Yashiro the Blind

In her perception, there was a settlement not far ahead, filled with loud, uncouth people, and the pungent aroma of meat and wine, along with a long-smelling stench of blood... If she wasn't mistaken, this should be the stronghold and camp of those mountain bandits.

And the sounds of fighting were coming from that camp.

Could it be... that besides myself, there are other uninvited guests "visiting" today?

She seemed lost in thought, but her steps quickened—evil must be eliminated, and excitement must be joined in; only then can it be considered a complete society.

Regardless of his past or present life, Yashiro is a very wholesome person.

……

The screams and groans of the people gradually subsided.

Within the camp, corpses lay strewn everywhere. Fresh blood, not yet dried, flowed from wounds, seeping into the soil and mixing with the puddles formed by the recent rain, staining the once clear reflection of the moon with a bloody sheen.

The crimson water reflected the blood-red moon like a hook, and suddenly a spear, redder than blood and more vibrant than fire, appeared on the murky surface. The spearhead, stained with blood, pointed diagonally to the ground, while the end near the buttock was held in a slender, long hand.

This is a very beautiful hand, with well-proportioned bones and flesh, and delicate skin. Although it has calluses from years of practice, the fair skin and slender fingers still reveal that this hand belongs to a woman, and most likely a young and beautiful one at that.

The same is true.

As the crimson spear moved forward out of the water, a tall figure was reflected in its image. He held the spear in his right hand, while his left hand was wrapped with a string of wooden prayer beads. He wore a wide monk's robe, the sleeves of which billowed in the wind. His head was wrapped in a white turban, covering most of his face, including his nose, leaving only his eyes visible as he silently gazed at the scene before him, which resembled the hellish landscape.

Looking around, only the two of them remained standing—the woman dressed as a monk, carrying a gun, and a middle-aged man with disheveled hair standing about a dozen steps in front of her.

The latter still had the typical appearance of a bandit, with a fierce face, a big beard, and a katana held high in both hands. The blade was as bright as a mirror, and for a moment, it reflected the bloodshot eyes and a hint of fear in them.

"You...who exactly are you!" As if to forcefully suppress the panic in his heart, the man glanced around and looked at his subordinates and accomplices who were already dead beyond any doubt. He felt both angry and resentful.

They had just raided a settlement that day, committing murder and arson with great gusto, and were happily drinking and celebrating when this woman suddenly shot them in the face—he swore to himself that he had never seen or heard of this woman before, let alone had any grudge against her.

However, since the other party had come to their doorstep, and it was a young and beautiful woman, she was like a piece of prime meat in the eyes of these desperate criminals. Why wouldn't they take advantage of her? They immediately started fighting, each vying to capture the other and have some fun with her.

He, as the leader, initially joked that he wanted his men to learn to "cherish women" and not kill them so they would have nothing to do with it. Who knew that this woman was extremely skilled in martial arts? They surrounded and attacked her, and in the end, all thirty-odd young and strong bandits were stabbed to the ground one by one with their spears.

The woman was completely unharmed, and her breathing was not even significantly disordered.

Seeing the disparity in their numbers, the bandit leader's heart sank. He knew that he would probably not escape death this time either. However, like a cornered beast, he fought back. The woman's aggressive behavior only fueled his ferocity. His eyes were bloodshot as he shouted loudly, drawing his sword and desperately seeking any possible opportunity to counterattack.

Whether the woman in the monk's robe noticed this or not, she continued to slowly pluck the prayer beads with her left hand, her gaze calm, and her voice equally steady as she spoke: "Ten days ago, you plundered a village, not only killing five villagers who dared to resist, but also publicly humiliating their wives and daughters, forcing them to commit suicide... Do you remember this incident?"

"Hmph, so that's why you came..." The bandit leader clicked his tongue. "Do you know any of those people?"

"No."

"Then why are you meddling in this?"

“What may seem like trivial matters to you is, in the eyes of the Buddha, everything is cause and effect.”

