of inviting trouble upon yourself?"
"Why the Gong family was wiped out, I understand better than you. Who the real thief is, remains to be seen."
Upon hearing this, the leader of the officials knew he had no chance. Continuing to engage would likely result in facing Shen Tang and the mysterious man together, spelling his demise! Reluctantly, he sheathed his sword and retreated, backing away from Shen Tang for three to five zhang before begrudgingly riding off.
Almost simultaneously, the characters beneath Shen Tang's feet dispersed. With their disappearance, Shen Tang, who had just been revitalized, returned to her previous state as if the buff's effects had been too short-lived. Crisis averted, she sat on the ground to regulate her breathing, incredulously staring at her own hands—she had managed to endure through the hellish beginning, reach the novice protection period, and even saved her own life...
"Surviving a great calamity brings great fortune!" Wiping away the sweat with a flick of her hand, Shen Tang raised her head to see a slender, slightly blue-lipped young man emerging from behind a tree. Hastily getting to her feet, she expressed her gratitude, "Many thanks for saving my life, sir."
The young man looked at Shen Tang, squinting as he assessed her for a moment before saying in a subdued tone, "No need for thanks. If it weren't for him discovering my trace and shouting out, merely based on you being a male heir of the Gong family, I wouldn't have wanted to save you, and might have even wanted to kill you."
Shen Tang's smile gradually froze at his words. Just escaped from the tiger's den, only to find herself in the wolf's lair... ???