The Princess’ Shadow Guard – Chapter 38

Of Course I’m Going to Kill You (Berserk)

Murong Yan sat by the fire, her face twisted with disgust as she watched the mounted bandits. She forced herself to endure the strange, throbbing ache in her head.

The man at the front swung down from his horse. Beneath a gaudy cloak, his clothes were filthy, and a thick, unkempt beard covered his cheeks like a patch of black brambles.

            

When he spotted Murong Yan sitting alone, his eyes lit up as if he’d stumbled upon a treasure. He bellowed in a coarse voice, “Looks like I’m in luck! A few days back, the heavens sent me a good merchant caravan, and today they’ve gone and given me a wife!”

The other men dismounted one by one, each more vulgar and brutish than the last.

Murong Yan pressed a hand to her forehead, about to speak, when a tickle caught in her throat. She turned her head and covered her mouth, but she couldn’t stop herself from coughing.

            

The woman’s stifled, choked sounds fell on the rough men’s ears like a seductive moan, only exciting them further.

A man with a braid shouted in mockery, “Hahaha, Chief! A little beauty like this—let me have a turn later, yeah?”

“Shan Meng! A delicate thing like her, how could I hand her over to you? If you break her, where am I supposed to find another?”

            

The man they called Chief stared at the woman before him, who seemed to have lost all her strength. He grinned, revealing rotten, yellowed teeth, and said in a lecherous tone, “Little beauty, if you go along with me, you’ll be the bandit chief’s lady. I won’t treat you badly.”

Murong Yan felt her stomach churn. She was sick to the point of retching. Suppressing the nausea, she said in a weak voice, “You’d best leave now. Before this palace’s people return.”

The men burst into laughter, their waist-sabers clattering.

            

The braided man, Shan Meng, snickered to his companions, “The beauty calls herself ‘this palace’! Does she really think she’s a princess?”

Looking at her plain clothes and the shabby carriage behind her, he couldn’t believe it for a second.

The man who seemed to be the Chief had apparently run out of patience. He moved forward, reaching for the woman’s clothes.

            

Murong Yan’s face was flushed with an unnatural red, but there was no fear in her eyes. Only a sharp, commanding voice.

“Stand back.”

She lifted her lowered eyelids. Though she sat on a wooden stool, it was as if she were on a high platform, looking down on them all.

            

Her back was ramrod straight, her tone fierce. The man froze for a moment, as if he might actually be swayed by her imposing presence. He hesitated.

“Hey! Chief, you’re not going soft, are you?” the bandits behind him jeered when they saw his hesitation. “If you can’t handle it, let us take over!”

His pride stung, the man hesitated no longer. He stepped forward and shoved the frail woman to the ground. He flipped up her skirt—and saw the cold, unnatural gleam of a prosthetic limb at her right leg.

            

“Oh-ho! She’s missing a leg?” The man leered, his gaze lascivious. “Not even a whole person, and you’re still putting on airs?”

He saw a flash of red fabric beneath the woman’s collar. He licked his lips obscenely and bent his head down.

But the next second, his face stiffened. He stood up, clutching at his throat, and rasped, “Air… air… I can’t breathe!”

            

White foam began to seep from his mouth.

The bandits crowded around, watching their dying chief in terror. They rushed forward, slashing at his clothes with their blades, trying to help him breathe. It was useless. They could only watch as, after a few more gasps, their leader went still.

Murong Yan sat up with effort. Her hair, which had fallen to the ground, was disheveled. She toyed with a small wooden box in her hand.

            

Though her body trembled slightly, no matter how the men before her wailed and cried out, she only watched it all with cold indifference.

Commandery Princess Chongwen Murong Yan had never been willing prey, even with a broken leg.

The man called Shan Meng was the first to turn. His face twisted, his eyes bloodshot, he roared at the woman sitting on the ground, “You witch! What did you do to the Chief?!”

            

Before she could answer, Shan Meng reached out to grab her slender neck. “You—”

His words were cut off.

『Thump!』

            

A heavy sound.

A gust of wind, colder than the snow, swept past. Shan Meng watched as beads of blood seeped from his skin.

The next second, before his very eyes, his wrist separated from his forearm and fell.

            

A sharp dagger was buried deep in a tree trunk, only the handle left trembling slightly.

“You… what do you think you’re doing?”

Murderous intent surged like a raging wave.

            

In the distance, a figure in a black robe appeared. Her jaw was dotted with dark red blood. The white fabric of her chest was stained with a large patch of blood. In her arms, she held a tiger cub.

When she saw the woman sitting alone on the ground, her clothes pulled open, surrounded by bandits, her pupils contracted sharply.

In a single breath, ignoring Shan Meng, who was clutching his arm and howling, she flashed to Murong Yan’s side.

            

The rage erupting from the depths of her heart left Ming Qin’s mind blank. She handed the little tiger cub to Murong Yan, then took off her outer robe and gently wrapped it around the woman’s exposed skin.

She turned to face the crowd. Her pupils dilated like a black panther about to hunt. She shot out a hand, grabbed Shan Meng by his braid, yanked him forward, and then clamped down on his jaw.

Ming Qin’s face was expressionless. She only stared wide-eyed at the terrified Shan Meng, as if trying to see clearly who had dared to treat Murong Yan with such insolence.