With a light flick of her fingertips, the prayer beads spun back to their original position. The woman in the monk's robe raised one hand and bowed slightly to the bandit leader. Her posture seemed humble, but her words were completely contrary to her words: "Since you have already accepted this matter, and the cause and effect are intertwined, then please... submit to the law and be executed."

With a single sentence, "I accept my fate and be executed," the woman clenched her left hand, causing the 108 Buddhist prayer beads to clink together, producing a series of crisp sounds. At the same time, her right hand moved, and the red spear sprang up like a snake, thrusting straight at the bandit leader!

"fart--"

Both were ruthless criminals who committed arson, murder, robbery, and all sorts of evil deeds. Even if they were wary of the other's strength, how could they so easily swallow their anger? The bandit leader glared, cursed loudly, and instead of retreating, he advanced, charging forward towards the spearhead with his full ferocity!

But this seemingly reckless move is actually the best choice. As the saying goes, "an inch longer, an inch stronger." When using swords to fight spears and clubs, one is already at a disadvantage in terms of distance. Only by closing the distance and making it difficult for the opponent to take advantage of the long-handled weapon can one fight against the long with the short and fight for a chance of survival.

However, the boundary between life and death, besides choices, is still more importantly determined by personal ability.

The spear thrust out, the blade flashed and slashed, the two figures suddenly crossed paths, the woman in the monk's robe flicked her prayer beads and wrapped them around her wrist, dodging the fierce blade at the same time, her free left hand also gripped the spear shaft, she actually used the spear as a staff, and swept it horizontally!

"Filthy language deserves a beating."

In a quiet tone, Zhu Qiang slammed his spear hard into the bandit leader's face. A muffled thud and a wail followed. Half of the man's yellow teeth were shattered and loosened by the blow. His mouth was full of blood, his eyes were seeing stars, and he staggered and instinctively tried to back away. But before he could take a few steps back, he suddenly felt a chill in his heart.

One pain.

The spear tip had already pierced his heart.

The woman in the monk's robe gripped the spear with both hands, twisted it violently, pulverizing the heart. Then, with another burst of strength, she lifted the massive leader into the air, spun him around, and sent him hurtling through the air. He crashed into a nearby house, causing the walls to collapse and dust to billow, engulfing the mangled corpse.

"call……"

Zhu Qiang sheathed his spear and slammed it heavily on the ground, seemingly venting some dissatisfaction in his owner's heart.

After the fierce battle, only silence remained at the scene, with only the mountain wind rustling through it, blowing the woman's blood-stained headscarf and robe. She gazed at the corpses scattered on the ground with a strange look, and after a long while, she sighed softly again:

“A guy who can’t even withstand a single shot from me dares to gather in the mountains and forests and wreak havoc on the world… This turbid and evil world is truly tragic.”

She sighed, then flicked her wrist to shake off the blood on the gun. She turned to leave, but as soon as she took a step, she seemed to sense something and turned back to look at the entrance of the camp, in the direction of the mountain.

Benedict.

A soft tapping sound drifted on the wind, and the next moment, bathed in the moonlight, a tattered garment appeared before her eyes.

The figure was thin and small, belonging to a girl who looked no more than thirteen or fourteen years old, or perhaps a little older. Her haggard yet childlike face made it difficult for others to guess her exact age. She held a wooden cane in her left hand, tapping it as she walked forward, and sure enough, her eyes were closed.

A young blind girl.

Even in today's war-torn world, blind travelers like these are not very common. It's not that they don't exist, but most people don't travel far. Even if they are forced to or have no home, they usually join a group to support each other and make a living. This applies to both blind men and women.

In fact, the temple where the woman in the monk's robes lived often hosted such groups, providing them with several days' accommodation and meals in order to build good karma.

After all, there are not many things that blind people can do in this world. For convenience and other reasons, most of them will enter a monastery and make a living by playing instruments such as the pipa and shamisen. They are commonly known as pipa masters. If they are women, they are blind prostitutes, etc. Although the names are different, they are all similar.

The girl before him was all alone, carrying nothing but a cane and a small bundle on her shoulder. She had no musical instruments, so she obviously didn't make a living from them. And since there were no other companions with her, it meant she probably wasn't out with family or friends...

