Chapter Fourteen: Eliminate Evil Completely, Root Out All Traces

The atmosphere abruptly quieted, for neither side had anticipated that Fang Zheng would suddenly resort to killing. Only when the bandit chief toppled from his horse did chaos erupt among the outlaws.

"Boss!" wailed a scrawny bandit with a scraggly goatee, his face twisted in grief as though he'd lost his very parents. His cry was raw, guttural, piercing the air with anguish.

"Shoot! Loose every arrow! Kill them all, leave not one alive!" the goateed man shouted in desperation. After a brief moment of confusion, the bandits hastily slung their bows from their backs, nocking arrows.

"Everyone, charge with me! Zhao He, you and Liu Meng stay with the wagons—don’t let the villains near the young lady!" Zhao Zhong was the first to recover, his voice ringing out as he organized the defense. He couldn't fathom why Fang Zheng dared to strike first in the face of such overwhelming odds, but he admired the man’s decisiveness. Against such ruthless brigands, there was no other way but to fight desperately. Given the present turn, fortune now favored them. Yet, timely as Zhao Zhong’s orders were, the guards were slow to act. Most had never undergone true training, and many were on their first journey with the caravan. By the time they responded, the bandits had already drawn their bows and aimed at the company.

"Loose!" came the command from the goateed bandit, and in an instant, a storm of arrows darkened the sky, whistling toward the caravan.

Despair washed over Zhao Zhong. The golden opportunity slipped through his fingers; their fate was still sealed, death all but certain.

Fang Zheng had his own considerations. "Strike the head to capture the bandits; act first to seize the advantage!" That was his creed. Such vicious scoundrels deserved to die a thousand deaths. Better to silence them with a single stroke than endure their threats. And as for consequences—would anything truly change were he to stay his hand?

The rain of arrows sped toward them. Fang Zheng had already stepped forward, standing before the caravan. In his right hand, the sword "Early Blossom" hung low; his left hand rose before his chest, palm open in a half-grip, as though radiating light.

Ever since acquiring the spellbook "Sleeve of Heaven and Earth," Fang Zheng had practiced diligently for over a year, testing its powers while hunting. He was now confident in its effects. The spell was meant to be used with a magical artifact called the "Great Celestial Sleeve," but presently Fang Zheng could only wield a half-finished version. He did not know the full extent of the spell's power, but as it stood, it resembled the "Dragon-Subduing Grasp" of Earth’s martial tales—a hand that could seize anything, living or dead, at a distance.

He still remembered the delight he’d felt the first time he used the spell to snatch a wild pheasant from twenty yards away, and later, how he’d pulled a bear cub down from a cliff into a mountain stream. Spiritual energy flowed through the acupoints of his palm, forming a miniature array at Laogong, generating a tremendous suction. Anything caught in this force would be drawn to his hand, and he guessed the "Great Celestial Sleeve" might serve as a storage space. Still, the suction’s mechanism puzzled him; by Earth’s physics, every force should have an equal reaction, yet he felt no recoil—lifting even the heaviest object felt as effortless as picking up a feather. As for aiming, it relied on his "spiritual intent," which he had studied for some time. Whatever he could see and focus on, he could seize, though larger objects consumed more spiritual energy.

At the moment when all seemed lost, those present witnessed a miracle beyond their wildest imaginings. Every arrow, as though homing, veered toward the faintly luminous left hand of Fang Zheng, not a single shaft landing anywhere else.

Of course, he could not hold so many arrows at once. His left hand traced a half-arc before his chest, a gesture reminiscent of a move in Tai Chi. Every arrow, without exception, fell at his feet, piling up like firewood.

"An immortal—a cultivator?" someone on either side whispered in shock, their voice clear in the hush. Then, pandemonium erupted.

"Run! A deity!" "A cultivator, flee for your lives!" "Witchcraft! He knows sorcery—run!" The bandits dropped their weapons and scrambled over each other in a frantic retreat, desperate to grow wings and escape. The goateed man tumbled and crawled away, even losing a shoe in his haste.

"Commander Zhao, slaughter them all. Such scoundrels are not worth sparing," Fang Zheng called to Zhao Zhong.

"Yes! All of you, after me—don’t let a single one escape!" Though stunned and confused, Zhao Zhong was a man of experience; he grasped Fang Zheng’s intent. The bandits were routed—now was the time to strike. The guards, inspired by Fang Zheng's commanding presence—left hand behind his back, sword in hand, an air of otherworldly grace about him—surged forward in pursuit, the clamor of men and horses rising once more.

