Nesterin ran as sweat drenched his clothes. A dozen men ran along with him, under the shade of the trees. They had been running for two days, following along the large crevice. Each day, dozens of their friends turned back to stall the cultivators. It could not be helped. They must not die here.
"Nesterin," Jharteel caught his breath. "We only have a dozen men left. You must leave alone. We will distract the cultivators to the other direction."
"No! I'm not leaving you all here to die. I'm not returning alone!"
"More than forty of our men died. What's wrong with twelve more?"
"The ones that died are old and they have their child to take their place in this world. You on the other hand are still young. I don't want you to die without having a wife."
They chuckled.
"If I have a child, I might quit this profession."
Nesterin smiled. "Then so be it. We Black Wolves never forced our men to leave their family."
"Then you would be surprised." A voice said.
A figure landed in front of them. His red robe swayed as he brandished his blade. "We Nefarious Sword have always been forcing people to leave their family. Of course, not of our own."
Nesterin gritted his teeth. "There are dozen of us and only of you. I suggest you leave before our bullet gets stuck in your head."
The figure smirked. "Us cultivators have etiquette and tradition. Before a fight, we should introduce ourselves."
"I don't care about your damn tradition!"
"Then I only wish you know my name before die." The figure clasped his hand and tilted his head. "Theoden, a stage 2 swordsman of the Nefarious Sword."
His men gasped. Some of them trembled.
"A stage 2 swordsman?" Nesterin said. "No wonder. No wonder you are so strong."
Theoden frowned. "You don't seem scared."
Nesterin chuckled. "Of course not. At first, I thought we could only get the attention of the lowest cultivator. But your presence means that we norms have the chance to fight for a higher position! Even if we die here, there will be millions of my kind to fight you!"
"You overestimate yourself. You don't know how strong our elder is. Even if there is a million of you sieging our sect, not one will live to tell the tale."
"We'll see about that." Nesterin fired and his men followed.
"Uncultured norms! Before a fight, we should show off our dance first."
Theoden spun as he cut and deflect the bullets on his way. His movement was full of grace and elegance. Something about it remind Nesterin of a flower.
"The Nefarious Sword has a bad history against ranged weapons. This is why our sect master developed a technique to counter it. No matter how many bullets you use, you will never hit me."
"You talk too much!" Nesterin threw a handful of dirt at the swordsman.
Theoden humphed and slapped the dirt with the flat side of the sword. A bullet hit his shoulder.
Nesterin saw a chance. "Disrupt his rhyme. Throw dirt at him!"
His men followed his order while shooting the cultivator. The strategy proved to be effective as more bullets hit their target.
Blood flowed as Theoden gritted his teeth in pain. He approached step by step while maintaining his dance.
"Don't let him get near you, but don't stop shooting. He couldn't charge at us while blocking dozens of bullets!"
Theoden eyed the thick mustached man. He seemed to be the leader of this group of norms. Theoden considered him to be the first target he had to kill.
Cutting a bullet and slapping a handful of dirt, he spun to prevent a bullet from hitting a critical spot. He keep spinning while he blocked and dodged the bullets. These norms would run out of bullets before they could kill him.
That was what he thought until one of the shooters reloaded his gun.
Nesterin caught his expression and smirked. "You think we will run out of ammunition?" Haha! We are prepared for this."
How many bullets did they have? How long would it take for them to run out of bullets? Theoden wasn't sure if he could survive until that time. The two-day chase exhausted him, and he barely could keep his movement.
Two bullets struck his thigh, pulling him out of his distraction. He held the pain with gritted teeth and forced his leg to move even faster. Theoden could not let these norms leave alive. They were a threat to Elaith, which meant that they were a threat to the future sect master.
"The elder ask too much this time." He chuckled. "If I know this would happen, I would have brought more apprentices from other temples."
His body strained, and it felt like his stamina was about to dry. He couldn't let this happen. He must take a risk.
Steeling himself, Theoden slapped a bullet towards a gunner. The man fell with a bloody hole in his head. In return, Theoden received three bullets on his chest. They almost got his heart, but his strong muscles held them back.
Nesterin took the gun from his fallen comrade and used two guns to shoot at the swordsman. "Be careful."
Theoden deflected a bullet and hit Jharteel in the thigh.
"Bastard!" Jharteel held his thigh while shooting.
Nesterin shifted his feet. The situation was not good. It was only a matter of time before the swordsman could kill them.
His accuracy lessened when he used two guns. Maybe he should only use one.
Nesterin threw the pistol at the swordsman, regretting the fact that he forgot to take out its ammunition. The pistol spun towards Theoden. It was slower than a bullet, so he cut it in half without effort.