The woman in the monk's robes was lost in thought, one guess after another surfacing in her mind, only to be rejected one by one. Normally, she wouldn't have paid so much attention to a complete stranger she had just met—even if the other person did seem somewhat pitiful and helpless—but that appearance alone was not enough to warrant her special treatment.

What truly caught her attention was the other person's demeanor.

When she came to her senses, the woman in the monk's robe realized that she had actually gripped the spear tightly, and a few beads of sweat appeared on her forehead. When the wind blew on them, they felt cool and refreshing... they were cold sweat.

The moment she first saw the blind girl, images flooded her mind uncontrollably, each one a picture of her wielding a gun to stab that frail figure, only to have it deflected one by one. Different angles, different attacks, but all ending in the same result…

She hadn't felt anything similar when she single-handedly took on dozens of bandits with just a spear. Even when facing her fellow disciples who had trained for many years and possessed high martial arts skills in the temple, the woman in the monk's robe remained calm and composed, countering each move without suffering a defeat.

Only now, facing a complete stranger, did she feel as if she had encountered an unprecedentedly powerful enemy. More cold sweat seeped from her forehead, and before she knew it, a chill ran down her spine.

Du, du.

As the footsteps drew closer, drawn by an invisible force, the blind girl slowly approached, each step steady and light, without making a sound. Like all other blind people, she tilted her head slightly, using her ears rather than her eyes to explore the world.

Although she was tilting her head, the woman in the monk's robe could clearly feel that most of the other person's attention was on her—or rather, she had already noticed the girl before she even appeared in front of her.

And they've set their sights on me.

It was a feeling of dread that welled up from the depths of her heart after being targeted by a ferocious beast like a tiger or wolf. That's why she subconsciously simulated the impending battle in her mind... As for who the girl was, why she was being targeted, and whether she was the leader of this band of bandits, all those questions suddenly became unimportant as the distance between them shortened.

She only had eyes for him.

He gripped the gun tighter and tighter, until his fingers began to turn white and discolored.

Benedict.

Twenty steps to go, fifteen steps...

Du, du.

Ten steps, nine steps, seven steps...

Without a word, without asking, following her most urgent desire, the woman in the monk's robe moved, her spear trembled, and she was about to thrust it out—

It was at this moment that the tattered clothes in front of her swirled in the wind, and the girl pulled out a bladeless sword from the cane with her left hand. She followed up with a spin, and before the spear could be thrust out, she attacked first!

when!

The clash of metal produced a crisp sound. The woman in the monk's robe held her crimson spear horizontally in front of her, blocking the lightning-fast sword strike. In that brief moment of stalemate, she finally saw the girl's features clearly, including her bangs that were ruffled by the wind and her smooth forehead...

"Such a fast Iaijutsu."

She couldn't help but praise him, and the tension that had been building up inside her suddenly eased after she realized a certain fact.

"But... it has enough speed, but not enough power."

Along with these words, the woman in the monk's robe flicked her wrist, and the end of her spear suddenly shot upwards, forcing the blind girl to retreat and create distance. Then, with a flick of her spear like a dragon, she pressed forward!

Just moments ago, this same spear thrust pierced the heart of the bandit leader, and before that, it had stabbed or stabbed the hearts and heads of the other bandits in the camp, felling them one by one. Perhaps because he had just drunk human blood, the red spear now whistled through the air, like the roar of a tiger or the cry of a dragon—

The spear tip was pointed directly at his brow!

Although the move was meant to kill, there was not a trace of killing intent in the eyes of the woman in the monk's robe. Under his gaze, the blind girl suddenly shrank her shoulders, and her whole body turned into a light leaf. Before the spear tip arrived, she was already flipped away by the strong wind and landed six or seven meters away, so that the spear naturally missed its target.

The young woman, mid-air, casually sheathed her sword. As she fell, she rolled to one knee, her left hand gripping the top of her cane once more, poised to strike...

boom!

A loud bang was heard, but the woman in the monk's robe did not take the opportunity to pursue. Instead, she withdrew her red spear and slammed it down beside her. This seemed to be a kind of reminder, and the girl's tense body relaxed. Although she maintained her original posture, the sense of danger on her body suddenly disappeared.

