A few minutes of frenzied combat later, Wu Hao panted and looked at the men, who were circling him warily. They didn't look at him with ridicule anymore. Instead, their eyes were vigilant, their spears raised so as to be ready to run him through if he tried anything. Each of them carried various bruises, bumps, scratches from his knife. He'd been hit a few times as well.

  He was still surrounded, but it did feel pretty good to get treated with some respect.

  "Advance," Boss Lu barked, spear in his hands quavering, and trying to narrow the circle so that Wu Hao couldn't move without either slicing or stabbing himself.

  So Wu Hao sliced himself open. He twisted his arm past several sharp spear-tips, uncaring of the wounds that it left along his arm, slamming his knife into the point of a porter's spear so that it struck against its neighbour, with the loud ring of steel.

  When the porter shouted, Wu Hao slammed into him, barelling him over in the space that he'd created. They rolled, once, in a confused muddle, and then Wu Hao stood again, free.

  He ran, hobbling - he'd taken a long scratch across his knee and shin - but hurrying nonetheless.

  "Stop him!" Boss Lu shouted. "Don't let -"

  The carriage shook again with a muted exclamation, and this time Wu Hao could feel a mass of peach-scented qi move itself rapidly towards the door, which blasted open that same instant. He froze, five steps away from the steps.

  "Oi!" Du Linglong shouted, the point of her sword-tip pointing at Wu Hao. "You!"

  He tensed up again, bringing the knife up higher so that he could hide behind it, and then realized he was being an idiot and lowered it again.

  "Stop bullying Boss Lu!" she cried out. Her thick eyebrows had turned into a very clear frown, almost touching in the middle.

  "Young miss -" the head porter said, eyes casting down. "He's not -"

  "I'm not having it," Du Linglong declared. "You shouldn't pick on people weaker than you, whoever you are!"

  The head porter coughed, his cheeks tinged pink, and his eyes flashed to Wu Hao. They shared a silent understanding - or at least Wu Hao thought they did - before the man let his spear fall, the tip striking the ground.

  Behind him, still standing on the steps to the carriage, Du Linglong nodded as if she'd just solved a complex problem.

  "Get in," she said, turned around, and went back to her seat inside. He caught only a glimpse of Ke Jiazhong, who was sitting inside with a decidedly disapproving look.

  Several of the porters exchanged looks, some of them flushing with embarassment. Others rubbed the bruises that Wu Hao had inflicted on them, were still staring at his knife, or were still looking out over at the carriage with pursed lips and mixed expressions.

  Feeling a silence stretch as they picked up their spears again, looking over to where they'd all put their packs with another group of porters, Wu Hao tried to wipe the expression off his face and walked up the steps.

  Wu Hao had seen the inside of the carriage before, both with its contents more-or-less in the expected places, utterly ransacked and even completely destroyed when someone had slammed into it.

  Nonetheless, he took another look around. The window could slide back and forth, opening to let the breeze in or closing to keep the cold out. The carriage was bisected into two halves lengthwise, with one bench covered in pillows, a few scrolls, a fruit knife of all things, and other clutter; Ke Jiazhong's bench had been kept clear.

  And then there was Ke Jiazhong. His sword lay across his lap and his hands were folded on top of that. His blond hair hung just above his eyes, though it wasn't shining now. Wu Hao couldn't smell the sunlight, either, though he did faintly smell peaches.

  Ke Jiazhong's green eyes looked at Wu Hao, and then his expression tightened, like he'd seen something vile. Wu Hao wouldn't call himself a genius - not in combat and not outside of it either - but even he realized that that was probably him.

  It made sense. His rags were torn and bloody and he probably stank of sweat, not just from all the running but just the general grime he was caked with. A bath seemed a distant memory, and at best they'd been made to run through a river a month ago, from the way time usually worked.

  Wu Hao told himself to ignore those looks. He'd faced worse, besides.

  Ke Jianzhong rapped the wood of the carriage twice, a sharp tak-tak, and then it lurched into motion again. Wu Hao hadn't sat down; he didn't think he'd bother.

