Hearts Aligned - Chapter 3

Jingzhe did not immediately turn around. Instead, he looked toward the curtain of rain. “I have no interest in anything concerning you. Why not take a step back, and we can act as if we never met today?”

Before his words had fully settled, the dark barrel of a firelock abruptly pointed at him.

Xiliu reacted quickly, pulling Jingzhe aside just as a flash of fire burst forth. A bamboo pole supporting the crude stable splintered, and half of the thatched roof collapsed.

Jingzhe, pushed roughly, stumbled into the tea pavilion and fell to the ground. As he looked up, he saw through the misty rain a figure in purple drawing twin blades. The figure leapt through the muddy water, charging toward the attacker.

With a flash of her blades, water splashed onto the man’s face. She landed before him in a blur of movement. The man pulled the trigger, but Xiliu’s twin blades were already pressing against the firelock, redirecting the barrel skyward. With a deafening bang, she swept her blades outward, knocking the weapon into the mud.

Forced back by her assault, the man didn’t even have time to retrieve his firelock. He quickly grabbed a long blade from a fallen bandit and fixed his eyes on the young woman in the rain.
Raindrops struck their blades with a ringing sound.
He could no longer underestimate this woman, who looked barely in her twenties.

“You’ve had military training, wielding a firelock no less. You seem to have some rank, so why hide in a box, afraid to face the light of day?” Xiliu’s voice was cold, like morning dew dripping into a chill.

The man’s expression darkened as he realized his techniques had been seen through. After a brief pause, his gaze lingered on her twin blades before he replied, “A girl like you—why would you practice such a life-shortening style?”

Ignoring his question, Xiliu responded, “If you think my life will be short, why not spare me for now?”

“If there’s blame to be had,” the man planted his feet firmly, raising his blade, “it’s on that reckless boy you’re traveling with.”

With that, he charged forward.

The rain fell steadily, shrouding the world in mist. Xiliu dodged his kicks, delivering a sharp kick to his knee in return. Yet the man, a veteran of the battlefield, didn’t falter from the pain. Instead, it seemed to ignite his fury, and he swung his heavy blade down with ferocious strength. Xiliu blocked with her right blade, but his immense power caused her to falter, the blade pressing heavily against her shoulder.

“Women, after all, lack the strength for this style,” the man remarked, his voice tinged with mocking regret.

Xiliu’s eyes flashed as she suddenly leaned back, twisting her body. Her left blade lashed out, slicing a gash into his arm.
The man stepped back, glancing at his bleeding arm before locking his predatory gaze back on the woman in purple. His excitement only seemed to grow at the sight of blood.

Despite the numbing pain in her hands, Xiliu gripped her blades tightly. As he raised his blade for another strike, she charged forward. Sparks flew as their blades clashed, water spraying everywhere. His attacks became fiercer, carrying the weight of murderous intent.

Thunder roared in the distance.

Huaruodan jolted awake, startled by the thunderclap. She sat up abruptly, nausea overwhelming her for a moment. As her vision cleared, she saw the chaotic scene—the ground littered with bodies.

She let out a scream and turned to see Jingzhe standing under the eaves, watching the rain where faint sounds of battle echoed.

She ran to him. “Young master, what… what is happening here?”
But Jingzhe didn’t respond. His eyes were fixed on the two figures battling in the rain. Suddenly, his pupils contracted. “Xiliu! Watch out!”

Huaruodan followed his gaze and gasped.

A steel projectile shot out from the man’s sleeve. Xiliu narrowly dodged but was struck in the abdomen by the hilt of his blade. She stumbled backward and fell into the mud, coughing up blood.

“Sir Xiliu!” Huaruodan cried in shock.

The man didn’t give Xiliu a moment to recover. He raised his blade and closed the distance. Jingzhe hurled a throwing knife, its sound masked by the heavy rain. Caught off guard, the knife struck the man’s right arm, causing his grip to falter.

Seizing the moment, Xiliu got back on her feet, but the man turned toward the tea pavilion, charging at the boy inside.
Xiliu intercepted him with a blade, forcing him back. “Get inside!” she shouted.

Jingzhe, taking no chances, pulled Huaruodan away.

