Volume One: Grass on the Plain

Chapter One: Young Master Qin Arrives at the Treasure Land, A Small Test of Anti-Wolf Techniques

　　Lightning tore through the thick clouds, illuminating the night sky as if it were broad daylight.

　　The first spring thunder exploded immediately after. Accompanied by the deafening roar, bean-sized raindrops began to pelt the ground with a crackling sound. In an instant, the rain grew heavier and heavier, shrouding the capital in the darkness of night.

　　The city, bustling by day, was especially quiet in the rain. The raindrops fell on the eaves, in the courtyards, and on the roads, creating a noisy yet harmonious sound that lulled people to sleep. Indeed, the vast majority had long since fallen into peaceful slumber.

　　Except for a four-courtyard residence in the east of the city.

　　The courtyard was not large, its mottled walls silently telling of its long history. The yard was spacious and open, with four independent buildings connected by covered walkways—a traditional Eastern siheyuan layout.

　　At this moment, on the roof of the east wing of the inner residence, stood two people. An elderly man in brown clothes was holding an umbrella for the white-robed man beside him. The rain was so heavy that even with the umbrella, the white-robed man's shoulders were soaked, yet he stood motionless, intently watching the scene in the courtyard.

　　Following his gaze downward, there was a group of men in black fighting fiercely around the north house. About thirty people, divided into two sides, were locked in deadly combat. The attackers were clearly more adept at fighting in the dark; their weapons were painted black, so only when lightning flashed could their opponents see the dark but sharp blades thrusting at their vital points—often with no time to dodge. Each time the sound of a blade piercing flesh rang out, it claimed a life, or at least a part of a body.

　　The defending men in black watched their comrades fall one after another, yet showed not the slightest wavering, still resisting the powerful enemy with every blade and sword. They seemed not to know how to retreat, just like the fearless soldiers of Western Qin.

　　In the end, strength overwhelmed tenacity. The attackers used their numbers to pin down the defenders of the north house, sending several powerful assassins to break down the door—accompanied by a distorted scream from inside, the defense was breached.

　　By the bed inside stood a burly man with a bristling beard, dressed as a guard and holding a longsword, staring dumbfounded at the fair-skinned youth lying on the ground. Even the assassins who had burst in, seeing the frail youth suddenly let out a scream and collapse, were momentarily stunned.

　　The youth behind him seemed to have died of fright. The burly man, though shocked, knew that tonight was a doomed situation: if the person he was protecting died, even if he drove off the assassins, he would have no way out. Now, only by dying with his master might he protect his family far away.

　　Having made up his mind, the burly man glared with eyes like copper bells and let out a roar, swinging his longsword like a madman, aiming every strike at the enemy's vital points, completely abandoning defense—clearly intending to take down as many as he could. The assassins, seeing their main target seemingly dead, were unwilling to risk their lives, and were thrown into chaos by his onslaught.

　　But these assassins were ultimately elite and outnumbered him. Within a dozen exchanges, they regained the upper hand, switching from defense to offense. As blades clashed, one assassin locked the burly man's weapon, and almost simultaneously, another's sword darted like a viper at his left chest, piercing his leather armor in a flash—there seemed no way to avoid it, and the burly man's eyes bulged in desperation...

　　At that moment, the 'dead man' lying behind him suddenly kicked out with his right leg, landing squarely on the back of the burly man's ankle. The burly man staggered and fell backward, the longsword grazing his chest and splitting his armor in two, but allowing him to narrowly escape death.

　　Seeing the supposedly dead man suddenly spring to life, even the steely-hearted assassins were startled, their hands loosening in confusion.

　　The 'dead man' on the ground now opened his eyes, looking around in bewilderment.

　　Compared to the blood-curdling shouts outside, the silence inside the room at this moment was suffocating.

　　One of the assassins was the first to recover, darting forward and raising his blade to cleave the troublesome bastard in two. Just as everyone braced for a bloody scene, the assassin with the raised blade suddenly let out a howl, collapsed to the ground, clutching his lower abdomen, curling up like a shrimp, his whole body convulsing.

　　The blade, out of control, flew sideways, passing over the just-awakened man on the ground and stabbing toward the burly man's head as he was about to get up. Instinctively, the burly man performed an iron-bridge maneuver, falling back down heavily. The blade sank into the wood with a 'thunk,' stopping just an inch from his forehead.

　　The assassins hadn't seen what happened in that split second and had no time to think. Three of them immediately stepped forward, swinging their blades to hack at the man who had just come back to life, but he rolled and crawled away from their attacks.

　　Ryan Carter forcibly suppressed his emotions. The qualities of a top special forces instructor allowed him to bury his sense of absurdity and focus on the crisis at hand.

　　His body felt extremely weak, as if he were seriously ill. His movements were all off; just now, he had clearly aimed a kick at the man's lower abdomen, but it landed three inches too low.