Chapter 49: Slaying the Xiongnu, the Mandarin Duck Swords

Chapter 49: Slaying the Xiongnu, Mandarin Duck Twin Blades

Ning Xishi winced at the pain, his brows furrowing immediately. The worst injury he had ever suffered growing up was a ruler strike on the palm from his teacher—being slashed with such a long gash now was agonizing beyond anything he'd ever felt.

"I don't care who you are. Since you dared to come, don't expect to walk out of here."

Their weapons clashed, sending sparks flying with a sharp crackle. This was a contest of pure brute force, and Ning Xishi was forced onto the back foot, more blood gushing from the fresh gash on his arm.

Wanyan Dahong hadn't expected Ning Xishi to say such a thing, nor had he expected the voice beneath the helmet to sound so young.

—The Central Plains really was a breeding ground for talent. That Xie Jingxing was only twenty-three, and now here was an even younger general!

Wanyan Dahong sneered: "Let you go? My purpose in coming here is to chop off your head!"

With that, he slammed his weapon into Ning Xishi, sending him staggering back a dozen steps. Ning Xishi felt his chest swelling, as if blood might burst from his chest.

But there was no time to think—the situation was too dire. Ning Xishi leaped into the air and brought his sword down in a vertical cleave.

His swordwork was quick and unpredictable, and with this approach, he managed to hold his own against Wanyan Dahong for a while.

But Wanyan Dahong's strength was simply too great. Every time their weapons met, Ning Xishi was jarred to the bone, blood churning in his chest.

Finally, after being blasted back yet again, Ning Xishi dropped to one knee and coughed up a mouthful of blood.

An icy, slightly sticky sensation churned in his throat and nose. It should have hurt like hell, but oddly enough, Ning Xishi felt nothing. He flipped his longsword around, using it like a cane to push himself unsteadily to his feet. His vision seemed coated in a bloody haze, everything tinted gray and red.

"Boy, at your age, passing yourself off as Xie Jingxing—you must be one of his trusted men." Wanyan Dahong walked up to Ning Xishi, raising his long blade high, bloodlust gleaming in his eyes. "I, Wanyan Dahong, make a habit of killing everyone Xie Jingxing holds dear. I killed his master with my own hands—hung the bastard's head from my war banner for ten straight days. And that Xie Jingxing stood there, eyes bloodshot, watching for all ten days."

Wanyan Dahong brought his blade down hard: "After you die, I'll hang your head from my banner too. Now die easy—"

Before he could finish speaking, Wanyan Dahong suddenly felt something was off. He felt something scalding hot trickling down his neck, dripping like poured wine.

But his hands—why couldn't he muster any strength in his hands...

The last thing Wanyan Dahong ever saw was his own chest, and the soft sword lying across his throat.

Ning Xishi didn't need to explain. Wanyan Dahong recognized the technique. "Gao Qingbin's Mandarin Duck Twin Blades."

The name Gao Qingbin might not ring a bell, but he had another title—the former chief of the Beggar Clan.

His only daughter had wanted to join the army, so she disguised herself as a man and enlisted, racking up considerable merit along the way. But in her final battle, she was defeated by a then-unknown Wanyan Daheng—Wanyan Dahong's older brother.

When Gao Qingbin found out, he traveled a thousand miles to avenge his daughter, cutting down Wanyan Daheng—who by then was worthy of becoming a lord of ten thousand households—in front of the entire army.

He used these very Mandarin Duck Twin Blades.

It was said that whoever wielded these blades could only use them once in their lifetime, because they required the master's own blood to unleash their full power.

After that, Gao Qingbin vanished from the martial arts world, and the once-thriving Beggar Clan slowly faded into obscurity along with him.

Ning Xishi, mouth full of blood, said, "That's right."

As the words left his mouth, even more blood spilled out. His master had warned him long ago: never activate the Mandarin Duck Sword unless absolutely necessary—the more he used it, the faster the backlash would eat away at him.

It would take years off his life, too.

And if he was already badly wounded, using the sword would only make things worse...

Ning Xishi had thought he'd never have to use this sword in his entire life.

"Master... it hurts..."

Wanyan Dahong's body hit the ground, lifeless, his long blade clattering beside him.

Then, completely spent, Ning Xishi toppled backward—

Qiu Changyu had just finished settling things when he got word of an enemy attack here. What he saw when he arrived was this exact scene.

With his sharp eyes, he recognized Wanyan Dahong instantly. He knew exactly how strong the man was—even in his old age, Wanyan Dahong was still a force to be reckoned with among the Mongols, especially on horseback.

Even Qiu Changyu himself couldn't be sure he'd walk away from a fight with him alive.

If Young Master Ning got hurt here—Qiu Changyu didn't think twice. He vaulted off his horse and sprinted toward Ning Xishi. "General! General!"

He pressed his fingers to the side of Ning Xishi's neck and felt a weak pulse. Qiu Changyu's heart dropped back into place. But when he lifted Ning Xishi up, he found the young man soaked in blood—the armor on his arm torn off, his right arm completely drenched.

This—Young Master Ning had bled this much!

Qiu Changyu had to admit: he could never have kept fighting with wounds this bad. Compared to that, he felt utterly ashamed of himself.

The deputy general rushed over to check too, stunned. "Wanyan Dahong is dead—the general killed Wanyan Dahong!"

