Chapter 50: Darkness

While Pang Yu stood frozen in shock, the fight in the main hall raged on.

Wang Guohua had no time to retrieve his heavy crossbow. Seizing the moment when the two groups of black-clad men were split front and rear, he charged straight at the four ahead. The lead black-clad man was just pulling his waist saber from the belly of a rioter.

Wang Guohua seized the opening and hacked down at the man's head. The blade moved with tremendous speed — if the man stepped back, Wang Guohua could seize the upper hand and press the attack. But the man did not retreat at all; instead, he raised his arm to meet the blade.

Clang! A loud ring — Wang Guohua's saber was parried aside. Before he could even examine what had happened, the black-clad man had already swung his blade in a counterstrike. Wang Guohua had no skill for blocking with his arm and could only retreat a step. The black-clad man's saber cut through empty air. Wang Guohua was just about to step forward and counter when a flash of steel glinted ahead. His soul nearly fled his body. In a flash of desperate wit, he rolled to the side and barely dodged.

It was another black-clad man behind, wielding a long spear of six or seven chi. The spearman followed up with another thrust. Wang Guohua's trusted man rushed in to counter, pulling Wang Guohua out of danger.

Gasping for breath, Wang Guohua looked at the black-clad man. Only then did he see the iron arm-guards on the man's arms and the chain mail on his body — no wonder he dared block a blade directly.

Of the four black-clad men who had entered through the main gate, the two in front wore chain mail and carried waist sabers, while the two behind wielded long spears of six or seven chi. They coordinated with the armored swordsmen in front, striking through gaps.

Wang Guohua's followers also met them four against four and landed several cuts on the two in chain mail, but none could break through the armor. The black-clad men, by contrast, worked together with practiced skill and in the blink of an eye had skewered two men with their long spears.

The black-clad men cut through like a hot knife through butter. Wang Guohua finally recognized it — the military sword-and-spear combination. He bellowed, "It's grunts! To the side hall!"

Pang Yu's limbs were still weak. Wang Guohua's shout jolted him awake. He looked up and scanned the hall. Wang Guohua's group had already fallen back to the entrance of the side hall, only three or four men left. The black-clad men had only one wounded; the other seven had surrounded Wang Guohua's position, leaving both the front and rear hall doors unguarded. If there was a moment to flee, it was now.

Countless thoughts flashed through his mind like lightning. The black-clad men already held a dominant advantage. If nothing changed, they would soon finish off Wang Guohua and his few remaining men. Next would be everyone else in the hall. Given how meticulously the black-clad men had set up their pincer attack, they would certainly have left men on the only mountain path to intercept anyone fleeing. Even escaping the hall might not mean safely leaving Yunji Temple.

And Wang Guohua's group had drunk the poison — it was only a question of when it would take effect. If by some stroke of luck they defeated the black-clad men first, then Pang Yu still had a sliver of hope of being the final victor.

The deliberation did not last long. Pang Yu, who had been motionless, suddenly sprang up with all his strength. He kicked over the dying rioter in front of him, then sprinted two steps and knocked two torches off the hall pillar ahead. Without pausing, he ran to the next pillar, striking down torches as he went without stopping for an instant.

Only six or seven torches were still burning in the hall, and in a flash four had been knocked down. The brightness dimmed sharply; vision became extremely blurred.

The darkness bred terror. The two sides locked in combat in the main hall pulled apart and broke contact. Wang Guohua's group gained a brief moment to catch their breath.

Now only two torches remained, in front of the Tathagata statue near the rear door. Though their flames had grown weak, they provided the only light left. If those were also extinguished, the black-clad side would lose all their advantage.

One of the black-clad men with a long spear saw this. Abandoning Wang Guohua and the others, he charged straight at Pang Yu, intent on stopping him from putting out the torches. But he was a step too slow. Seeing Pang Yu about to reach them, he let out an angry roar and hurled his long spear.

A long spear, heavy and unwieldy, was no javelin after all. Running as he was, the black-clad man could not control the throw. The moment it left his hand, it went off target. The spearhead grazed Pang Yu's shoulder and slid past, leaving only a long, shallow gash.

Pang Yu grunted. The force of the spear's momentum knocked him off balance, and the short blade in his right hand slipped from his grip and fell.

The black-clad man, having thrown his spear, immediately drew a sharp short blade and continued his pursuit from behind, now only a few steps away from Pang Yu.

