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53. Killers Don't Walk Away
🕑 Added 2025-06-01 22:00:05 +0000 UTCThere was no time to plan.
Fortunately, Jiang was great at thinking on his feet – though he doubted the rest of the guards would agree with his actions. Fortunately, they were too slow to stop him.
The glint of steel at the woman’s throat was a razor’s edge between life and death, a bead of crimson already welling as the bandit’s grip shifted. In the moment, Jiang didn’t care that he didn’t even know the woman’s name – all he cared about was that another fucking bandit was threatening someone he was supposed to protect.
Which is why he let his sword fall from his grip.
He could read the confusion on the bandit’s face, to say nothing of the guard’s startled shouts. Faced with the threat of an incoming cultivator – who seemed to have left himself open to an attack, no less – the bandit made the obvious choice. The blade left the woman’s skin, arcing towards Jiang.
A flicker of grim understanding, almost satisfaction, passed through Jiang as the bandit took the bait.
If he was faster, he might have been able to dodge the attack. If he had been better at fighting, he could have prevented the situation from ever occurring in the first place. If he was a proper cultivator, he would be able to strike the man dead at thirty paces with a glance. But Jiang was none of those things, so instead, he made the only move he could live with.
Even if it killed him.
Jiang felt the searing pain an instant before the impact registered, a white-hot agony that ripped through his side and stole his breath. The dagger bit deep, grating against bone. He gasped, his forward momentum carrying him into the bandit, but even as the blade tore through muscle and sinew, his hands shot out. Not to block, not to parry, but to grab.
His fingers closed around the bandit’s dagger arm in a crushing grip, Qi flaring erratically through his own limbs, turning his hold into an iron vice. The bandit snarled, trying to pull free, to twist the blade deeper, but Jiang held on, teeth gritted against the waves of nausea and the dizzying throb that pulsed from the wound, his entire focus narrowing to that single point of contact, to keeping that blade buried in his own flesh and away from anyone else.
For a frozen moment, they were locked together, a grotesque parody of an embrace. Jiang could smell the bandit’s sour breath, see the shock and dawning panic in the man’s eyes as he realised his weapon was trapped, his arm immobilised.
That was all the opening Wei Ren needed.
Jiang didn’t see the strike itself, but he felt it when the bandit’s struggles weakened, when the man’s raspy breath faded to a choked gurgle, then, slowly, to nothing. The man’s trapped arm went limp as he slumped, the motion tugging at the blade still embedded in Jiang’s side and sending a fresh jolt of pain shooting through him.
Jiang swayed, his legs suddenly feeling like water. The world tilted, sounds becoming muffled and distant before snapping back into focus. He could feel warm blood, his own, soaking his tunic, running in hot rivulets down his side. He looked down at the dagger hilt protruding obscenely from his ribs, then at the young woman, who was staring at him, her face pale, eyes wide with a dawning, horrified understanding.
Worth it.
The thought was a small, hard kernel of satisfaction against the sharp bloom of pain. His vision flickered again but steadied a moment later. That… probably wasn’t a great sign. Rough hands were on him, turning him, probing the wound. He set his jaw, breathing through his nose as Han swore under his breath.
“Hold still, damn it, kid. This is gonna hurt.”
Jiang braced himself but couldn’t hold back a gasp as someone pressed hard around the blade to make sure nothing moved while Han slid it free as smoothly as he could. Something about the sensation of cold steel being removed from his body made him tremble from more than just pain. It was a profoundly uncomfortable sensation.
He choked back a laugh at the thought, wincing as the motion sent another gush of hot blood spilling from the wound. Imagine that – being stabbed was uncomfortable.
Han’s fingers probed gently around the wound before a thick wad of cloth was pressed against his side, and another person started wrapping bandages tightly around his torso to keep it in place. He hissed reflectively, but surprisingly, Jiang was finding it increasingly easy to ignore his injury – it didn’t hurt any less, unfortunately, but it felt like he was able to function perfectly well regardless.
“Easy there,” Han’s voice rumbled near his ear, surprisingly steady. “Gods, kid, you must have the Heaven’s favour to take a shiv like that. Another inch either way, or if you were a normal lad, you’d probably be bleeding out or screaming for a healer you wouldn’t reach. Missed everything vital by a hair’s breadth, looks like.” Han grunted as he finished the knot. “Still gonna hurt like seven hells, mind.”
Jiang nodded curtly, the movement sending a fresh jolt through his torso, though he was immediately distracted by the realisation that he was unconsciously circulating Qi around the injury, which was doing… something.
Probably nothing bad.
