Chapter 7 - Golden-Eyed Devil (Final)

In the old fort on the Red Tiger Mountain, almost every day had been a feast. Ever since Song Quan took the reins, the bandits could venture as far as they pleased in search for plunder. Rare was one who would dare to get in the way of even the lowliest among the brigands, all because of that man's shadow looming behind them.

Over just a brief period of time their outfit had obtained so much wealth, so many goods and food that they could not even figure out a use for them all, and even despite their daily feasts much was being lost to spoilage. In their search for a way to spend their riches, they had even deigned to finally repair the fort's old walls. And with so many warriors flocking to their banners, they had little choice but to expand their housing.

And there was no shortage of those unfortunates that they could force to do their dirty work.

But for all their merriment, there was an air of constant tension within the fortress. There was one among them who remained taciturn in perpetuity, scarcely drinking, scarcely eating, seldom cheering. The intensity around the Sleeping Asura seemed almost palpable at all times, and in his presence, the brigands could never feel themselves at ease.

Their only saving grace had been that Song Quan would frequently seclude himself, leaving them to their celebrations.

Yet on the rare occasions when he did emerge, he would always ask about their progress. And blessed were the days when their roving bands had been obstructed by sects or experts too strong for them to handle without their chief's help, because then he could vent his ire upon the bold fool instead of them. But when there was no one else to blame, all hell would break loose. Song Quan would set his hands upon those he deemed to be slacking in their duties, tearing them limb from limb, drenching the halls with gore, ruining the precious, plundered carpets with rivulets of blood.

Though the men would never dare to speak it aloud in the presence of any of the chiefs - and seldom even to each other - most didn't believe that the golden woman Song Quan was looking for had ever even existed.

But because they had reaped such great rewards under his wing, and because they feared the reprisal that might come should they attempt to disobey or flee, they all remained, enduring the chief's bouts of madness. Though they may never find their charge, the wider they cast their marauding net, the more opposition they would find, redirecting the Sleeping Asura's bloodlust away from themselves.

And it was one of those days when Song Quan decided to grace their feast with his presence, drinking his wine and eating his meat in grim silence. The brigands were ill at ease. Like cowering mice they partook in their stolen gifts humbly and spoke in hushed tones.

And because of how quiet their festivities were, they were quick to pick up on the racket outside.

"She's here! She's here!"

The cries rang out again and again, and each time they were closer.

All those in attendance sprang to their feet and fetched their weapons. Song Quan rose; his eyes widened.

Brigands began to barge into the hall one after the other to deliver the news. But every new arrival would find himself flinching and shrinking back to the walls and the corners.

The golden haired intruder they had intended to announce already stood inside the hall. A sad little smile bloomed beneath her eyes of gold.

Song Quan slowly drew towards the tall figure in white silk. The massive man seemed so unsteady on his feet that even a stiff breeze could throw him off-balance.

The bandits watched in shock as their chief plummeted to the floor, his bald head pressed down in obedience. One by one they forced down their hesitations and cast their weapons aside, following their leader down like a rolling tide, as did the many captives attending to their endless banquets.

"For you, I have assembled this meager stronghold with all its warriors and riches. Please accept my humble offering!" Song Quan's voice boomed across the hall. "Please, heavenly spirit, issue your command! Deliver us to our destiny!"

The room was plunged into a prolonged silence.

The woman sighed. Her eyes swam with pity.

"You didn't need to burden yourself with all of this." She said. "You already proved yourself to me. The moment we met, I knew that you belonged. And you taught me something so wonderful... I would have loved to have you at my side at the very end."

She drew closer. Her smile faded.

"But there's someone I need even more than you."

Her long arm lunged to Song Quan's hip and drew his sword. She plunged the bare steel into the back of his head.

With the deed done, her hand recoiled from the handle as though her flesh had been burnt. The sword remained upright, wedged into the floor. She gazed down at the Sleeping Asura's crumbled figure as his blood trickled out onto the floor.

Her aloof air was tinged with melancholy.

The development was so abrupt that the kowtowing bandits, peeking from their awkward postures, couldn't believe their eyes. When one of them finally regained his wits, he cried out, forcing the others to their feet.

"What have you done?!"

They took up their weapons and bellowed at her, called out to their dead chief and beat their chests in grief, showered her with threats and oaths of retribution.

Their gruff cacophony brushed past her like a gust of wind. Her gaze remained affixed to the man beneath her feet.