  There was enough space in the carriage that two adults could sit without ever needing to touch. Nonetheless, as he'd entered, Ke Jiazhong drew closer to Du Linglong until their knees touched just slightly. There was something about that gesture, something almost possessive. It was as Ke Jiazhong was offering her his protection from Wu Hao, which was ludicrous.

  She'd killed him once before, might have killed him twice if not for the prisoner saving her the trouble. Chances were that she might wind up killing him again, though he was hoping to avoid that.

  In any case, Du Linglong didn't quite flinch back, and Ke Jiazhong's eyes flicked back to her before turning back to Wu Hao with a smug, razor-sharp smirk, so thin it looked like a trick of the light. It wasn't, though. Ke Jiazhong radiated smug victory over something so minor as a touch of the knees that Wu Hao wondered if the other man was all there.

  "You couldn't have taken even slightly better care of yourself?" he asked, arching an eyebrow artfully. "Not much of a messenger, are you?"

  Wu Hao stared. So did Du Linglong, who snapped out of it first and slapped Ke Jiazhong on the arm with one of her hands. Not hard - certainly not a punishment in the ways that Wu Hao had been punished by the Uncles. Or Father. Barely even looked like it'd hurt at all.

  With those kinds of admonishments from pretty girls, even Wu Hao might find himself growing arrogant.

  "Stop it," she exclaimed, emnity. "What kind of a way is that to greet someone?"

  "Look at him," Ke Jiazhong said. "He's practically feral."

  "Don't say that," Du Linglong chided him. "There's no reason to insult him."

  "No?" Ke Jiazhong muttered. "He's an insult to me. He's stinking up the place already..."

  "You're always so bitter," she told him. "Just because -"

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  They began to squablle some more, but Wu Hao sunk into thought as they did. Something stung inside of his chest, and it took him a few minutes to identify what it could be. That gnawing discomfort in his chest, was that jealousy, he wondered.

  It could have been. Wu Hao shoved it aside, deep into the recesses of his mind where he stored all of his pain, the humiliation, the yearning, and the rest of his human feelings, and cleared his throat.

  "There's an ambush," he said, and when they didn't much react he spoke again, louder this time. "There's an ambush waiting!"

  This at least got him some more attention, and Du Linglong and Ke Jiazhong turned to him. She, at least, seemed to take this seriously; Ke Jiazhong sat there in his finery like a smug, well-groomed housecat.

  "Who?" Du Linglong said, her tone serious. "Who's ambushing us?"

  "Bai - Bai Jing," Wu Hao said, stumbling as he had to think back to Uncle Bai's actual name. "Of the Red Dawn Sect."

  He'd hoped that merely the name alone would instill some measure of how serious the situation was, but all that happened was that Du Linglong looked at Ke Jiazhong, who shook his head slightly, and turned back to Wu Hao.

  "Who?" she asked.

  "An Uncle of the Red Dawn Sect," Wu Hao said, hoping that made things clearer. Maybe they hadn't heard of the man's personal name? If they only knew him as Uncle Bai, the way he'd done, that would make some sense.

  "I'm sorry," she said, slightly awkwardly. "I don't know what the Red Dawn Sect is. Senior Brother, have you heard of it?"

  "No," Ke Jiazhong said definitely. "It's not orthodox, I know every orthodox sect from Jilin to Hainan and Xining. If it's unorthodox, it's so minor I haven't heard of it before."

  "Maybe it's new," Du Linglong proposed, and looked to Wu Hao. "Is it something like that? A powerful new sect formed of different smaller factions?"

  "I don't - I don't know," Wu Hao said, feeling dumber with their every word. He didn't even know where Jilin, Hainan or Xining were. Were they even places at all? Cities, counties, sects?

  "How strong is he?" Ke Jiazhong asked, green eyes flickering once to Wu Hao and then back away, like looking at Wu Hao physically made him uncomfortable. "He's got to be at least the first-grade, no?"