In the rain, the purple and black figures clashed continuously. Huaruodan clutched her handkerchief tightly. “Young master, are you really not going to help Sir Xiliu? That man seems so strong… How can she handle him alone?”

Jingzhe shot her a sharp glare, silencing her.

“Is there anything important left in the carriage?” he asked coldly.

Terrified by his grim demeanor, Huaruodan shook her head after a moment.

“Take your belongings from the table. We’re leaving through the mountain path behind,” Jingzhe ordered, cutting through a bamboo panel to make an exit.

Reluctantly, Huaruodan glanced back at the battling figures but said nothing more. She gathered her belongings and followed him through the makeshift opening.

Meanwhile, the battle raged on. Xiliu, overwhelmed by the man’s strength, knelt in the mud. His blade pressed dangerously close to her neck. Raindrops dripped down her face as she gritted her teeth, trembling under the pressure.

Just as the blade was about to draw blood, Xiliu suddenly dropped her resistance, throwing herself backward into the mud.

The unexpected move startled the man, giving her just enough time to grab the throwing knife lodged in his arm and drive it deeper.

The pain was excruciating. He instinctively pushed her away, but his injured arm slowed him down. Xiliu’s twin blades slashed across his torso, drawing several bloody lines.

He retaliated with a heavy blow to her shoulder, but she didn’t retreat. Instead, she twisted her body, kicking him square in the chest. He fell heavily to the ground, and when he looked up, her twin blades were crossed at his throat.

“Master Tan!” one of the caravan leaders cried out in alarm.
“The knife… it’s poisoned,” the man muttered, realization dawning on him as the pain in his arm worsened.

“My companion enjoys using poison,” Xiliu said, her voice hoarse from exertion and the rain. “But the downpour today diluted its potency. It hurts, but it won’t kill you.”

The man glared at her with the ferocity of a cornered beast. “I can’t tell if you’re someone who values your life… or someone who doesn’t.”

Her relentless attacks made it hard to believe she cared for her own survival.

The wet mud, mixed with small stones, pressed painfully into Xiliu’s knees. Her trembling hands gripped the hilts of her blades as rain relentlessly pelted her face. She clenched her teeth tightly.

The sharp edge of the man’s blade crept closer by the inch as he applied even more force. But at that exact moment, Xiliu suddenly let go of her resistance, falling backward into the mud.

The man was taken aback and instinctively tried to retreat. However, Xiliu flipped over swiftly in the mud and grabbed the throwing knife still embedded in his arm, driving it in deeper.
The searing pain made the veins on the man’s forehead bulge. He barely managed to raise his blade to deflect her next attack. However, his injured arm slowed him down, leaving an opening. Xiliu’s twin blades slashed across his waist, carving deep wounds into his flesh.

The man struck her shoulder with his palm, but she didn’t retreat. Instead, she twisted her body and delivered a powerful kick to his chest. He fell heavily to the ground. As he glanced downward, he saw her twin blades embedded in the mud, now crossed against his throat.

“Master Tan!”

The caravan manager’s face turned pale with fright.
“The throwing knife… it’s poisoned.”

The man finally realized why his arm throbbed so intensely, to the point where he could barely hold his blade.

“My companion enjoys using poison. Unfortunately, today’s rain has diluted its potency,” Xiliu said hoarsely, her face stained with blood that had not yet been washed away by the rain. As a practitioner of the twin-blade style, she was used to enduring physical strain, but her ribs now ached terribly. Rainwater choking her throat left her voice raspy. “It hurts, but it won’t kill you.”

The man glared at her fiercely, his expression a mix of rage and disbelief. After a moment, he said, “I can’t tell if you value your life or not.”

Her relentless and merciless techniques didn’t reflect the actions of someone who cherished her life.

“Against someone like you, the only way to survive is to act like I don’t value my life,” she replied coldly.

Rainwater trickled down the silver leaf ornament in her hair.
“Then what are you waiting for?”

“You’re heading to the northwest to fight the Darta people,” she said suddenly.

It wasn’t a question but a statement. Her tone was resolute, and the ferocity on the man’s face momentarily froze. He looked up sharply.

From the caravan manager’s earlier cry of “Master Tan” and the direction they intended to deliver their grain supplies, Xiliu had already deduced his identity.