When the brigands worked up their courage, they stepped forward.

The sorrow that plagued her features was gone without a trace.

A cold fury took hold deep in her eyes, like roiling black clouds on the cusp of a thunderstorm. Faced with the intensity of her glare, the bandits stopped dead in their tracks. An unbearable pressure descended upon them, took hold of their hearts and rooted them to the ground. Their shaking hands desperately squeezed their weapons; sweat poured out of every pore. Each and every man realized that to take another step meant certain doom.

Because reflected in those livid golden eyes, they could see their own demise.

A spear clattered to the floor. Then a sword. Those with the least courage among the brigands broke and fled for dear life. The cowardice spread like a wildfire, and the band broke and scattered.

With them gone, the woman calmed. She wistfully glanced down at Song Quan. She pulled out the sword and laid the man out on his back.

And then she was gone.

...

Crossing a vast distance in mere minutes, the Golden Witch returned to the village where she originally planned to meet her disciple. To her surprise, she sensed his presence in the vicinity.

Dashing over, she found him sprawled against the wall of house, clutching a wound on his shoulder, clumsily wrapped in scraps cut out of his own sleeve.

"What happened to you?!" She asked, her voice pitched with panic. Her fingers pressed into the acupuncture points around his injury, halting the flow of blood.

"I... ran into some bandits." Bai Guo strained to speak. He was pale. His body was cold and trembling.

"Someone with a weaker cultivation would have bled to death already!" She exclaimed. "You're so lucky you trained under me!"

"Right..." Bai Guo forced out a sad chuckle. "You're right, master..."

"We need to get this treated." She said.

"There's an old man living in that house over there." Bai Guo suggested. "He might help."

The shocked Wan Bu lent them his house for shelter. He was no doctor, but he had medicines and sutures. Bai Guo's golden-haired master deftly sewed up and bandaged her disciple's wound, and used his pressure points to rid him of pain, and taught him how to hasten his healing through the use of his internal energy. He had been treated from the inside and out.

When the emergency had passed and Bai Guo had little left to do but rest, Wan Bu kowtowed before the strange woman.

"Mistress, please save us from the Red Tiger bandits!" He implored.

"They're already dealt with." Her words were so surprising that the man couldn't keep himself from rising to stare at her. "Their leader is dead."

Bai Guo knew that her words were meant for him too. He remained impassive at the news.

Wan Bu was flabbergasted, in very evident disbelief. But he knew better than to question her, and knelt in a show of gratitude.

He let them remain for as long as they needed.

As he rested, Bai Guo remained quiet and withdrawn. He spent all of his time in bed, asleep or on the verge of it. The Golden Witch, who had never been one to speak at length about anything, had no qualms with it, ascribing her disciple's laconism to the burden of his injuries. She waited patiently for him to heal.

The young man recovered from his grievous wound miraculously quickly. In just a matter of weeks he could stand and move about without much issue. Though he still remained far from fighting shape, his sword arm afflicted with inflexibility and sluggishness, master and disciple decided to take their leave.

Over the course of their stay Wan Bu learned that the Golden Witch spoke truly, and the mountain bandits had indeed been excised from their hold in the mountains. He gave them supplies for the road and kowtowed as they left.

Just as she was pondering where the two of them should head next, Bai Guo suddenly made a suggestion.

"Master..." He hesitantly began, "During my time in Chang'an, I found out about an incredible expert. They call him the Sword Sage."

Her golden eyes lit up with unbridled joy. But it was not the news of a brand new challenge that set her alight; Bai Guo's proposal was also an admission of a desire to continue traveling with her.

What little bitterness she had been holding onto after their fight vanished without a trace.

Finally, things were truly back to normal.

As for the Red Tiger bandits, they dared not return to their old fortress. After learning that their all-powerful leader perished, the sects they had wronged in the past hunted them down without mercy. Those lucky enough to evade retribution had to spend the rest of their lives on the run.

Their captives returned to their homes and spread the word about the strange events that had transpired in the old fort. Abandoned towns and villages were swiftly repopulated. The survivors spoke at length about the woman with mysterious magic powers, of her eyes of gold that had the bandits utterly spellbound, that brought down a monster to his knees. They called her their Golden-Eyed Savior.

For what little remained of Song Quan's old band, the woman would never cease to haunt their dreams. For her, they had a different name.

...