Chapter 6 – A Fated Encounter
The dense forest stretched endlessly before Wang Lin, its towering trees casting long shadows under the fading light of dusk. The path he treaded was ancient and forgotten, overgrown with wild roots and thick mist. After days of arduous travel, he was growing weary, but the whispers of destiny seemed to call him forward.
His Sword God System had been strangely quiet since his last battle. He could still feel the power coursing through his veins, but there was something else—an unknown presence lingering in the air. His sharp instincts, honed by countless near-death experiences, told him he was no longer alone.
As he stepped forward, a soft rustling came from ahead. His body tensed, hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword. A moment later, a figure emerged from the mist—a young woman, dressed in tattered yet elegant robes. Her hair, dark as midnight, cascaded over her shoulders, and her eyes, clear as the autumn sky, carried a quiet sadness.
She was injured.
A thin cut ran along her delicate arm, and her breathing was labored. Yet, despite her wounds, she moved with a natural grace, her presence blending into the wilderness like she belonged to it.
Wang Lin's gaze sharpened. She was no ordinary wanderer.
The woman faltered, catching sight of him. For a brief moment, wariness flashed across her face, but it quickly faded. Perhaps she had no strength left to be cautious.
"…You're not with them, are you?" Her voice was soft, like the gentle rustling of leaves in the wind.
Wang Lin frowned. "Them?"
Before she could respond, the distant sound of footsteps broke through the silence. Heavy. Ruthless. A group of men emerged from the darkness, their armor scratched and bloodstained. Mercenaries, judging by their appearance. Their leader, a burly man with a scarred face, smirked at the sight of the wounded woman.
"There you are, girl," he sneered. "You gave us quite the chase."
The woman's fingers tightened around the hilt of a broken sword. Despite her injuries, she did not retreat.
Wang Lin exhaled. So this was the situation.
The mercenaries barely spared him a glance, assuming he was just another traveler caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. That was their mistake.
The woman looked at Wang Lin again, something unspoken passing between them. A silent plea, not for help, but for understanding.
Wang Lin stepped forward, placing himself between her and the mercenaries.
"You're in my way," the scarred man growled.
Wang Lin's grip tightened on his sword. "No, you're in mine."
The forest grew still. The night was about to be painted with blood.
The night was thick with tension. The mercenaries, seven in total, stood in a semi-circle around Wang Lin and the injured woman. Their leader, the scar-faced brute, cracked his knuckles, his smirk filled with disdain.
"You should walk away, boy," he sneered. "This isn't your fight."
Wang Lin didn't answer. His fingers tightened around his sword hilt, his heart steady but his mind sharp. He could tell from their auras—these men weren't weak. Each of them had experience in battle, their weapons worn but well-maintained. They weren't just random thugs.
The woman behind him remained silent, her breathing shallow. She had barely enough strength to stand, let alone fight. Wang Lin didn't know who she was or why these men were chasing her, but it didn't matter. He had already made his decision.
"You're wasting time," Wang Lin said, raising his sword. "Come."
The scarred man's smirk twisted into an ugly grin. "Kill him."
With a roar, the first mercenary lunged forward, his blade flashing under the moonlight. Wang Lin sidestepped, barely avoiding the strike, but before he could counter, another enemy attacked from behind. He twisted his body, bringing up his sword just in time to block.
Clang!
The force sent a sharp tremor through his arm. He gritted his teeth. These men were strong.
Before he could recover, a third mercenary attacked. Wang Lin barely ducked under the sweeping strike, rolling to the side. His mind raced—he was outnumbered, outmatched. The only reason he was still standing was his speed and reflexes, but that wouldn't last forever.
The Sword God System inside him remained silent. No sudden power-ups. No divine techniques.
It was just him and his sword.
The leader chuckled as he watched. "Not so tough now, are you?"
Wang Lin exhaled. His breath was calm, but his body was burning. He had to end this fast.
The next mercenary charged in, thrusting a spear toward his chest. Wang Lin shifted his weight, sidestepping the attack. His sword flickered—a precise counter!—but the enemy twisted his spear at the last second, deflecting the strike.
They're good.
