Chapter 39: Unlucky

Wake up, wake up, wake up!

The annoying voice kept entering his mind, making the young man suddenly open his eyes.

What met his eyes was the blackened thatch, the glaring sunlight by the window.

It was the usual morning; his nose breathed the morning air—salty and damp. 

The fishing village always wafted fishy smells, mixed with an iron tang like human blood.

Wait…… blood smell.

Where was the blood smell coming from?

Nanxi realized something was wrong. After the sights and smells, the world’s sounds were screams—human screams.

Realizing a major event had occurred, Nanxi didn’t even put on his outer clothes; he simply straightened his inner white shirt, put on pants and shoes, took the crutch by the bed and the knife on the cutting board, and walked out the door.

The village was in chaos.

Women screamed and scattered in flight, some holding children, some dragging elders. 

Several figures with curved knives were chasing them; on the ground, several people already lay, blood spreading from under them.

Farther away, Nanxi saw two pirates dragging a young man into a house. 

The man struggled desperately, his clothes half-torn, face full of tears and despair.

“Let me go, please let go—”

The plea stopped abruptly, interrupted by a slap.

Nanxi gripped the knife hilt tight.

He limped toward there with the crutch; soon, a pirate spotted him, grinning to reveal yellow teeth, sauntering over with knife in hand.

“Yo, there’s a missed one here……”

The words weren’t finished; Nanxi’s knife had arrived.

Not a stab, but a slash—the blade grazed the pirate’s throat. 

The pirate’s smile froze, the knife clanged to the ground, hands clutched the neck, hot blood surging between the fingers.

She widened her eyes at Nanxi, seeming not to understand what happened, then fell straight down.

Nanxi didn’t stop, continuing forward.

Two more pirates noticed the commotion, exchanged glances, and flanked him left and right; they were clearly more cautious than the previous one, knives gripped tight, steps steady.

Nanxi said nothing.

When they were three steps away, he suddenly moved—the crutch propped on the ground, his whole body leaped with force. 

Though his left leg was useless, the power from his right leg was enough.

The young man twisted in the air, the short knife arcing a silver gleam—first slitting the left pirate’s throat; upon landing, the blade dragged back, stabbing straight into the right pirate’s heart.

The two pirates fell almost simultaneously.

Nanxi steadied himself with the crutch, his breathing somewhat rapid; the leg injury limited his movements, and that move had sent tearing pain through the wound, but he had no time to rest.

He looked toward the coast.

Huang Muzhi went to collect the nets every morning; she should still be there now.

Nanxi gritted his teeth and limped toward the sea. Along the way, he encountered three more groups of pirates, two each; he used the most efficient methods to deal with them—throat slashes, heart stabs, joint cuts, without wasting a single extra motion.

By the time he reached the village entrance, the white shirt on his body was already splattered with blood—some from his own sweat, but mostly others’ blood.

The scene at the seaside was even worse.

The beach was littered with villagers’ corpses—only women. 

A ship with black sails was anchored in the shallows; over a dozen pirates were moving looted grain, fishing nets, even pots and pans onto the ship.

Not far from the ship, Nanxi saw Huang Muzhi.

She was being pinned down by two pirates, kneeling on the beach.

A one-eyed pirate leader was holding a knife to her neck, the other hand roughly yanking her hair, forcing her to lift her head.

Huang Muzhi had slap marks on her face, blood at the corner of her mouth, but her eyes glared fixedly at the other, silent.

“Quite spirited, what a pity—you can’t come with us……”

A blade qi interrupted her words.

It wasn’t true blade qi; Nanxi’s internal energy couldn’t manifest yet—at most, it was shaped force resembling blade qi.

The one-eyed leader sensed the danger too late.

The short knife precisely slashed her knife-holding arm, the blade slicing through the forearm like cutting bamboo; the severed hand and knife dropped together onto the sand. 

The one-eyed leader was stunned for a moment before feeling the agony, screaming out.

In that instant, Nanxi moved.

With the crutch, he rushed over as fast as possible; every step sent drilling pain through his left leg, but he ignored it. 

Before the pirates could react, he reached Huang Muzhi’s side, pulled her up from the ground, and yanked her behind him.

“Young master……” Huang Muzhi’s voice trembled.

“Hide well.”

Nanxi said only that, his eyes fixed on the surroundings.

The pirates reacted now; seven or eight surrounded them. The one-eyed leader clutched her stump, face pale, but eyes full of venom.

“Kill him! Chop him to pieces for me!”

The pirates swarmed.

Nanxi had no weapon in hand; the short knife was still stuck in the distant sand, but he had the crutch.

He used the crutch as a sword—point, poke, sweep, chop; each move aimed at vitals. 

One pirate was poked in the throat, clutched it and fell; another was swept at the knee, the bone-cracking sound clearly audible.

But there were too many pirates.

And these weren’t ordinary rabble—their moves were methodical, coordination tacit.

Nanxi’s mobility was limited; he was gradually forced back, a slash landing on his back—not deep, but blood immediately soaked the shirt.

Just as a pirate’s knife was about to chop his shoulder.

“All stop.”

A voice came from the direction of the ship.

The pirates’ movements paused; they parted a path. 

A woman in green tight clothes walked slowly over—she looked in her forties, plain features, but sharp eyes, a narrow-bladed long knife in hand. Her steps were light, almost silent.

A practitioner.

And an expert.

Nanxi’s heart sank; he felt internal energy fluctuations from this woman—a martial artist.

The green-clothed woman stopped three steps before Nanxi, eyed him up and down; her gaze lingered on the bloodied white shirt and the crutch on his leg for a moment, then she suddenly smiled.

“Interesting. A pretty little cripple killed seven of my subordinates. Little brother, which sect do you hail from?”

Nanxi didn’t answer, just gripped the crutch tight.

“Don’t want to say? Fine.” 

The green-clothed woman didn’t mind and continued on her own. 

“Your moves look like the Dao sect’s style, but the Dao sect declined long ago—I heard they all fled to Zhou. How did you end up in this backwater? Mixing with a bunch of fishermen.”

“Whatever, I’m too lazy to pry. Your looks are quite the beauty—rare in the world. Though you’ve got a crippled leg, you could still fetch a good price in the brothels.”

The green-clothed woman shouldered her long knife.

“Introduce myself: I’m Liu Qi—used to have the nickname Water-Severing Blade in the jianghu, had some fame. Pity, those Liang officials say knights-errant violate the bans with martial arts and treat us jianghu folk like thieves; had to switch trades, do some no-capital business.”

She looked at Nanxi, her eyes like seeing a pile of gold.

“Kid, you coming with me yourself, or do I break your other leg and take you?”

Nanxi was silent.

He calculated quickly in his mind: this Liu Qi was probably in the early acquired realm, her internal energy weaker than his, but her knife skills were likely not bad. 

With his leg unhealed, the outcome of a fight was uncertain.

And there were still over a dozen pirates around……

“Young master, run……” 

Huang Muzhi whispered behind him.

But Nanxi knew clearly that he couldn’t run.

With his leg like this, he couldn’t run at all—and if he ran, what about Huang Muzhi?

He took a deep breath, switched the crutch to his left hand, and made a starting pose with his right hand in a virtual grip.

Liu Qi raised an eyebrow. 

“Want to fight? You’ve got spine.”

She wasted no more words; her long knife shook and thrust straight at Nanxi’s face.