Chapter 15: Blades in the Snowstorm
This novel is translated and hosted on BCatranslation
A fierce wind roared through the darkness like a restless ghost, rattling the bare branches and tossing fresh snow into wild swirls. All around, the world vanished beneath thick layers of white, as heavy flakes poured down from a sky almost as black as ink. It felt as though the entire night had been swallowed by winter’s hungry jaws.
Qin Ming trudged onward, alone in the howling blizzard. Ahead lay the Mountain Patrol’s camp, sheltered near the foot of a slope. Not long ago, he had decided to carry along the bow and arrows he’d found. He might have called it a “soft bow,” but it was still far better than the old iron-bound bow he once used. With his choice settled, he had pushed forward despite the storm.
Snow stung his cheeks and forehead, forcing him to half-close his eyes. Earlier, he had traded his heavier, warmer clothes for armor, then added a thin coat on top, hoping it would keep him light and mobile. He had hidden the bow, arrows, and other gear in a snowy hollow, pressing heavy stones over the spot to keep them safe. Then, gripping the four iron spears he had taken from the Mountain Patrol, he started his climb again, step by careful step.
Soon, Qin Ming was creeping up toward the ridge. He was only a few dozen meters away from a broad clearing he knew lay just ahead. Were it not for the howling wind and whirling snow, the large gold-striped mastiff guarding the camp would have caught his scent by now. As it was, the mastiff seemed uneasy. Its ears twitched, and its paws shifted anxiously in the drifts.
From one of the sturdier cabins below, a thin slice of light glowed through the window, flickering as it danced over the figures inside. Qin Ming could barely make out their shadows and the low hum of voices, muffled by the storm. He could picture them huddled around a copper pot, cooking hot yak meat. They were chatting, enjoying strong drink, and their laughter rose and fell over the crackle of firewood.
“The Fire Spring in the Blood Bamboo Forest is weakening,” one man said, his voice drifting faintly into the night. “This might be our best chance to go after that spirit beast. We should plan ahead…”
Qin Ming strained to catch more details, but the mastiff had begun to prowl, ears flattened. Any moment now, it would sense him. He couldn’t afford to hesitate. Gritting his teeth, he raised his “soft bow” and nocked an arrow. He aimed at the cabin’s window, fixing his sights on the largest silhouette inside. Then he fired—one arrow after another—each darting into the cabin with a sharp whoosh.
A muffled cry sounded within. The shapes inside dropped low and then reacted instantly. The door burst open, and figures lunged out, using whatever they could grab—tables, doors—as makeshift shields. They pressed themselves behind trees and rocks, eyes narrowing, scanning the snowy darkness for their attacker.
The mastiff barked, deep and furious. Its snarls shook the snow from tree limbs as it charged straight at Qin Ming. Fueled by rage and instinct, the great hound bounded over drifts, each leap carrying it closer.
Qin Ming refused to be distracted. He knocked another arrow and aimed carefully at Fu En Tao, the Second Awakener among the patrol. The others were dangerous, but not nearly as threatening as him. If he could wound Fu En Tao, it would be worth more than cutting down any ordinary fighter.
Yet luck wasn’t on his side. Fu En Tao dodged most arrows, and the one that hit barely scratched him. His special armor kept him safe, allowing only a shallow wound. With a smooth, practiced motion, Fu En Tao swung his blade to swat aside incoming arrows. Ducking behind trees, he advanced swiftly toward Qin Ming. He could tell from the arrow strength that Qin Ming hadn’t reached a Second Awakening, which made him believe that this mysterious attacker couldn’t be too hard to handle.
But Qin Ming’s borrowed bow simply couldn’t handle the full force of his draw. With a sharp crack, the bow splintered in his hands. He tossed it aside in frustration.
The gold-striped mastiff was almost on him now, jaws wide and steaming in the icy air. Its roar echoed through the forest. Just as the beast soared at him, poised to sink its fangs into his flesh, Qin Ming whipped an iron spear from his back and hurled it with all his might. The spear shot through the air like a bolt of lightning and struck the mastiff’s skull with a sickening crunch. The creature’s fierce eyes went dim in an instant. It toppled with a heavy thud, flinging snow in every direction. It landed just five meters away from Qin Ming, unmoving forever.
From behind the trees, Feng Yi An cried out in horror, “Goldie!” His voice cracked with loss. Qin Ming felt fury tighten inside his chest. These people cared more about a guard dog than the suffering villagers down below. It made his blood boil.
Seizing another spear, Qin Ming hurled it toward Feng Yi An. The bearded man saw it coming at the last instant and swung his sword, sparks flying as steel met iron. The impact nearly jolted the blade from his hand. He staggered, shocked by the raw strength behind the throw. The spear hurtled onward, smashing through a cabin door with a roar of splintering wood.
