Guardian 镇魂 Fic - Future Forged

Chapter 4

They have the advantage of higher ground. He Anying and Shen Wei work together to leverage boulders to crash down on the the enemy below, and Zhao Yunlan lets out an impressed whistle as they tumble downward.

The rebel Dixingians are a band of twenty, but the boulders put a quarter out of commission.

Zhao Yunlan scrambles among the rocks and tries to catch a glimpse of the Hallows, his ticket home. He can't see them, not with the mess that the boulders are making, blocking his line of sight.

The downside of a surprise attack is when it isn't a surprise any more. The rebels are alert now and surge through the dust, swords drawn and snarling.

He Anying has strapped her bow to her back, and she draws it now. Without hesitation, she aims the arrows down to pick off the rebels single-handedly.

Another quarter gone.

The remaining ten are the tough ones. Clad in leather armor, either experienced warriors or with awakened Dixingian powers, dodging or withstanding the boulders and arrows to a supernatural degree.

Zhao Yunlan draws his dao from its scabbard. Well, he isn't exactly normal himself, not any longer.

Zhao Yunlan springs into the fray. Weeks of training in the void of white have prepared him for this. He's still not sure if he likes it - the rawness and proximity of swordsmanship - but he parries and knocks out one, two, three soldiers with the blunt end of his sword, igniting a dark spark of power into each blow.

Still no Hallows.

When the dust clears, he sees that He Anying has taken out three soldiers herself, her short twin blades a blur as she finishes with a fourth.

"Nice, Sister Anying!" he calls out to her.

"Not bad," she says, eyeing the unconscious rebels at his feet. "Maybe you're not such a lost cause after all."

Shen Wei is locked in battle with two of them - one with a staff that reeks dark energy, and the other with two butterfly swords like He Anying. They're clearly the two most powerful of the group. Shen Wei, with his mask on, has his mouth twisted in a determined line, a soundless growl. His blade transforms to whatever it needs to be: dao, jian, qiang, guandao...

The last remaining soldier stands in front of a wooden chest with a bigass sword clenched in his fists.

The Hallows and their guard.

"Step aside, brother," Zhao Yunlan says, twirling his dao.

The soldier grunts. He's huge and lumbering, a figure who towers over Zhao Yunlan. He moves slowly, but his muscles ripple as he hauls his giant sword.

Zhao Yunlan dodges it. He slashes his dao against the Dixingian's stomach, lacing it with a pulse of black, but it harmlessly glances off him as if he's made of steel.

That's not fair at all.

He frowns and decides, if the Dixingian isn't going to play fair, he isn't either. He reaches for his revolver.

At that exact moment, the Dixingian swings again.

Shit.

A loud crack of impact, a sensation of blinding pain - and Zhao Yunlan goes flying and collides against the rocky ground. His head hurts like hell, and his ears are ringing.

But he's got his revolver in hand now. He closes his eyes - listening, concentrating - and pulls the trigger. A single shot, and he's rewarded with the sounds of a grunt and crash.

When he opens his eyes, his vision is blurry. He Anying is preoccupied fighting the Dixingian with two blades - the four blades meet each other, striking, clashing.