  "He's a second-grade martial artist," Wu Hao said, glad that they'd found steadier conversational ground. "And there's a few third-grade martial artists, but -"

  He stopped talking when he'd heard Du Linglong's relieved laugh. Even Ke Jiazhong seemed a lot more relaxed.

  "Oh," she said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean - I'm sure he's very strong and all, thank you for giving us this information, but, er -"

  "The amount of second-grade martial artists that I couldn't beat can be counted on one hand," Ke Jiazhong said. "And one of them is sitting next to me right now."

  Was a second-rate martial artist not enough, then? He had given life after life against one second-rate martial artist. If a second-rate wasn't worth much consideration, what was he?

  "Stop it," Du Linglong said, a faint blush on her cheeks as she lightly slapped Ke Jiazhong's arm again.

  This time Wu Hao was pretty sure that the worm gnawing at his insides was jealousy. He shoved it down.

  "Oh," Du Linglong said, as if a thought had just occurred to her and turning back to Wu Hao. "I'm sorry, I - I didn't mean to be flippant or anything, it's just..."

  Ke Jiazhong smirked but said nothing, and Du Linglong's face flushed.

  "Do you want a peach?" she asked abruptly, which even Wu Hao recognized as a panicked attempt to try to divert the topic. "We've got a few left, i think..."

  "He's not going to be alone," he said instead, warily. "They're going to try and free the prisoner."

  "Obviously," Ke Jiazhong said acerbically. "We're more than prepared for that. Why do you think there's two of us?"

  Du Linglong nodded. "Besides," she said, "there's also -"

  Ke Jiazhong cleared his throat and Du Linglong's mouth clicked shut. "Sorry."

  "What?" Wu Hao asked. "What's there also?"

  "That," Ke Jiazhong said with a pointed look, "is not a question we'll answer, hmm?"

  "Why not?" Wu Hao asked.

  "You're a stray," Ke Jiazhong said. "You come out of nowhere. We don't know your name, who trained you, why you know we'll be 'ambushed'..."

  Du Linglong nodded, a bit hesitantly.

  "We can't tell you everything," she said. "We've also got to keep our secrets, you know?"

  That made sense. Unfortunate, because Wu Hao had been hoping she might have told him.

  "Can you tell me who the prisoner is, at least?" he asked.

  Du Linglong looked at Ke Jiazhong, who rolled his eyes but spoke.

  "Ke Shuang," he said. "Bastard son of the Diancang Sect master. A demonic martial artist. And... my half-brother."

  Oh. That was probably important, wasn't it? Ke Jiazhong's fists had clenched when he'd said it, but to Wu Hao the words brother had lost all meaning. Even he, technically, was a Brother now.

  Still, half-brother? He compared the man who'd killed him with the one sitting in front of him. The most obvious difference was their hair colours, which were completely different - golden blonde for Ke Jiazhong, ash black for Ke Shuang.

  "How did he come to be imprisoned?" Wu Hao asked.

  Unfortunately, he'd waited too long. Ke Jiazhong's fist had been taken up by Du Linglong, whose thumb rubbed over the back of his hand, and Ke Jiazhong had relaxed again, but also he looked like he'd regretted saying even the little he had.

  "None of your business," Ke Jiazhong said. "All you need to know is - "

  But Wu Hao wasn't listening anymore, and his head whipped around. Outside, he heard the porters murmuring amongst themselves, the driver give the command to slow down, and footsteps hurrying over to the carriage.

  "They're here," he said.

  To Wu Hao, it felt like a mass of qi had shuddered into existence, emanating from a core thickly laden with weight and meaning. He smelled a pungent scent of wine on the wind, though he couldn't feel the breeze blowing through the trees inside the carriage.

  An urgent rapping at the door.

  "Young master," the head porter spoke urgently. "The kid spoke the truth. There's -"

  But Wu Hao knew already. His time had run out.

  Out there in the road, Uncle was waiting.