Hearing that, Qiu Changyu's heart nearly stopped. How old was Young Master Ning? Barely eighteen—and he had single-handedly slain Wanyan Dahong!

Wanyan Dahong, the legend of the grasslands!

Who would believe this was a pampered young master who had never set foot on a battlefield and insisted on fine Jiangnan silk for his bedding!

"The general personally slew Wanyan Dahong!"

"Our general is incredible!"

The voices around him clamored noisily, but Qiu Changyu's movements as he carried Ning Xishi on his back were exceptionally gentle. He felt genuine reverence for Young Master Ning now.

If before he had merely humored Young Master Ning as the general's companion, now he admired Ning even more than he respected his own general.

"General, don't fall asleep. We're almost at the camp. I've already sent men on fast horses to fetch the Master Healer. You'll be fine—you'll definitely be fine." Qiu Changyu didn't even notice the panic creeping into his own voice.

It wasn't fear of the general's reprimand. It was because this person was Ning Xishi—the Ning Xishi who had single-handedly slain Wanyan Dahong.

"What? General, what did you say?" Qiu Changyu heard some muttering at his ear and quickly leaned in to listen.

"I..." Damn it. It had "come true" again.

This book really was a book of prophecy.

Before Ning Xishi lost consciousness, the words from the original novel surfaced inexplicably before his eyes.

"Ning Xishi incurred the displeasure of Xie Jingxing, the General of the Western Expedition. In this lawless border region, without the general's protection, anyone could bully him.

And Ning Xishi happened to be rather handsome. When a certain woman stole an extra glance at him, her husband directly ordered his men to pin him to the ground and beat him viciously. No matter how Ning Xishi begged for mercy, it was useless. In the end, he spat blood and lay at death's door."

If Ning Xishi hadn't passed out so quickly, he might have seen the next passage—

"Because his head had been brutally struck, combined with excessive blood loss and no effective treatment, by the time the general's household picked him up like some discarded plaything, he had become completely addled—a simpleton who drooled when he spoke."

Regardless of the circumstances, Ning Xishi had now lost too much blood, was severely wounded, and lay at death's door.

Xie Jingxing was, after all, a battle-hardened grand general. When he had deployed his forces the previous day, he had sensed the situation was dire from the tremors in the earth. He hadn't slept all night, changing horses three times, and finally arrived three li outside the military camp just as Qiu Changyu was sending men out.

Upon hearing that Ning Xishi was severely wounded, Xie Jingxing shot to his feet in alarm.

The Master Healer had intended to stop him and urge him to stay calm—there was only one day left, so what was the rush? Besides, Ning Xishi was currently posing as the general, so he was sure to have guards around him. Even if he was hurt, how bad could it be?

But Xie Jingxing just stood right up.

The Master Healer was taken aback and hurriedly reached for Xie Jingxing's wrist to take his pulse, only for Xie Jingxing to grab his arm and dash toward the general's tent.

"Slow down, I'm an old man, I can't run that fast."

Xie Jingxing's heart was racing. He felt like something was slipping away from him, reminding him of the morning his master waved goodbye to him, only to fall beneath Wanyan Dahong's blade; and of how his father had said he'd fly kites with him the next day, only to have a stroke and die a few days later...

Fate had taken away the most precious people around him one after another. He'd finally managed to keep Ning Xishi close—even without getting a response from him—and he treasured him day and night, afraid that speaking it aloud would let Heaven notice and jinx them.

But...

But right now, his heart was still racing.

Xie Jingxing felt as if his heart would leap out of his chest. The Master Healer also sensed something was wrong with Xie Jingxing, so he shut up and just tried to keep up with him.

Finally, they reached the tent. Seeing the soldiers carrying out basin after basin of bloody water, the Master Healer was startled and rushed inside without a second thought.

Meanwhile, Xie Jingxing, his face concealed by a hat with a veil, felt his limbs go weak and a cold feeling rising from deep in his heart.

When Qiu Changyu saw the Master Healer, he quickly explained the general situation, then stepped out and spotted Xie Jingxing standing at the entrance.

He quickly ushered him in and repeated what he'd just told the Master Healer.

In truth, Qiu Changyu was not familiar with the specifics of the battle; all he could say was how brutal Ning Xishi's wounds were.

Every word felt like a knife slicing flesh from Xie Jingxing's heart—skin and blood, ground into pulp.

"Not good, too much blood loss," the Master Healer said. "At this rate, even if he recovers, his mind may be affected."

Qiu Changyu hastily asked, "What do you mean?"

"Our brains also need blood to nourish them. With the general losing so much blood at once, his brain could easily lose vitality from the lack of blood..."

As he spoke, the Master Healer produced silver needles. "Fortunately, we arrived early—there may still be a chance. I will do my utmost."

"I'm counting on you, Master Healer." This was said by Xie Jingxing, his voice laced with utter panic, so clear that even Qiu Changyu heard it.

Qiu Changyu opened his mouth, then leaned close to Xie Jingxing's ear and whispered, "These wounds were inflicted by Wanyan Dahong. That man was strong and favored killing by draining blood."

Before Xie Jingxing could speak, Qiu Changyu added, "But Young Master Ning is truly formidable. He used his last ounce of strength to kill Wanyan Dahong—with the Mandarin Duck Swords that slew Wanyan Daheng all those years ago."

==========Author's Note:==========

Good night.