“I really should kill you,” he said, his voice thick with killing intent. “What? Are you going to let me go instead?”
Before he could finish, the twin blades crossed at his throat were withdrawn.

“You…”

The man was stunned. Watching her sheath her blades, he immediately reached for the long blade beside him.

“My companions have already gone far, and the relay station isn’t too far from here. Plenty of people would love to see you dead,” Xiliu said coolly, casting a glance at the blade in his hand. “Are you sure you want to waste time here?”

Hearing this, the man instinctively turned toward the tea pavilion. Indeed, the boy had disappeared at some point.

He watched as Xiliu walked into the tea pavilion. A moment later, she emerged, carrying a tabby cat in her arms. She slowly tucked the feline into her cloth pouch.

“You’re not afraid that sparing me today will result in me sending someone to kill you tomorrow?” he asked.

“We’re strangers. How would you know anything about me?” Xiliu smirked. “The vast lands of this empire—why would you go to such lengths for someone as insignificant as me? Besides, you’re heading to the northwest. Even your whip won’t reach me there.”
“Are you letting me go because of the Darta people?” the man asked as she turned to leave.

Xiliu didn’t look back. “I hope you and your brother kill more Darta people and reclaim Wanxia Pass soon.”

The man froze.

The rain poured like a waterfall as he stared at the woman’s thin, retreating figure. She shielded the cat’s head with one hand while the silver ornaments at her waist gleamed brightly in the rain.

“Master Tan, we should leave quickly!”

The caravan manager, supported by others, barely managed to stand.

The man said nothing, using his blade to push himself upright. Just then, a gunshot echoed with a loud bang. He whipped around, only to see a gaping, bloody wound in the caravan manager’s chest.

Another bang followed.

Looking down, he realized a hole had opened in his own chest as well.

Xiliu turned just in time to see the burly Master Tan collapse. An object fell from his sleeve, and amidst the hazy rain, muzzle flashes lit up. The remaining members of the caravan fell one by one.

Xiliu quickly dashed forward, bending to pick up the fallen object.

At that moment, several figures emerged from the shadows, draped in rain cloaks and wearing straw hats. They locked their eyes on the lone conscious survivor—Xiliu. Without hesitation, she turned and fled, her light-footed technique carrying her swiftly away.

A shot rang out, grazing her shoulder.

Xiliu fell onto the opposite side of the official road. The armed men, now advancing with firelocks in hand, paused upon hearing the unmistakable sound of hoofbeats rising above the rain.

More people were coming. Many more.

The leader of the group glanced into the distance, spotting the faint outlines of riders approaching. He waved his hand, signaling his men. They drew their blades and entered the tea pavilion. Moments later, they re-emerged, their weapons stained with fresh blood.

Without delay, they retreated.

Only then did Xiliu move slightly. She placed her palm on the muddy ground, trying to push herself up, but lacked the strength. The rain had lessened, and the approaching riders’ presence grew more distinct.

She barely managed to lift her head and saw, through the curtain of rain, the faint silhouettes of mounted figures.

Trouble.

She closed her eyes, sighing inwardly.

Suddenly—

The dense grass by the roadside rustled faintly.

Xiliu’s eyes snapped open just as a hand emerged from the grass, grabbing her arm and dragging her down.

“Master Zhao, there’s something suspicious here!”

One of the mounted constables scouting ahead spotted the carnage and immediately turned to shout.

“What happened here? Who are all these people?”

The county magistrate, Master Zhao, rode forward, his expression darkening as he took in the grisly scene.

The sound of voices and hoofbeats filled the official road.
Beneath the endless sea of grass was a low-lying area overgrown with vegetation. Xiliu gripped the hilts of her blades at her waist, while the hand that had pulled her down was now clamped firmly over her mouth.

Amid the dripping rain, the boy beside her appeared no older than seventeen. His round-collared silk robe was stained with mud, but his clear, clean eyes showed no trace of panic despite the situation.

In the dim, grayish light, he suddenly let her go. He then picked up the tabby cat that had slipped from her pouch, its muddy fur bristling as it hissed threateningly.

The boy froze, his outstretched hand hovering mid-air.

The rain was now a faint drizzle, but it couldn’t mask the commotion nearby. Growing visibly anxious, he glanced at Xiliu, speaking softly and politely:
“…Could you make it stop meowing?”