The villagers stared at him in fear, at the blood-drenched, wounded man standing among corpses. Women, hands over their mouths, kept scanning the street littered with hacked-up bandit bodies. Even the dogs had backed away to their masters, whining softly, sensing the danger that radiated from the stranger. Seeing that he wasn’t moving, the villagers finally dared to call out to him.

  “Master? Are you alive?”

  “…I don’t know,? Zhang Ming rasped.

  “Huh? Should we help you, Master?”

  “No… Leave… Run from the village… A large band is coming… they’ll spare no one.”

  Staggering on trembling legs, Zhang Ming stepped over the corpses of the bandits and walked toward the wide-open gates of the village. The villagers watched in silence as his broad back, with an arrow still jutting from it, slowly receded. Just before the forest, he stumbled and fell to his knees, gasping for breath. After several heavy breaths, he braced himself on his sword, forced his battered body upright, and vanished among the trees.

  “What now? What are we supposed to do?” The villagers finally came to their senses, panic spreading as the air filled with voices, the creak of carts, and the lowing of oxen.

  Meanwhile, Zhang Ming staggered through the forest like a drunkard. His vision blurred, each step an effort, but sheer willpower kept him from collapsing. The echoes of battle still roared in his mind, the screams of dying bandits rang in his ears and he wanted nothing more than to escape them, to run as far as he could. Like a man in a fevered dream, Zhang Ming pushed forward, tripping, clutching at branches. He imagined the bloody hands of the men he’d killed clutching at his clothes, hanging off him, trying to drag him down into hell.

  “This way… come to me,” whispered a soft, alluring female voice.

  Zhang Min’s weary eyes swept the forest, but he saw no one. He was about to move on when the stranger called again. Never in his life had he heard such a beautiful, gentle voice. It was as if tender hands were caressing his very soul. Bewitched, Zhang Ming obeyed the call.

  “Who are you?” he asked, but there was no answer.

  “Here… just a little further.”

  Soon, a rocky clearing appeared through the trees. A broad stream ran across it, its surface glinting silver in the sunlight, the water murmuring softly. Stumbling to the edge, Zhang Ming’s foot slipped on the wet stones and he fell. A pained groan escaped him, his battle-numbed body now felt every wound and bruise at once. Barely clinging to consciousness, he dragged himself forward on his belly until his face reached the cool water.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  After several deep gulps, he crawled back slightly to avoid drowning, but the effort drained his last bit of strength. The world before him wavered, darkened. The stream’s gentle murmur grew distant. His head fell onto the cold stones, and he lost consciousness. Water trickled down his face, tracing lines through the dried blood.

  From the bushes peeked a small, furry muzzle that rolled its eyes in a distinctly human way. A black weasel crept toward him, circling the man several times to inspect him from all sides. Carefully, it poked him with a paw, as if checking whether he was pretending. Snorting in annoyance, it vanished into the bushes, only to return moments later with a bundle of herbs in its mouth. Setting them beside the body, the weasel climbed onto Zhang Ming’s back and, with its teeth, pulled the arrow from his spine.

  “Foolish human,” it said softly, in a gentle female voice. “I’ll save you and repay my debt. You removed the talisman from my cage, so I won’t let you die. Fair enough, right?” Tilting her head as if weighing the fairness of her words, the weasel sighed. “It’s bad for my cultivation to owe a human. Tsk, tsk.”

  With a claw sharp as a blade, she cut through his clothing, then awkwardly chewed the stems of the herbs and spat the green pulp onto his wound. Pressing it down with a paw, she tilted her head again, pleased with the result, and treated the wounds on his shoulder and leg in the same way. When the bleeding stopped, she pushed a few strange-looking fruits into Zhang Ming’s mouth.

  “Good. He’ll live now,” she nodded. “Oh! But if I leave him here, beasts will eat him? Hmm… guess I’ll have to wait till he wakes up. Ugh… he’s such trouble… Paying debts is so tiring…”

  The sun drifted across the sky, the shadows of the trees moving like clock hands. For two full days, the grumbling weasel tended to Zhang Min, bringing him water, feeding him berry juice. Knowing almost nothing about caring for humans, she simply left him lying beside the stream on the bare rocks. Despite her power and spiritual energy, her patient fell ill, feverish and delirious.

  “Human! Wake up! Mmm… I’m tired of this…” she whined, sounding like a spoiled noble lady. “That’s it! I’ll find other humans!”

  By the morning of the third day, branches cracked nearby, leaves rustled, and ferns snapped under heavy steps. The wind carried the scent of men and iron. One by one, several figures emerged from the thicket, cautiously scanning the rocky clearing.

  “You said you heard a woman’s voice from here!”

  “I did. I’m sure of it…”

  “I heard it too! Such a gentle voice, like a noble lady’s!” a third chimed in.

  “Ha! Listen to you. Where would a ragged fool like you ever meet a noble lady?”

  “Hey! There’s someone behind that rock!” one of them shouted.

  “A woman?”

  “Why would there be one out here? Looks more like one of the mountain bandits… doesn’t it?” The three men stepped closer to the body lying by the stream and turned it onto its back. “There are plenty of them around. Question is, which stronghold did he come from?”

  “He’s still breathing!” The oldest of them crouched down and pressed a hand to Zhang Ming’s face. “Warm... no, hot!”

  “Alive? That’s strange. How long’s he been lying here?” the second clicked his tongue.

  “There are tracks here. Broken branches. He came from… that way. Should we check it out?”

  “To hell with that! Look at the state he’s in. You want the same?” the older man snapped. “We should take him to Gong Su. Let him decide what to do.”