Pang Yu had no time to check his wound. Stumbling, he ran past the offering table, yanked hard at the torches with his left hand, and sent the two torches spinning through the air.

The footsteps behind him drew closer and closer. Pang Yu could even hear the black-clad man's panting. He made a sharp turn around the Tathagata statue, and using this last remaining light, sprinted a few steps toward the rear door.

The two torches struck the hall wall and dropped to the ground, scattering two bursts of red sparks. In that flickering glow, Pang Yu memorized the position of the rear door's gate leaf.

The firelight vanished. Before his eyes lay total darkness. The black-clad man behind him was almost within arm's reach. Pang Yu summoned his last reserves of strength. The moment his body passed the gate leaf, his right hand wrenched it outward with all his might.

Thud!

The black-clad man behind him slammed hard into the gate leaf. With a miserable cry, he tumbled to the ground and rolled several times.

Pang Yu heard the sound of a blade hitting the floor. In the darkness, he had no idea where it was, but at least he knew his opponent was now empty-handed and, after that collision, would have lost most of his fighting ability. This was the perfect moment to counterattack.

Without a moment's hesitation, Pang Yu stopped running. He turned around, followed the sound of groaning, and threw himself directly onto the man. The man had never imagined his opponent would be so bold — having just barely escaped pursuit, he was already turning back to kill.

The man had been struck in the right chest by the gate leaf. The intense pain had caused a brief motor impairment; even breathing was extremely difficult. Now only his left hand could muster any strength. In the darkness, he could not strike effectively. The two grappled with each other on the floor.

Unable to see in the dark, both fought by touch alone. The black-clad man could feel that his opponent's strength was not great. As soon as his right hand recovered, he was fully confident he could strangle this person with his bare hands.

But before he could recover, he felt his left arm tighten — seized by both of his opponent's hands. Then the enemy seemed to raise his body; the pressure pinning him down lessened. The black-clad man's right hand eased slightly. He was just about to push himself up when, in an instant, his left arm was wrenched downward with tremendous force. His opponent's legs clamped down on his left arm, threading over his chest and neck, the heel hooking against the other side of his body, while the opponent's crotch pressed against his elbow, rendering him nearly immobile.

A massive pain shot through his left arm and chest. The black-clad man had never expected to encounter such a technique in the darkness. His upper body was bent backward like a drawn bow. Any attempt to move any part of his body produced unbearable agony; he could not even maintain his breathing.

Pang Yu was drenched in sweat. Both hands clutched the man's left arm tightly to his chest, his legs locking the opponent's body in place. This was the Cross Collar Choke from Gracie Wine-Jitsu. Once the position was locked in, it was nearly unbreakable. The black-clad man had never seen such a technique before, and being already injured, he had allowed Pang Yu to secure the lock with ease.

Normally, once the lock was set, the opponent could only tap out and beg for mercy. But clearly this opponent did not know how to beg for mercy — and Pang Yu had no intention of sparing him either.

Both hands gripping the enemy's left arm tight, Pang Yu thrust his hips upward with all his strength. A sharp crack rang out — whether it was bone breaking or the elbow joint snapping was impossible to tell. The black-clad man let out only half a scream before his taut body went completely limp, utterly still.

By now, Pang Yu was drenched in sweat, his mouth emitting heavy, ragged breaths. A searing pain burned from his shoulder. Pang Yu reached to touch it — slick and sticky. Half his sleeve was already soaked through with blood.

That wound was a gift from this very man. The thought suddenly ignited a surge of rage in Pang Yu. Without caring whether the black-clad man was dead or merely wounded, he groped for the man's head, seized his hair with his left hand to hold it steady, and drove his elbow into the face and head several times with brutal force.

The stifled fury in his chest eased slightly. Pang Yu still dared not stand. He lay on the ground, steadying his breath, his hands groping everywhere across the floor, trying to find the short blade the black-clad man had dropped. He searched for a long while but found nothing.

"Don't panic, seal the courtyard gate!" a man's voice barked orders in the darkness. "Two men, get those torches lit again."

A few replies, then a flurry of chaotic footsteps.

Pang Yu felt he had heard that voice before, but it was not familiar. In his tension, he could not place it for the moment. Not daring to continue searching for the blade, he crawled back into the hall along the base of the Buddha statue. Peeking out from the edge of the statue, he observed the situation in the main hall. The two fallen torches on the floor still flickered faintly, illuminating only a very small area.

