Volume Two: Blood on the Bodhi Chapter One: The Small Caravan

Let us return to August 10th, the day when everyone in the disaster area finally tasted rice once again.

The sun blazed mercilessly. Several dozen miles away, on the outskirts of a small town called Hundred Herbs, a little-used path echoed with faint footsteps.

A dazzlingly bald head slowly emerged along the path, its owner carrying a man upon his back. Upon closer inspection, the man being carried was drenched in blood; his right arm had been severed at the shoulder, lending him a terrifying appearance.

The bald monk wore garishly colored robes. Feeling weary, he set the wounded man down by the roadside. The monk was none other than Xiao Yan, and the one-armed man was Li Bai, who, during the chaos of the night spent fighting for grain against Yue Blade King, had lost his hand.

Xiao Yan unfastened a flask from his waist and drank greedily. Only when he had nearly emptied it did he remember the wounded man, and so he dripped the last few drops into Li Bai’s mouth.

Li Bai’s wound had already been treated by Xiao Yan using modern first aid techniques. Though Xiao Yan had been a psychiatrist in his previous life, he was not unfamiliar with basic medical knowledge.

“Damn it! Why play the hero when you’re not strong enough… You’re so heavy, I’m exhausted. If I’d known, I’d have left you to die on the rooftop…”

Xiao Yan shook his head, wiped sweat from his brow, and grumbled irritably. He gazed at the endless road ahead and then at Li Bai, who lay battered and miserable.

He sighed. Strictly speaking, had Li Bai not stolen some grain, the final relief plan would never have gone so smoothly—but the price was steep. Still, Li Bai was a hero of his age.

Xiao Yan could not bear to let good deeds yield only suffering, so that night he carried Li Bai in search of a miracle healer.

Only then did Xiao Yan realize how primitive ancient medicine truly was. A severed hand and excessive blood loss were a death sentence, even from so-called miracle doctors.

He visited several famed healers, but they merely shook their heads and sent him away.

Hundred Herbs Town was his last hope. He had heard of an infamous physician named She Da Biao, notorious for his eccentricities and rumored to enjoy slaughtering people for his own meals, instilling terror in all who heard his name.

Though his skills were reputedly excellent, few dared seek his aid.

“Good luck…” Xiao Yan muttered in a language none could comprehend, then shouldered Li Bai and made his way toward Hundred Herbs Town.

…

About half an hour later, they arrived.

After asking around, Xiao Yan learned that She Da Biao was not at home, having gone to the neighboring town.

With no other choice, Xiao Yan braced himself, hoisted Li Bai once more, and continued his journey.

Fortune smiled upon him, for he encountered a small merchant caravan along the way and joined their ranks.

The outskirts were far from safe; merchants always traveled in groups for mutual protection.

---

The caravan was small, seemingly cobbled together at the last minute.

There were two middle-aged men, a shrewd-looking old man, and a veiled woman.

The woman’s attire was the strangest; her clothes appeared custom-made, and she was adorned with knives of all sizes. The largest was half a meter long, the smallest scarcely larger than two fingers.

Xiao Yan counted: nine knives in total glinted under the sun, making her stand out. He surmised she must be a knife merchant.

He could not help but glance at her repeatedly. She had a fine figure—not too tall, not too short, but her legs were particularly slender… Ahem.

“Hey, young master, unless you wish to be skewered, you’d best stop staring,” the shrewd old man approached, patting Xiao Yan’s shoulder and handing him a flask of water as a reminder.

“Haha, sir, a gentleman admires a fair lady, after all…” Xiao Yan replied with a smile.

“This woman is surely a martial arts master. Don’t do anything reckless,” the old man cautioned quietly, pushing Xiao Yan aside.

“Please, I’m a martial arts master myself!” Xiao Yan replied, patting his chest in defiance.

His voice was loud enough that the veiled woman glanced over, sensing the monk’s inner strength. Her gaze brimmed with disdain.

“Heh, so the young master is skilled, too. That’s good…” The old man’s smile turned sly, his eyes flashing, then he continued, “May I ask your name?”

“I am Xiao Yan,” the monk replied without hesitation.

The old man seemed to ponder for a moment, perhaps wondering if he’d heard the name before, then grinned broadly, “Ah, Xiao Yan the gallant, I’ve long heard of you… I am Yan Wang.”

“I am…” Xiao Yan tried to correct him, but the old man gave him no chance.

“Alright, let’s get moving!” The old man barked, urging the horses onward.

The others followed, tending their mounts as they continued down the road.

…

Along the way, the old man kept up his chatter with Xiao Yan.

“Young master, why are you carrying a corpse?” Yan Wang asked as they walked.

“Oh, he’s no corpse. Still has a heartbeat. Medically speaking, he’s not dead yet,” Xiao Yan nodded, matter-of-factly, though his eyes kept wandering to the knife-laden maiden.

Medicine? The old man was unfamiliar with the term but did not dwell on it. He chuckled, “Ha! You’re so devoted to finding him a doctor—are you brothers?”

“Heh… I’m not so foolish as to have a brother like him… You know, this guy is the greatest martial artist alive…” Xiao Yan laughed, hoisting Li Bai higher, “Isn’t it ridiculous? The world’s top master gets into a fight and loses a hand…”

“Haha… You’re quite the wit, young master…” The old man laughed and glanced at the bloodied man on Xiao Yan’s back, though his expression showed he took it as a jest.

---

The veiled woman, however, turned her head slightly, gave the monk and the wounded man a thoughtful glance, and frowned as if pondering something.

As the scorching sun slowly descended, its rays became less oppressive.

The group halted abruptly, for a pungent stench of blood assaulted their senses.

“This… Someone’s been killed!” The man at the front nearly collapsed in fear, eyes wide.

…

“What happened? Did we run into bandits?” The other man frowned.

Before them lay over a dozen corpses, sprawled haphazardly across the ground, all hacked by blades, blood pooling everywhere.

“Don’t kill me… Please, I beg you…”

Beside the bodies, several merchant-dressed men knelt, pleading for their lives.

“Haha, look, they’re here…”

The dozen or so knife-wielding brutes ignored the merchants’ pleas and turned their attention toward Xiao Yan and his companions.

“Run…”

The leading man shouted, spun around, and bolted.

The knife-wielding brutes remained unfazed, simply watching, as if unconcerned by his escape.

But scarcely had the man taken a few steps when the shrewd old man strode forward to meet him.

“What’s wrong? Run!” the man cried, but the next moment his eyes widened in shock as he looked at the old man and then down.

The old man held a knife, plunged deep into the man’s abdomen, blood streaming down his hand.

“Ah… You…” the man screamed, eyes wide, unable to speak as dark red blood gushed from his mouth.

“You…” The other man beside Xiao Yan pointed at the old man, then at the brutes, “You’re with them?”

“Haha, don’t try to run, everyone. Rest assured, we only seek riches! But if you attempt escape, your life is forfeit…” the old man said coldly.

“Should have listened to the wife and stayed home today…” the surviving man muttered.

PS: Written in haste, posting first—will revise tomorrow.