The elder surnamed Zhang remained frozen, stunned by the sudden reversal from certain death to salvation. He cared little for his own life, but he could not bear for the young lady to fall into the bandits’ hands.

"Heavens have mercy! Master Fang—no, Immortal Fang! Your grace today is beyond what my life could repay! Should you ever call upon me, I’d walk through fire and water without hesitation!" Tears streaming, the old man fell to his knees behind Fang Zheng.

"Please, elder, there’s no need for this. I acted for my own safety, and my younger sister is here as well—I’d never let her come to harm. It was merely circumstance. Please rise." Fang Zheng turned at the sound behind him, quickly helping the old man up. He’d lost count of how many times he had done so these past days, but he truly respected the old man’s loyalty.

"It may have been a small effort to you, sir, but to us and these children, it is a debt of new life. How could I not wish to repay you..." The elder was visibly moved, but Fang Zheng quickly interrupted, "Elder, please—any more and I’ll be at a loss. Are you trying to drive me away?" This brought the old man to a stop, and he relented. "Very well. Once we reach the manor, I must properly host you. I hope you won’t refuse." "I will certainly accept your hospitality!" With that, the elder took his leave to attend to the caravan.

Just then, the curtain of the young miss’s carriage was lifted—a little girl sprang out and threw herself into Fang Zheng’s arms, followed by Bi’er, who helped the mysterious young lady, whom Fang Zheng had not yet met, step down.

Fang Zheng was at a loss for words, but a passage came to mind: "Her figure, graceful as a startled swan, slender as a wandering dragon, radiant as autumn chrysanthemums, lush as spring pines. Like light clouds veiling the moon, like snow swirling in the wind. From afar, she gleamed like the sun rising through the dawn mist; up close, she blazed like a lotus emerging from clear waves. Each aspect in perfect harmony—shoulders sculpted, waist slender, neck elegant, skin luminous and unadorned. Her hair rose in a cloud, brows arched, lips rosy, teeth white, eyes bright and lively, dimples playing at her cheeks. Her bearing was serene, her manner gentle and graceful, her words charming. Robed in white, adorned with pearls and jade, her eyes clear as water, brows sharp as willow leaves, lips tinged with blue, nose high and straight—it was as if all beauty in the world had been gathered in her alone."

"Big brother, snap out of it! Your eyes are about to fall out," the little girl teased, waving her small white hand before his face, still nestled in his embrace.

"You impish girl, what nonsense," Fang Zheng chuckled, letting her go and pinching her nose affectionately.

"I am Zhao Muwan," the young lady said, bowing gracefully. "Thank you, sir, for saving my life. If I was discourteous before, I beg your pardon."

"No need for such formality, Miss. I am the one who should apologize, having imposed on you all this while without offering my thanks," Fang Zheng replied, returning the bow with gentle courtesy.

"Oh, enough of that! You're giving me goosebumps," Bi’er interrupted, her voice lighthearted. "I thought we were doomed, but it turns out you're not just a scholar who can cook—you know magic too! Since you saved me today, I’ve decided I won’t be mad at you anymore."

Fang Zheng laughed, "Bi’er is right. Let’s not say more. Best to await Commander Zhao’s return and continue our journey."

"Thank you for your generosity, Bi’er. If I was rude yesterday, I apologize," Fang Zheng added, but before the young lady could reply, Bi’er spoke up, "Do you know why I was upset?" She looked at him curiously.

"If I’m not mistaken, it was about the carriage for Yaya, wasn’t it? You both kindly offered, but I rather overstepped. If I were you, I’d be annoyed too." Bi’er looked surprised, as if she couldn’t understand how Fang Zheng had guessed her thinking.

"Bi’er, enough chatter," Zhao Muwan gently chided.

"Bi’er speaks her mind; I hope you won’t take offense," Zhao Muwan added softly. "We invited you to join us, and now you’ve saved us all. What’s a carriage in the end? I was childish, please don’t take it to heart."

"Don’t worry, Sister Muwan, big brother won’t be angry. Besides, you’ve both been so kind to me—I told big brother everything," the little girl piped up, running over to cling affectionately to Zhao Muwan’s arm.

"See? This little one’s already been won over by you two. Even if I wanted to be angry, I couldn’t," Fang Zheng joked, and everyone burst into laughter. The tension dissipated, and the mood was light once more.