            

“Wh-wh-what… do you want?”

His neck locked tight as if coiled by a giant python, Shan Meng’s body trembled. He struggled to breathe, trying to force more air into his lungs. His flushed face slowly turned blue.

“What do I want?”

            

Ming Qin tilted her head slightly, as if she didn’t understand why the man would ask such a stupid question.

Her fingers tightened, and the crunch of his bones being crushed was audible. Her voice was flat as she answered, “Of course I’m going to kill you.”

With that, she let go and punched him in the face. The sound of teeth shattering and cheekbones breaking, mixed with Shan Meng’s wails, made the remaining bandits’ blood run cold. They all drew their chopping sabers.

            

Ming Qin turned sideways. Her long black hair flew in the cold wind. Her eyes were red. With one hand, she dragged the unconscious Shan Meng. The blood on her body seemed even brighter against the falling snow. She looked like an ashura¹ crawling out of hell.

She raised her hand and tossed the man, who was twice her size, into the air. As he fell, she kicked him hard between the legs. Under the heavy blow, several bones snapped with a 『crack』. The man’s body flew toward the other bandits like a ragdoll.

Just as the group was scrambling to catch the flying Shan Meng, Ming Qin bent her knee and drew her sword. In the next instant, she spun out a few blossoms of sword-light and severed the hands of the four or five men who had just drawn their blades.

            

Screams of agony rose and fell, but Ming Qin showed no mercy.

If anything, the sounds the men made only made her more manic.

The Shadow Guard raised her hand, sword tip pointing upward, and drove it through the nearest man from his chin to the top of his skull, not giving him a single chance to beg for mercy. In an instant, with a flick of Ming Qin’s wrist, the man lost half his face. The rest of his body toppled straight back.

            

The others saw that their opponent was just a woman, yet she possessed such terrifying martial prowess. All their will to fight evaporated. They turned and tried to flee.

Ming Qin didn’t give them a chance to mount their horses. Without hesitation, she swung her sword at two men with their backs to her, cutting them in half. Their organs spilled onto the ground. She remained unmoved.

Then she hurled her longsword like a stone, pinning another man who was trying to mount his horse to a tree trunk.

            

The winter trees were bare. Only the head with the sword embedded in it stared with wide, desperate eyes. Blood gushed from its forehead in streams, nourishing the earth.

The last man, who had fallen to the ground, watched the woman walking toward him and trembled in fear. “Stop! Don’t… come any closer… spare me!”

The bandit’s face was a mess of snot and tears. None of his earlier arrogance remained.

            

“Just now… when Yanyan told you to stop, did you listen to her?”

Ming Qin murmured, her eyes dark and cold. Before the man could react, she smashed her fist into his face.

Hard.

            

Again and again.

The heavy thuds of the blows, mixed with the man’s screams, were especially clear in the quiet forest.

Until, at last, even those heart-wrenching screams faded away. But the fists, falling like rain, still did not stop.

            

Blood and flesh splattered. Ming Qin was unmoved. Her lowered eyes churned with a darkness she had never shown anyone before. Her whole body was wrapped in a bloodthirsty aura.

Her mind was still blank. Even more chaotic than before. She couldn’t see anything except the red on her fists.

“Ah Qin.”

            

“Ah Qin.”

A voice as clear as a spring reached her ears. The familiar call stopped the fist that had been swinging out of control.

Ming Qin lifted her head. She saw the woman not far away, holding the little tiger, wrapped in her outer robe. Her reason had not yet returned. She only stared blankly.

            

“Ah Qin, come here.” Murong Yan, sitting on the ground, raised her arm. Her gaze was gentle. She paid no attention to the raging murderous aura or the blood that covered the woman before her.

Ming Qin’s scattered consciousness gathered.

The sound of a chain clinking rang through the silent forest.

            

The beast was caged.

Stepping over the scattered flesh and severed limbs, Ming Qin walked over to Murong Yan and obediently crouched down, letting the woman fasten the chain around her neck. The vicious look in her eyes softened. Her mind gradually cleared.

“…I’m sorry.”

            

The Shadow Guard, who had been so arrogant moments before, now sounded almost tearful. She hung her head like a hunting dog that had done wrong, waiting for its master’s scolding.

“I’m sorry. I scared you.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me. I knew Ah Qin would come.” Murong Yan said it with certainty, her voice soothing. Then she smiled. “How did Ah Qin bring back a little ball of fluff?”

            

“He lost his mother. He wouldn’t have lasted long alone in the forest.” Ming Qin wiped her bloody hands, then straightened the woman’s collar and tied her sash as she spoke. “I remembered I promised to get you a tiger to throw around, so I brought him back.”

Murong Yan looked at Ming Qin’s serious expression and couldn’t help but want to laugh, but she was seized by a dry cough instead.

It made the Shadow Guard quickly help her into the carriage, tossing the furry little ball that was on the ground into the carriage after her. Then, outside the carriage, she changed out of her filthy clothes, climbed onto the driver’s seat, and drove away.

            

The snow fell heavier and heavier.

Flake by flake, it piled into a vast, white landscape, covering the smell of blood in the air and the carnage on the ground.

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