A round hit one half of the magazine, then something unexpected happen—it exploded.
Boom!
The explosion distracted the swordsman, letting a dozen bullets strike his body. Blood flowed out of his burned wound.
"He's weak! Kill him!"
The wound worsened as bullets found their way to his body. The swordsman still could block a few bullets, but not all of them.
One of them hit his knee, and he fell to the ground.
"He's down!"
"Shoot his hand!"
Bullets stormed his hands, filling them with bullets, blood, and holes. His sword fell to the ground. Something he never expected would happen. The fall of a sword signified a larger meaning than death.
The norm could surpass them.
The thought brought anger to his heart. He gritted his teeth and forced his broken arm to throw his sword. But before he could do so.
A bullet went past his throat and he fell to his death.
Theoden, a stage 2 swordsman of the Nefarious Sword had fallen. He was not killed by fellow cultivators, but by the lesser human they called norms. For years, they had been thought of as immortal, but it all ended today.
"We did it! We killed him."
Nesterin and his men approached the death immortal. He didn't seem so strong now that his body was filled with holes and wounds while lying on the ground. Nesterin didn't know how he should feel about this. At one point he was glad, but he was also afraid.
"We should get out of here. The other cultivator will come, and we should be gone when that happens."
Jharteel nodded. "Let's find ourselves a river. We are thirsty and tired. Freshwater would do wonder to us."
They had been running for two days, if they didn't look for a river, then death would look for them.
"Let's leave," Nesterin said. He approached Jharteel who was struggling to walk.
"How's your wound?"
"Disgustingly painful," Jharteel smiled. "But I can manage."
Nesterin flicked the man's forehead. "Put your hand on my shoulder. You won't be walking anywhere with a bullet in your thigh."
"But I'll go anywhere for a milk sac in my mouth."
"Don't joke around. You're not old enough."
"You said, we should find ourselves a wife."
Nesterin faked a cough. "That's for the future."
The others helped their friends to stand and walk. Only some of them were unlucky enough to get hit by a bullet to the head.
After making sure they didn't leave anything behind, they moved through the forest in search of a river.
The sky darkened as the moon left shadows and darkness to surround the member of the Black Wolves. Animals crept out of tree hollows, eyes glimmering. The wind wailed, crawling on their ears as their body turned cold.
"Is the forest usually this scary?"
Twigs cracked under their feet. And the smell of rotting wood seeped into their nose.
"Not sure," Jharteel said. "But I heard stories."
The other young Black Wolves eyed him.
"This forest is called the Demon Forest," Jharteel told. "And let me tell you. Even the cultivators don't lightly step their foot around here. Why do you think only one guy came to chase us when the sun is about to fall?"
"Why?"
"Because demon hunts at night. They say it has two pairs of red eyes!"
"Two pair of eyes?"
"Four pairs of legs!"
"Eight legs!?"
Jharteel nodded. "And they crawled from tree to tree. Staring down at their unwary prey. And when they ready to strike, their mucus would fell out of their mouth before they—" Jharteel snapped his head to the side, frowning.
The wind blew, rustling through the leaves, but the sound of footsteps came unhindered.
Tick! Tick! Tick!
"What's that sound?"
They looked up and two pairs of glistening red eyes pierced them down. A mucus fell, and the creature pounced them from the tree.
"Ahh!"
"Save me, grandma!"
Bang!
"Seriously," Nesterin said, putting his pistol back. "We just kill a stage two cultivator a few hours ago, and you get scared because of a spider?"
Nesterin approached the hand-sized spider and picked it up. "Well, at least that solves our problem for dinner."
The young Black Wolves looked at each other before turning to Jharteel.
"You better keep this a secret."
Jharteel smiled. "You guys will be famous."
As the Black Wolves explored the forest, Elaith and his group arrived at the scene of crime.
"Elaith, look!" the man pointed at a dead body with his torch.
When he and the rest approached, their eyes bulged. Some of them stepped back in disbelief at what they saw.
Elaith on the other hand froze speechless. His body turned numb, as tears welled up in his eyes.
"It's senior brother Theoden!"
"How did he die?"
"Those holes! It must be the norms!"
"Senior brother Theoden is the strongest stage two cultivator. How could the norms kill him."
Elaith kneel beside the dead man. His tears already fell. He might not felt this much grief if any other died. But Theoden was one of his closest senior brothers. He had already lost one. He didn't expect to lose another when they were already prepared.
He closed Theoden's eyes and caressed his face. The bloody holes in his body and the broken sword on the ground showed that his senior brother fought with all he had. As a junior brother, it was his obligation to take revenge, and not just to the killer.
But to every norm in the world!