Wang Lin's feet slid against the dirt as he barely avoided another attack. He was fast, but not fast enough. A sharp pain bloomed in his shoulder—a shallow cut from one of the mercenaries' blades.
He stumbled back, panting. His movements were slowing.
The female lead, still leaning against a tree, clenched her fist. Her eyes held no fear, only quiet determination. But she did not interfere—whether because of her injuries or some other reason, Wang Lin couldn't tell.
The scarred man laughed. "Tired already? I thought you'd last longer."
Wang Lin said nothing. His grip on his sword tightened.
The mercenaries attacked again, pressing their advantage. This time, Wang Lin couldn't dodge completely. A fist crashed against his ribs, sending him reeling. Another blade slashed at his thigh. Pain erupted through his body.
He fell to one knee.
The leader stepped forward, his heavy boots crushing the dirt. "You should've walked away, boy. Now you'll die for nothing."
Wang Lin wiped the blood from his lips. His vision was blurring. His body ached. But something inside him refused to give up.
He exhaled. Focus.
The mercenaries saw him as weak, but they had made a mistake—they had underestimated him.
Wang Lin closed his eyes for a split second, feeling the weight of his sword. It wasn't just a weapon. It was an extension of himself.
The Sword God System isn't answering me. That means I have to rely on my own strength. Then so be it.
As the next mercenary charged, Wang Lin moved.
But this time, he wasn't just dodging.
He *stepped into* the attack, closing the distance in an instant. His sword flickered—a clean, decisive arc. The mercenary's eyes widened as cold steel sliced through his throat.
One down.
Wang Lin didn't stop. He twisted his body, using the fallen enemy's momentum to propel himself forward. His sword danced, fast and sharp. Blood sprayed as he slashed another mercenary across the chest.
The remaining men hesitated for the first time.
The leader's grin vanished. "Don't just stand there! Kill him!"
They rushed forward together.
Wang Lin's mind was in perfect sync with his blade. He ducked, weaved, countered. A spear thrust toward him—he deflected it and drove his sword into the attacker's stomach. Another enemy swung at him—he parried, pivoted, and sliced through the man's knee.
But it wasn't perfect.
A hammer crashed against his side. The impact sent him flying, rolling across the dirt. Blood dripped from his lips as he struggled to his feet. His body was reaching its limit.
Only three mercenaries remained, including the leader.
Wang Lin exhaled slowly.
The leader clicked his tongue. "Annoying brat. Fine, I'll handle you myself."
He drew a massive curved blade, its surface gleaming with faint energy. This man was stronger than the others.
Wang Lin's heart pounded. His body screamed for rest. But there was no retreat.
The leader charged.
Wang Lin lifted his sword, meeting the strike head-on. The impact sent shockwaves through the air. His arms trembled under the pressure. He was barely holding on.
The leader grinned. "You're finished."
He twisted his blade, forcing Wang Lin back. Then, with terrifying speed, he swung again.
Too fast!
Wang Lin tried to block, but the force was overwhelming. The next moment, pain exploded through his chest as the blade sliced across his torso. His vision blurred. His knees buckled.
He collapsed.
The leader stood over him, laughing. "Not bad, kid. But not good enough." He raised his sword for the final blow.
Wang Lin's fingers twitched. His sword lay just inches away, but his body refused to move. Was this how it ended?
Suddenly—
A cold gust of wind swept through the forest.
The female lead, still injured, had stepped forward. Her expression remained calm, but something in her gaze made even the mercenaries pause.
"You've done enough," she murmured.
The scarred man frowned. "What? You think you can—"
Boom!
A sudden pressure erupted from her body. It was faint, restrained, but undeniable. Even in her weakened state, she carried a power that made the air tremble.
The leader's face darkened. "Tch. This isn't over."
He gestured to his remaining men. "We're leaving."
The mercenaries vanished into the forest.
Silence returned.
Wang Lin lay on the ground, barely conscious. The woman knelt beside him, her fingers hovering over his wounds. Her voice, soft and distant, was the last thing he heard before darkness took him.
"You're strong… but reckless."
Then, everything faded.
To be continued…