"Not enough..? Finish me?" A wet, gurgling sound that was more blood than mirth escaped the captain’s lips.

  He laughed, a ragged, broken sound that was nonetheless filled with a terrifying, final defiance.

  The pain was a universe of shattered glass within him, yet he stood tall.

  "You think you have… what it takes to kill me?! You push yourself too much, little girl!"

  He stomped his foot, the impact a dull thud that sent a tremor through the blood-soaked earth.

  A wild, manic grin stretched his bruised and bleeding face.

  "Even if I have to thread through the pain, it does not matter anymore…"

  His body, a canvas of ruin, was now fueled by nothing more than pure, suicidal adrenaline.

  He launched himself from the ground, a meteor of bone and hate, his fist shooting out, aimed directly at Ming Mei’s face.

  The air itself seemed to ripple around his knuckles, a testament to the raw, physical power of a Body Tempering expert pushed beyond all limits.

  "No one will save you now, little girl!"

  Mei didn’t flinch.

  She planted her feet, the ground cracking slightly beneath her as she met his charge head-on, her own small hand a stark, pale contrast to his meaty fist.

  "You'll be the one who needs saving!" Mi Shui shrieked from the side, snatching another set of daggers from a dead bandit and launching herself towards the captain’s exposed flank.

  "Don't contest with me girl!"

  The captain's entire focus, his entire world, narrowed to the single, incandescent point of his clash with Ming Mei.

  Fist met palm.

  BOOM!

  The world seemed to fracture.

  The impact was not a clash of Qi, but of pure, kinetic violence.

  A shockwave erupted outwards, a physical wall of force that tore up the ground in a ten-foot radius, sending dirt and pebbles flying like shrapnel.

  "Hngh!" A strangled cry was ripped from Mei’s throat.

  A sickening crack echoed in the night air, not of the ground, but of bone.

  She was thrown backwards, tumbling through the air to land in a heap several feet away. Her left arm hung at an unnatural angle, the sleeve of her robe already darkening with blood from her split palm.

  The arm was broken, useless.

  "I-It hurts.. ugh.. I can't.. hn.."

  She bit her lip, a fresh trickle of blood joining the grime on her chin as she fought to stay conscious.

  But her sacrifice had not been in vain.

  As the captain’s momentum was arrested for that single, critical moment, Mi Shui arrived.

  "Hahh, Hahh..! I can't be useless! I'll help out too! Hahhh!" She was an executioner completing her work, sinking her blade into the captain’s side again and again.

  Thrust after thrust, she pierced multiple holes in his torso, each one a fresh torrent of blood.

  "G-GHAAAAAAAAAA! You bitch!"

  he roared, spinning with the last of his strength.

  His open palm, though weakened, connected with Mi Shui’s head in a brutal slap.

  Her world became a dizzying, spiraling vortex of pain.

  Her eyes went white as she was sent cartwheeling through the air, landing with a heavy thud that snapped her awake with a jolt of fresh agony.

  The right side of her face was a swollen, bloody ruin, and her mouth was filled with the coppery taste of her own blood.

  Across the clearing, Re Jui saw it all.

  He saw Mei’s broken form, Mi Shui’s dazed struggle.

  A fire, born from the ashes of his despair, roared to life within him.

  He forced himself to his feet, his body screaming in protest, his head a universe of throbbing pain.

  He lifted his blade, the familiar weight now feeling like a mountain in his trembling hands.

  "N-NRAHH!" he bellowed, pointing the sword at the staggering, bleeding captain. "I'll.. Kill.. you!"

  He charged, a staggering, desperate lurch that was more willpower than physical strength.

  He spun the blade, channeling the last of his Qi, the last of his very soul, into one final, piercing thrust.

  SHPLUK!

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  The blade sank deep into the captain's chest, grating against ribs before finding his heart.

  "H-HRGHH!" A final, defiant sound was ripped from the captain's throat.

