There was one thing about life that had remained unchanged for thousands of years. Those favoured by fate, like the Demon Kings who were destined to live an "interesting" life in many senses, or special humans such as the royal knight Huang Shaotian whose natural ability to attract attention, positive or not, ensured that he could never feel bored for more than a few hours, were small in number. Nonetheless, all of the chosen ones would be prized mortals of the goddess for the rest of their lives, regardless of their wish.
Wang Jiexi, the pitiful witch whose only desire was to get back to his hermit-like lifestyle as soon as possible, was one such case.
Somebody tapped his shoulder.
"Sir, can I speak with you?"
Turning his head around, Wang Jiexi replied nonchalantly. "Yes?"
The person who had initiated the conversation was quite youthful, with his head lowered and a slightly reddened face.
"Sir, my... boss would like buy you a drink. That is, if it doesn't inconvenience you, sir," stammered the boy. The admiration in his eyes which was directed to Wang Jiexi was real, if a bit sudden and unexpected. The witch conducted a brief check over his own body. Am I wearing something strange?
He thought about the invitation for a while, then nodded. The nervous boy led him to the table where about twenty knights were sitting, their high-quality armours dull from days of travelling yet they themselves still seemed to be in great spirits. Wang Jiexi paid particular attention to the poise and elegant young master sitting at the centre as well as the blond knight sitting next to him, whose eyes were as sharp and alert as the cutting edge of a dagger. The boss should be that young master who looked like a fourteen-year-old kid, despite his tender age.
Sure enough, that noble-like boy offered him a handshake as he sat down, a flawlessly polite smile on his face.
"Sir, may I know your name?" said the young master.
Wang Jiexi replied truthfully. "I'm called Wang Jiexi."
As a side information, albeit he had been extremely famous on the continent a decade or two ago, the well-known persona was "The Magician" and not the witch named Wang Jiexi. That was the only reason why he felt comfortable giving out his real name, along with his instincts telling him that the identity of the boy before him was not simple either.
There was no sign of recognition in any of the knights' expressions. "Nice to meet you, good sir. My name is Hanwen."
There was a mischievous twinkle in Hanwen's eyes. Wang Jiexi noticed that he had intentionally left out his surname, which confirmed his initial suspicion that the boy should be an aristocrat in disguise, and a probably a high-end one at that.
"If possible sir, can you tell me your profession?" continued the young noble in half a breath. "I've never seen you in this side of the town before, and you don't have the local accent. I have a feeling you are quite powerful, though."
At this point, in their minds, the knights were cheering for their prince. What "never seen you here before", that remark would be more correct directed towards His Highness instead – their prince was bullshitting, and it was even so fluently!
Wang Jiexi ignored the sneaky implication about him being a foreigner. If they really suspected him of being a spy, they should be suspecting half of the people walking in this place.
"If that is the case, may I ask for the reason behind your inquiry?"
Caution was never excessive.
However, sitting next to the prince, the gold-haired knight, whose name was Huang Shaotian and who had been strictly forbidden to disrupt the talk with his nonsense, mentally sighed in exhaustion. These two's overly courteous way of speaking was seriously rubbing him off. For the sake of his employment though, he refrained from saying that thought aloud with great difficulties.
Lu Hanwen continued smiling. "I'm merely wondering whether you would be interested in a job opportunity, sir. You seem rather capable."
Brows furrowed, Wang Jiexi responded in puzzlement. "Why would you think so?"
"Just an intuitive feeling," said the prince in a pleasant tone. "Grabbing potential opportunities is a necessary skill in life."
First surprise, then a wave of nostalgia washed through the witch's body, leaving an overwhelming sense of sorrow behind that quickly scattered and disappeared. This young master's attitude was extremely alike what his old friend, the warlock Yu Wenzhou, had stressed during the war against the Demon King years ago, when they had still been comrades-in-arms. In fact, that opportunity-dependent style had been prominent in the battling of those under the warlock's command, the dazzling beauty of which was most likely lost to Wang Jiexi's yearning forever. He was truly glad of the long-lasting impact imprinted upon the younger generations by his friend.