Just then, Fu En Tao, nearly two meters tall and brimming with force, rushed across the snow toward Qin Ming. He was barely ten meters away now, moving as fast as a winter storm. With a grunt, Qin Ming hoisted another spear and hurled it straight at him. The weapon cut the air with a deadly whistle.
Fu En Tao’s sharpened senses guided him. He slipped aside gracefully, allowing the spear to streak past without so much as grazing him. He didn’t slow down, determined to close the gap.
But that had been Qin Ming’s plan all along. Fu En Tao’s companion behind him hadn’t spotted the spear in time. With a startled scream, the man was impaled. Armor cracked; he was driven into a thick tree trunk, blood soaking the snow. He shuddered once, then went limp, nailed in place like a broken doll.
Seeing this, Feng Yi An and Shao Cheng Feng felt an icy chill slide down their backs. They took a few nervous steps backward, suddenly unsure of themselves.
Fu En Tao’s face darkened. Now he was only a single leap away. His curly black hair whipped back in the wind, and his heavy fur cloak flapped wildly. Brandishing his wide, specially crafted sword, he brought it down toward Qin Ming as though trying to cleave an entire mountain in half.
Qin Ming moved with surprising calm. He sidestepped at the very last moment and raised his last iron spear to catch the blade. Sparks flew as metal screamed against metal. Fu En Tao gaped inwardly—this was no ordinary teen. For a moment, he wondered if Qin Ming might have awakened a second time after all.
They strained against each other, the sword and spear locked. Qin Ming slipped his right hand free and swung his chopping knife at Fu En Tao’s chest. The big man’s eyes narrowed. He jerked up his left arm, protected by a black steel bracer etched with beastly patterns. Qin Ming’s blade struck it with a ringing clash, and Fu En Tao felt his arm go numb. When he pulled back, retreating like a startled wolf, he saw a crack in the bracer. Qin Ming’s raw strength had nearly broken it.
Fu En Tao realized he had severely underestimated this youth. He asked, voice colder now, “Who are you, and why are you attacking us?” He had thought Qin Ming a foolish boy who could be beaten easily, then questioned at leisure. Now, he wasn’t so certain. Could this be some noble’s child from the city, dressed oddly to trick them?
Qin Ming offered no reply. He just raised his spear and angled his knife, stepping forward with calm determination. Though young, he carried himself like a seasoned fighter. This unsettled Fu En Tao, who tried to guess at the stranger’s origin.
Then Qin Ming stepped into the glow of the firelight. Seeing his face more clearly, Feng Yi An and Shao Cheng Feng gasped in shock.
“Y-You’re… Qin Ming from Twin Trees Village?!” blurted Feng Yi An, eyes wide with disbelief. He had glimpsed this boy before and remembered him as a newly Awakened youth—an untested fighter at best.
Qin Ming said nothing. Instead, he lunged forward. The spear darted out as fast as a striking serpent, stirring the snow into a small explosion of white powder. He moved so quickly that for a moment it seemed as though he might vanish into the swirling drifts.
Fu En Tao shouted, trying to keep his underlings steady, “Surround him! Don’t let him slip away. I want him alive!” He raised his sword threateningly, hoping to rally the others. “If we take him down now, this ends tonight!”
Another Mountain Patrol member, a hulking figure with thick arms, crept forward, blade ready. He didn’t charge straight in—no fool would—yet by edging closer, he hoped to pressure Qin Ming from one side. Feng Yi An and Shao Cheng Feng stepped in, trying to close off any escape. Their presence, looming in the corners of Qin Ming’s vision, made the boy’s path narrower with each breath.
Fu En Tao slashed downward, sparks flying again as Qin Ming blocked. The two clashed, their weapons singing in the night. Qin Ming’s spear struck swiftly, and Fu En Tao’s sword answered like crackling lightning in a storm. The battle carried them farther, first circling the Fire Spring’s light and then drifting toward the darker forest.
Watching them, Feng Yi An and Shao Cheng Feng were stunned. Was this really the same Qin Ming? Had he grown this powerful so quickly? Even Fu En Tao was struggling to gain the upper hand.
The other patrol members followed warily, forming a loose ring to trap Qin Ming. As the fight wove in and out between snow-laden branches, the trees shuddered beneath heavy strikes. Branches cracked and crashed, tumbling to the forest floor in splintered heaps.
Suddenly, a shadow swung down from a high branch—a trained snow ape, its silver-white fur blending perfectly with the blizzard’s fury. It dropped silently, aiming its razor-sharp claws right at Qin Ming’s neck. The creature had been waiting for a chance to strike from above while the boy’s back was turned.
But Qin Ming had sensed its presence long ago. He shifted his footing at the last instant. The ape’s claws met empty air. In that single, smooth motion, Qin Ming swung his chopping knife backward. There was a sickening crunch as the blade cleaved the ape in two. Blood sprayed as the creature screeched, its cry ending abruptly as the halves dropped into the snow, leaving only a lifeless mess on the whitened ground.