"Are you satisfied?"

She looked at the blind girl who had concealed her sharpness and suddenly asked a question.

"Oh?"

The girl tilted her head, seemingly puzzled.

"Judging from your appearance, you are definitely not on the same side as these bandits, and it is impossible for you to be seeking revenge against me on their behalf."

The woman in the monk's robe glanced at the surrounding corpses and said calmly, "On the other hand, I can sense that your sword has no killing intent, so you probably don't intend to take my life..."

"Since it's neither about taking a life nor seeking revenge, I can only think of one possibility—he's just looking for a target and wants to spar with me."

She paused for a moment, then said, "That's why I asked if you were satisfied. If you want to continue, I can accompany you for a few more rounds, but our strengths are similar, and if we continue fighting, casualties are inevitable. If possible, how about we call it a day?"

The woman in the monk's robe spoke calmly and slowly, but her gaze held a hint of seriousness, and she did not relax her grip on the gun, waiting for the blind girl's response.

The next moment, the girl smiled and said, "Sorry, I just heard the sounds of your fight on the road. It was so exciting that I couldn't resist... If you're angry, you can hit me a few times to calm down. I will definitely not dodge or evade and will hit you until you are satisfied."

She dusted off her clothes, stood up unsteadily, and walked over to the woman in the monk's robe. She closed her eyes—though she always kept them closed—and her expression was calm, with an air of accepting her mistakes and standing firm. Coupled with her still-childish face, she had a strangely endearing charm.

But the woman in the monk's robe shook her head: "I'm not angry."

"Really?" the girl asked, somewhat doubtful.

"nature."

"Why?"

In the exchange, the woman in the monk's robe thought for a moment and replied sincerely, "The exchange just now was also a pleasant experience for me. Since it didn't involve life or death, and I wasn't injured, there's no reason for me to be angry. More importantly..."

"Heaven cherishes life. It is truly remarkable that someone with your character has survived to this day... You deserve to be cherished."

"..."

Chapter Three: The Obedient Child

"In any case, I was the one who offended you first, and I should apologize... Here, I happen to have some wine on hand, so I'll punish myself with three cups."

Late at night.

The moonlight was as clear as water, shimmering and flowing. The originally strong smell of blood had been largely dispersed by the wind, and the bandit corpses in the camp had long since cooled.

The two who had just clashed with swords were now sitting opposite each other. Yashiro smiled and lifted a small jar, pouring the wine into a cup from a height with a splash, while listening to the sound. After a few seconds, he stopped, and the cup was full of cloudy wine, not a drop spilled.

"Good job."

The woman in the monk's robe praised her.

"Please excuse my poor appearance... Please."

Yashiro smiled faintly, pursed his lips, picked up the cup and drank it all in one gulp. Then, repeating the same trick, he drank two more cups in a row, wiped his mouth—while not forgetting to lick the wine off the back of his hand—before asking, "This wine is not bad. How about it, Master, would you like some?"

She had borrowed the wine from a nearby house without asking, but the owner didn't object or stop her, so she figured they probably didn't mind.

He's such a good person.

She thought to herself with a sense of contentment, when she heard the person in front of her reply, "Monks do not drink alcohol; please drink as you wish."

"What a pity. Wine is indeed a good thing, but drinking it alone in front of others always feels a bit lacking." Despite saying this, Yashiro stopped trying to persuade him and poured himself another cup. Reflecting the moon in the wine, he tilted his head back and drank it all in one gulp.

After the fourth cup, her cheeks had already turned somewhat red.

The woman in the monk's robe smiled and said, "It's alright. Even if we can't drink alcohol, we can still enjoy ourselves with water."

After saying that, she took the bamboo tube containing water from her waist, shook it a few times, and handed it to Yashiro.

The latter was slightly taken aback, then directly threw the wine jar in his hand, and the two collided in mid-air, making a soft sound.

"please."

"please."

On nights when mosquitoes swarm, the crisp aroma of wine drifts out on the wind.

……