In the end, he was not given the chance to resume the conversation because there suddenly reverberated a painful howl and the thumping sound of a hard object knocking against the ground, followed by shouting and cursing that quickly escalated into a full-blown brawl between two groups of people.
Wait, what?
Feeling as if there were some inaccuracies with that description, the witch blinked and slightly squinted his eyes. It was more like… a group of people trying, and failing miserably, to tackle a single man.
The lone man was utilizing astoundingly little force to fend off against the ten or so bunch of thugs charging at him. Clearly a swordman, he was heavily depending on the broken and knocked-down tables as temporary shields, and whichever object that he could get his hands on was mercilessly thrown towards his attackers. His accuracy level was astonishing – the curving trajectories of these random things made for a beautiful scene for those with sharp eyesight, and they always managed to hit an enraged assaulter even if it only fuelled their wrath further.
While his left hand was occupied with slowing down the people ganging up on him, his dominant right hand was waving the sword around. Yes, "waving", because Wang Jiexi could not think of a correct word to describe his actions – the man did not stab and slash like what an ordinary person would do, but followed his own unpredictable rhythm. At first glance, it seemed as if the man was moving his sword wildly without any purpose. However, when some of the attackers lunging at him suddenly dodged or stepped back, the keener ones in the crowd realized that every one of the man's movements effectively posed a threat to those trying to get a blow on him. For instance, when one of the men tried to jab at the swordman's thigh, the outwardly strange position of the sword, in that assaulter's viewpoint, would potentially swing at his neck and behead him cleanly should he continue his attack on the man. The ones who did back down somewhat were the more intelligent among them; those who had blindly ignored the signs suffered from various cuts and bleeding wounds.
On the other hand, as precise as his movements were, they mostly aimed to discourage and deflect the thugs' blows and not to injure them, which meant that very little blood was spilled in both sides. For one man to be able to defend himself against an entire group and not be beaten down in the first few seconds was already an admirable feat; nevertheless, with the current rate that things were going on, the deadlock would continue infinitely until either of their stamina ran out. Since there were ten of these thugs and only one of the swordmen, it was easy to deduce which side would grow tired first.
Apparently though, the attackers grew even angrier once they embarrassedly saw that after some time ten of them were still unable to defeat a single person. Their fists and kicks became cruder and heavier, but such a change merely allowed the swordsman to dodge fewer of these rough attacks. One of the thugs, fuming in rage, lost control and decided to risk everything, directing a flurry of punches towards the man without caring for defence. For a while, it successfully forced the man to concentrate on this sole thug and thus having a more difficult time fending off the others. Their eyes shone brighter than the sun witnessing the rapidly increasing number of bruises on his body, and they readied themselves for a final surge…
…until a "Splash!" sound rang through the air and the crazed attacker stumbled backwards, shrieking in pain. By some means, the swordman had sneakily taken out a tiny sack of powder from his sachet in a blur, smashing it onto the oblivious thug's face. The resultant greenish yellow powder invading his eyes was the cause of his agonizing screech.
All of the onlookers were stunned, some of them even on the verge of clapping. What an intelligent (shameless) manoeuvre!
Wang Jiexi, on the other hand, was hit by an intense feeling of déjà vu. Wasn't this "powder-throwing" style of fighting what a witch would do? Shouldn't this lone warrior be a swordsman?
Using the opportunity of the remaining thugs being momentarily dazed by his unexpected move, the so-called swordsman took out a few more bags and threw them at his assaulters.
…Or not.
This time, everybody cheered for real. They whistled and debated among each other what brilliant actions the man would take next.
Under the bystanders' expectant gazes, the man heroically escaped from the thugs' encirclement and sprinted towards the group of knights, Wang Jiexi among them. He then proceeded… to hide behind this artificial barrier of imposing meat shields.