Hopefully, anyway – he didn’t exactly have an instructor any more, and hadn’t been injured badly enough to have tried this before. Still, he was pretty sure Elder Yiaolin had circulated her Qi around his bruises before to relieve pain, so logically, that meant doing this wasn’t going to kill him.
Something nagged at him – something that wasn’t his injury. He pushed himself up on an elbow, his gaze sweeping the churned, blood-stained snow of the makeshift battlefield. Dead bandits, fallen guards, the discarded spear… but something was missing.
His eyes scanned the area where Kaelen had fallen, the spot where he’d slammed into the snow after Jiang’s Qi-enhanced punch. Empty.
“Kaelen…” Jiang managed, his voice raspy but firm. “Where is he?”
Han, busy wiping bloody hands on a rag, followed his gaze and swore loudly. “Son of a whore! That slippery bastard!” He straightened up, eyes scanning the treeline. “Always was good at avoiding the fallout from his actions, that one. Must’ve slipped off when we were dealing with the rest of his curs.”
Jiang’s gut clenched. He’d hit Kaelen hard enough to break ribs and send him flying – but that wasn’t a lethal injury. He’d escaped. Slipped away in the chaos, free to continue wreaking havoc and targeting innocent people.
Just like the Hollow Fangs.
The thought hit him harder than the dagger did. Another leader, another band of killers, getting away. Leaving him behind, leaving him helpless to stop them from hurting someone else, somewhere else.
No. Not again.
Kaelen was just one man, a symptom of a larger sickness, but letting him escape felt like letting Gao Leng himself slip through his fingers once more. The principle was the same. Killers didn’t get to just walk away.
The thought burned through the fog of pain and exhaustion, a cold, hard certainty that settled deep in his bones. Jiang gritted his teeth, shoving aside the hands still trying to fuss over his bandages, and pushed himself upright. Movement was painful, but he had more important things to do than sit around feeling sorry for himself.
“Woah, easy there, kid; where do you think you’re going?” Han asked, confusion obvious in his tone as he jumped to his feet and reached out a hand to stop him.
Jiang ignored him in favour of reaching up to the lead wagon to grab his bow, wincing as the motion tugged at his side.
“Wait, you’re… hang on, you’re not seriously thinking of going after him, are you?” Han continued incredulously. “That’s… I don’t know if you’re doing some cultivator voodoo to stay on your feet, or you’re just stubborn as a mule, but either way, you’re in no shape to go traipsing off into the woods. Hell, what if he has more men?”
“Exactly,” Jiang said grimly. “If he has more men and they attack us again, more people will die. I’m fine.” He swayed as a bout of dizziness came over him. “Well, I’m good enough,” he amended. “Besides, Kaelen’s injured as well. I won’t fight him, I’ll just shoot him.”
Wei Ren, who Jiang realised for the first time was hovering worriedly nearby, stepped forward hesitantly. “He’s right, Jiang. Let the healers take a look at you. We can track him later, once you’re…”
Jiang just looked past them, his gaze already fixed on the treeline where Kaelen had vanished. Later would be too late. He didn’t bother with further argument. There was no time, and words wouldn’t change his mind anyway. With a grunt, he pushed past Wei Ren’s hesitant arm and broke into a lurching run that quickly smoothed out as he adjusted for his injury.
“Jiang! Damn it all, boy!” Han’s frustrated shout followed him, but was quickly swallowed by the trees.
The forest closed in around him, as familiar as the back of his hand. The scent of pine and damp earth, the way the snow muffled sound, the subtle shifts in light filtering through the canopy – it was all as it should be.
He continued to circulate his Qi around his wound, the effect enough to keep him moving smoothly. His reserves were uncomfortably low after the bouts of reinforcement he’d used during the fight, but he had enough to see this through. Even if Kaelen was hale enough to run, Jiang doubted he would be in decent enough shape to put up a fight.
A little concerningly, his Qi was starting to feel… strange. Uncomfortably low, yes, but also agitated, coiling under his skin with a dark, restless energy he hadn’t felt before. It was an ugly sensation, but it also made the rough reinforcement technique he’d been practicing easier, more intuitive.
A problem to look into for later. Right now, there was only the hunt.
The initial trail was messy, churned snow and a few broken branches where Kaelen had plunged into the denser part of the woods. But as Jiang moved deeper, the signs grew fainter. Kaelen, despite his broken ribs, was experienced enough to try and cover his passage, or at least not make it easy.