  His leg shot out, a last, spiteful twitch of a dying beast, and slammed into Re Jui's gut.

  "HRAHHHHHHHH!"

  Re Jui coughed, a spray of blood erupting from his mouth as the wind was driven from his lungs.

  He was sent stumbling back, doubling over, his hard-won victory soured by a final, crippling blow.

  The captain stood for a moment longer, a grotesque scarecrow impaled by a sword.

  The captain’s body was a monument of ruin, a testament to the brutal, desperate battle he had just waged.

  He stood, his chest pierced by the longsword of Re Jui, a grotesque and final trophy.

  With a low groan that was more beast than man, he gripped the blade's hilt, his mangled, bloody hands trembling with the effort.

  He pulled. The sound was a wet, tearing rip of flesh and sinew, and a fresh torrent of blood erupted from the wound, steaming in the cool night air.

  He sighed, a ragged, shuddering exhalation.

  "Hah.. hah.. not even one.. dead..?"

  he asked the silent, watching moon, his voice thick with a disbelief that was slowly curdling into self-loathing.

  He had been pathetic.

  A single, bloody tear traced a path through the grime on his cheek.

  "H-Hao Yu.. Boss.. I failed.. h-hahaha.."

  He placed a palm over his head, the dagger Mi Shui had thrown still sunk through it, a grim and constant reminder of his failure.

  "If it were you, boss.. you would have punished me for this.. even if I'd won.."

  His gaze swept over the ruined camp, over the sprawled, lifeless bodies of his men.

  They were all dead, every last one, because he had grown complacent, lenient.

  "If.. I was more.. alert.. this wouldn't have happened.."

  He stared up at the night sky, the pale moonlight shining down on his regretful, broken form.

  He breathed out, a cloud of cold smoke escaping his lips.

  "If only.. I wasn't ganged up on like this.." His blonde beard, matted with blood, flew in the wind as his eyes slowly began to lose their light.

  "If-"

  "But there are no if's."

  The voice, quiet but unyielding, cut through his lament.

  Ming Mei stood a few paces away, her left arm clutched tight to her chest, her face a mask of pain and grim resolve.

  "This is the only reality we have, and in this one, you lost. But there is one thing… you could still do."

  She smiled, a sad, weary expression that held no malice.

  She took a breath, ignoring the fire that screamed up her broken limb, and prepared her final technique with her one good arm.

  "You could be better. Be good, no… become great, in the next life." She shot forward, her movement a blur of green and white.

  "Blooming… Lilac…"

  Her hand formed a powerful palm, every ounce of her remaining Qi, her guilt, and her desperate will pouring into this final strike.

  This had to be the end. "PALM!" Her hand shot out, leaving a deep, bruised, palm-shaped imprint on his already ravaged chest.

  He coughed, a thick spray of blood erupting from his lips, his eyes glazing over. She grit her teeth.

  He was still standing. It would take one more.

  She trembled, her good hand shaking as she drew it back, tears of frustration and sorrow finally breaking free, tracing paths down her cheeks.

  The captain’s eyes, heavy as stones, slowly lifted.

  He saw her, this trembling, weeping girl who had shattered his body but could not bring herself to shatter his soul.

  "Why.. do you cry.. girl?" he spat, his body heaving.

  A flicker of something, not quite respect, but a weary understanding, passed through his dying gaze.

  "D-Do it.." His eyelids began to close, the world fading into a final, welcome darkness.

  "Don't waste tears.. on m-"

  "Mei!"

  A shout, sharp and decisive, cut through the night.

  A shadow was suddenly beside the captain, a blur of motion.

  A blade, held in Mi Shui’s steady hand, slit the captain's throat with a final, wet tear.

  He fell, not with a crash, but with the slow, heavy finality of a great tree, landing in the dust with a soft thud.

  It was over.

  Mi Shui stumbled, her face a swollen, bloody ruin, but a triumphant smile stretched her lips.