"Righteous knights of Blue Rain, these men abruptly pounced on me without any reason and wanted to bully me with their numbers. Could honourable sirs please lend me a helping hand?" said the man even as he hurled a bunch of powder behind, this one a bright apple green.
…Bullying? Who is bullying whom?
Everyone stared at the figure crouching behind the knights incredulously as they snapped out of their trance from this highly unanticipated situation. Asking for assistance from the kingdom's knights, who were renowned across the continent for their upright and virtuous conducts as the protectors of the weak, was quite logical indeed, but… who was the weak and who was strong here?
Lu Hanwen's eyes twitched. It was true that knights should be valiant and full of righteousness, but looking at this shady figure crouching behind the row of walking armours, who would occasionally fling an object or two and depended on his elite knights to take the brunt of attacks, evoked an impulse in the prince to gang up on this man together with the thugs.
Whatever he did, it must have been exceptionally unbearable for this little group of thugs to refuse to give up on their attack even in the face of proper warriors. That, or the attackers were just plain stupid.
The displeased prince turned towards one of his personal knights – not the unreliable Huang Shaotian, of course – and gave the order to "clean this mess up." The older, grey-templed knight first tried to negotiate with the attackers, citing reasons such as immorality and various other knightly-sounding words, but the ongoing onslaught remained unaffected and some of the knights had already been forced to defend themselves already. Facing a bunch of hooligans, this "negotiation" was only meant for show. The knights then started beating them up in the resounding cheers and encouragements of bystanders.
When the last attacker was defeated, an incident occurred. Somebody pointed at a certain gold-haired knight, his finger trembling.
"Isn't that… Sir Huang Shaotian?"
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. "Huang Shaotian? The Sword Saint? Where is he?"
A stranger yelled. "It's him! I saw him last year during the national parade. OMG it's really Huang Shaotian!"
The atmosphere became even more heated when another spoke in confusion. "Wasn't it announced that the Sword Saint has exclusively become the first prince's bodyguard? How can he go on a random mission and left His Highness behind?"
The dots quickly connected, and everyone's gazes converged on the hooded figure among the knights, the sole person not wearing armour. Except for Wang Jiexi, but nobody cared about him.
"Your Highness…?" Asked the elderly knight in concern.
A sparkling smile plastered on his face, Lu Hanwen took off his hood in resignation, triggering yet another explosion of exclamations.
"It's His Highness! It's really His Highness!"
"He's so cute!" Squealed one of the women. "Ehem, I mean he's so handsome!" Calling a prince 'cute' was not exactly suitable.
"Your Highness, could you help me name my newborn?"
"Your Highness, please marry me!"
"…" Such a brazen confession! Youngsters nowadays, so courageous…
Lu Hanwen abruptly turned to the forgotten Wang Jiexi at the side and spoke without hesitation, "Sir, I trust that we'll meet again! I sincerely hope you would think about my offer. Even if you don't agree, as friends, you can still visit me at my villa at No. XX, XX street, XX city," before being buried in the overexcited wave of citizens along with the other knights.
Since when did I become friends with the first prince?
A sense of uneasiness sprouted in the witch's mind. This kind of respectful attitude from a prince… He probably knew who Wang Jiexi was, but how?
In any case, the witch decided to retire for the night and asked the inn keeper, who had been watching the spectacle behind his counter, for the key to his room. When the cold metal object landed on his palm, he suddenly remembered something.
"Do you know where the man who caused the ruckus is? The person who had originally been the target of the assault?"
The inn keeper scratched his head. "Him? Oh, once the knights joined in, he left the inn. That's really weird, now that I think about it."
Wang Jiexi nodded in thanks and went upstairs, his mind a mess from tonight's events. He was sure that the swordsman had not gone all out; far from that, in fact. And his style of random fighting that incorporated so many witch movements in it… What if he had had a row of assassins' throwing knives, or the ability to cast spells like a warlock?
For the first time in many years, Wang Jiexi felt a flicker of trepidation.