He slowed his pace, eyes scanning the forest floor, the tree trunks, the low-hanging branches. His breathing evened out, the pain in his side a dull counterpoint to the sharp focus of the chase. This was familiar territory, the kind of tracking he’d done countless times before. A patch of snow here, disturbed more deeply than the surrounding area, as if by a stumbling, uneven gait. There, a tiny fleck of darker moss scraped from a rock, almost invisible against the grey stone, suggesting a hand grabbing for support.
Jiang moved with a quiet economy of motion that was pure habit. Animals were sensitive to sound and movement, and while he wasn’t worried about spooking Kaelen, there was no sense in giving up the advantage of stealth if he didn’t have to.
The man was heading roughly north-west, deeper into the wilder parts of the forest, away from any roads or clearings. Trying to lose himself in the terrain. Jiang allowed a grim, humourless twitch of his lips. A foolish choice against a hunter. The agitated Qi still coiled within him, and he found it sharpened his senses in an odd way, making the subtle disturbances in the forest stand out more starkly, as if outlined in shadow.
Kaelen was moving slower now, the signs of his passage becoming a little more frequent, the disturbances in the snow a fraction deeper, telling of growing exhaustion and the constant pain from his ribs. Jiang quickened his own pace slightly, feeling the nostalgic exhilaration of closing in on his prey.
It wasn’t long before he spotted his target. Kaelen was slumped at the base of a thick, snow-dusted cedar, his back against the trunk, one arm cradling his clearly broken ribs. His breathing was shallow and ragged, each exhale a plume of pained mist in the frigid air. It looked like he was taking a break, clearly having thought he’d made enough distance to be safe.
Jiang nocked an arrow, the movement smooth and practised despite the ache in his own side. He drew the string back, aiming for Kaelen’s exposed chest. An easy shot.
He hesitated. The bowstring creaked faintly under tension.
Kaelen’s eyes snapped open, fixing on Jiang. There was a flash of surprise, then a grim, knowing resignation.
“Ah, hells,” the man sighed, adjusting himself to rest more comfortably at the base of the tree. He didn’t try to rise, didn’t reach for a weapon.
Jiang’s finger tightened on the arrow, but he didn’t release.
“Why?” The word was out before he’d consciously decided to speak, rougher than he intended.
Kaelen’s lips twisted into a pained sneer. “Why what? Why am I not begging for my life?” He laughed, a short, bitter sound. “And what would be the point? Even if you didn’t kill me, something out here would.”
“You could try heading for the nearest village,” Jiang offered, not even really sure why he was still talking. Maybe because this wasn’t like hunting deer – this was a man, injured and defeated. Killing him now wouldn’t be part of a fight. It would be an execution.
This time, Kaelen’s laugh held genuine amusement. “And what, hope they’d welcome me with open arms?” He sneered again. The expression fit him. “The people around here already know me, boy. We aren’t friends – and I doubt I’d get the mercy of a quick death.”
“Why do this? Why do you… hurt people?” Jiang pressed, feeling control of the conversation slipping away from him. He didn’t even know if he wanted an answer.
Kaelen coughed, a dry, rasping sound, and a thin trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth. He wiped it away with the back of his good hand, his eyes glittering with a feverish intensity. “Why? Better question is, why not? The only thing that matters in this world is coin, little cultivator. Always coin. Someone wants something, they pay. Someone gets in the way, they get removed. Those villagers, your precious caravan folk,… they’re just scenery. Background noise. As for hurting them… where’s the harm in having a bit of fun along the way? Makes the job less dull, that’s all.”
The casual, unthinking cruelty of it, the complete dismissal of their lives as anything more than a passing amusement, snuffed out the last of Jiang’s hesitation.
The bowstring thrummed, a stark note in the frozen quiet.
Jiang lowered the bow slowly, his own breath suddenly loud in the ringing silence. For a moment, a wave of something cold and unfamiliar washed through him, a visceral reaction to the finality of what he’d done.
Then he looked at the still form, at the memory of the sneer, the dismissive cruelty. He hadn’t thought twice about killing the wolves; why bother trying to force himself to feel guilty when it came to bandits? Both were predators. Both brought suffering. He shrugged off the unease, a familiar hardness settling in his gut. At the end of the day, this was no different to hunting animals.
His Qi churned under his skin, the dark, restless energy coiling tighter, threads shifting ever so slightly.
It felt… good.
———
Author’s note:
Well, I’m sure that’s perfectly fine.
Comments
Tom C
Uh oh. The old “mc wrestling with killing” trope incoming. Ugh I hate that one. Ah well, hopefully he got some good gains from all this! TFTC!
Aaron Greene
Oof, yea. Fine, it's fine lol
Amelgar
Yeah... totally fine. If it feels good it's definitely a good thing. Right...?