  "Don't hesitate.. to kill!" she managed to yell, the words a harsh lesson and a declaration of victory all in one.

  "G-Great.. Job!" She finally let her own exhaustion claim her, collapsing to her knees, her breath coming in ragged, painful gasps.

  The mission was finally… over.

  Mi Shui’s body, which had been running on pure, spiteful adrenaline, finally gave out.

  Her legs buckled and she collapsed onto the dusty, blood-soaked ground, the daggers clattering from her numb fingers.

  The adrenaline was a dam breaking, and a tidal wave of pain rushed in to fill the void.

  The right side of her face was a swollen, throbbing ruin, and every breath was a sharp, grating agony.

  But as she looked at the captain’s still form, a ragged, bloody smile stretched her lips.

  "Y-yes… we did… it…"

  The victory was a hollow, echoing thing.

  Nearby, Ran Ji lay like a broken marionette, his chest a universe of shattered bone, his breathing a shallow, painful rasp.

  Re Jui, a statue carved from exhaustion, struggled to push himself into a sitting position, the world still a swimming, nauseating blur.

  And Ming Mei clutched her shattered left arm to her chest, her face pale and streaked with tears, the pain a constant, screaming fire.

  They had won, but the cost had been immense.

  They would need a week, perhaps more, just to mend their broken bodies enough to begin the long journey home.

  But the mission, the long, bloody road to this moment, was finally over.

  Flame flickered from the humble huts of the village, the warm glow of torches pushing back against the encroaching night.

  The air was thick with the scent of burning pine and the low, mournful sound of weeping.

  The villagers were preparing a grand funeral for their fallen.

  Bi Kan, his own face streaked with grime and sweat, patted down the last of the graves, his muscles aching from the grim labor.

  "Phew," he breathed, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of a bloody hand.

  "They fought well…"

  Nearby, a young girl wept, her small hands caressing the simple wooden marker of her father's grave, her tears watering the freshly turned earth.

  Bi Kan’s teeth ground together, a harsh, grating sound of self-loathing.

  He should have been stronger.

  He should have been faster.

  He had relied on these mortals, inspired them to fight, and in doing so, he had led them to their deaths.

  "Tch… all this training I did, was for nothing…"

  he muttered, his voice a low, bitter rasp.

  "I should… have cultivated as well…" His mind was a tempest of regret.

  He had focused solely on tempering his body, on raw physical power, but had neglected the deeper arts of Qi manipulation.

  If he had possessed a single true Qi ability, a defensive barrier, a binding technique, anything, he could have saved them.

  He could only blame himself.

  He was weak.

  "But, you did the best you could."

  A gnarled, wrinkled hand settled gently on his shoulder.

  An elderly villager stood beside him, his eyes, though clouded with grief, holding a deep, unwavering wisdom.

  "Don't be so hard on yourself, boy," the elder said, his voice a soft, comforting rumble.

  "You've done well for us. You've killed so many of them… that's no easy feat!" He raised his voice, his words carrying across the somber gathering.

  The villagers who were crying wiped their tears, looking up from their mourning to nod in solemn agreement.

  "That is right," a woman called out, her voice thick with emotion but firm with conviction.

  "Our loved ones may have died, but it was not your doing. Do not blame yourself, young hero."

  The brave girl with the pink pigtails, who had struck the first blow, was helping to clear the debris from a collapsed rain barrel.

  She paused, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, her gaze settling on Bi Kan.

  A swell of profound gratitude filled her chest, a warm and powerful feeling that momentarily chased away the chill of her fear.

  A small, genuine smile formed on her face.

  She unconsciously rubbed her neck, the phantom pressure of the dead man's grip a ghostly reminder of how close she had come to losing everything.

  A single, grateful tear escaped, tracing a path through the grime on her cheek.

  "I… I will thank that disciple properly," she whispered to herself, the wind catching her pink pigtails and making them dance.

  "He's… the reason why we're all alive today…"