Chapter 1
The last red glow of an Arizona sunset still clung to the back of Mikes eyes But the air no longer carried the dry sand and dust of Route 66 In its place came a clean knife cold chill And a thin thread of sandalwood incense
Mist rolled across a wide training square Hundreds of disciples stood in neat ranks Blue white robes hung stiff on their bodies Long swords in their hands caught the light like ice
All of their killing focus gathered on one place
At the center stood a single figure that did not belong A broad shouldered blond haired American with blue eyes Mike
A moment ago he had been driving his Peterbilt 389 through a silent night The cab radio had been blasting Elvis and old rock and roll Then the world snapped out from under him And he came down hard on cold stone
Now his back pressed against a slab marked with a Taiji diagram Strange men in ancient clothes surrounded him Their eyes held the calm of people looking at an animal meant for slaughter
Mike tried to breathe His thoughts were thick and slow like wet cement His body moved on instinct anyway
His hand went to his waist A heavy tool waited there The red handled chrome vanadium wrench he carried for breakdowns and trouble on the road
High above him stood an old man on a raised platform His face looked like dead wood His gaze looked like iron that had forgotten warmth
This was Elder Xuanji
He spoke in a harsh ancient tongue Mike could not understand a single word But he understood the contempt in the old mans eyes It was the look of someone deciding that another life had no value
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Elder Xuanji did not care what Mike tried to say Two fingers lifted and came together like a blade A cold force burst forward A flying sword wrapped in sword qi shot straight for the base of Mikes neck
Mikes survival instinct moved faster than thought Years on the highway had trained him to read death before it arrived In the instant the cold light reached his face He ripped the wrench from its leather holster
He gripped it with both hands He threw it up like a brace under a falling beam
Metal screamed against metal The impact rang across the square like a thunderclap Modern alloy met a spirit sword and did not break
Sparks sprayed into the fog Pain tore open the skin of his palms Blood ran down his fingers But his arms did not fold
His strength was not only fat and muscle It was leverage learned from tools and weight and stubborn machines He twisted the wrench head and caught the blade in the spiral mouth He locked it there hard
The entire crowd shuddered Whispers jumped from mouth to mouth Elder Xuanji showed a flash of surprise He had not expected this outsider iron thing to be so tough
Mike gasped for air His heart hammered like a diesel engine pushed past redline He knew he had only bought a breath Not safety
His hands throbbed as if they were on fire He pinned the sword edge down with the bloody wrench Then he raised his free hand and started signing like a desperate man in a storm
He pointed at the Taiji diagram on the stone He held up three fingers Then he drew a line across his own throat
Elder Xuanji understood the message Three days Learn the sword Or die
A thin cruel smile climbed onto the old mans mouth He nodded slowly as if granting a favor Not mercy Only humiliation
Then Elder Xuanji struck A palm landed on Mikes lower abdomen with casual precision Something inside Mike shattered like glass A deep cracking pain swallowed his vision
Blackness rushed in at the edges He felt his meridians slam shut He felt the hopeless weight of a ruined dantian Like an engine seized without warning
Two disciples grabbed him They dragged him across the stone like a sack of trash They did not look at his face They did not care that he was bleeding
They hauled him toward the back mountain They threw him into a spirit pig pen that reeked of filth The stench rose like a wall And the cold air bit into his skin as the gate slammed shut behind him
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