A clattering sound rose from the center of the hall. Pang Yu now knew it was the noise of the black-clad men's chain mail shifting as they moved. And that shout from Wang Guohua earlier — "grunts" — indicated that these men were very likely soldiers.

"Could they be the Chizhou Troops?" Pang Yu's mind filled with doubt. If they were the Chizhou Troops, there should not be only this few. The Chizhou Troops numbered over a thousand, as far as Pang Yu knew — though of course, he had no idea how many empty payroll slots were among them.

Two black-clad men picked up the torches that had not fully gone out. Firelight blazed anew. The six black-clad men gathered under the torches, weapons in hand, and advanced together toward the side hall entrance — the ones in chain mail still at the front.

The lead man, his face covered with black cloth, suddenly stopped. Raising his saber, he counted heads and asked, "Where's Qiu Er?" It was the same voice that had just issued orders. Pang Yu guessed that Qiu Er was the man who had chased him. The leader had only now realized one man was missing.

Before his words faded — Twang! A resonant thrum.

A crossbow bolt flashed out from the side hall, streaking through the air at a speed almost too fast for the eye to follow. The lead black-clad man had no time to react. The bolt tore through his chain mail effortlessly and, with a dull thud, struck him in the shoulder blade.

The leader let out a miserable cry. As if struck by a heavy hammer, he stumbled backward several steps and fell flat on his back. No one had expected a gang of rioters to possess a heavy crossbow. The black-clad men fell into chaos, all rushing to check on their leader — still holding the torches.

Finally, one black-clad man came to his senses and shouted, "Charge in first! Don't let him reload!"

With a great roar, he raised his torch and charged toward the side hall. But he was already a step too late. Another thrum of the bowstring — a crossbow bolt pierced through his chest, the arrowhead savagely ripping through the black-clad man's torso and protruding a section out his back before stopping. The shaft pushed the chain mail on his back up high. (Note 1)

The black-clad man lost all motor function in an instant. His legs buckled and he knelt on the ground, his body swaying, unable to rise again. Yet he did not die immediately. He could only emit gurgling sounds, a continuous stream of bloody froth pouring from his mouth. Blood gushed like a spring from the wound in his chest, flowing over the shaft and fletching, then dripping like a string of beads onto the stone floor.

The remaining black-clad men were at a loss, unsure whether to charge or retreat. Without their leader's command, the combat effectiveness of these few men instantly dropped by more than a notch.

From the pitch-black side hall came a creaking, ratcheting sound — it was Wang Guohua spanning his crossbow again. This Jue Zhang Crossbow was drawn by stepping on it with the foot; its power far exceeded that of a bow drawn by arm strength. Moreover, when aiming, the arm did not need to exert force, and it was aided by a simple sighting mechanism. In both accuracy and power, it far surpassed the bow. Its drawbacks were its slow rate of fire and high cost.

"Put out the torches!" the wounded leader forced out three words with great difficulty.

The four remaining black-clad men hurriedly threw away their torches. The hall plunged back into darkness. Unlike before, the black-clad men now desperately craved the darkness.

They had just regained a sliver of security when another thrum of the bowstring sounded from the side hall. Wang Guohua had memorized their position and fired blind. The four black-clad men had not yet scattered; they were gathered around their fallen leader, preparing to move him, which made them a large target.

That blind-fired bolt actually struck one of the spearmen. The spearman wore no chain mail, and the immense power of the Jue Zhang Crossbow drove the bolt clean through his thigh.

The spearman screamed in agony in the darkness. The remaining three black-clad men dared not delay. Dragging their leader, they scrambled toward the wall to take cover.

Pang Yu could not help but silently cheer for Wang Guohua. Wang Guohua must have retrieved the heavy crossbow under cover of darkness. When the black-clad men first lit their torches, he had not fired rashly. Only after the black-clad men had gathered and he had identified their leader did Wang Guohua loose his first shot — his goal being to disrupt their command.

Then, exploiting the chaos after the black-clad men lost their commander, he had bought enough time to span the bowstring again. With a single Jue Zhang Crossbow, he had taken three black-clad men out of the fight — a testament to Wang Guohua's extraordinary composure.

Wang Guohua couldn't find a new target for the moment, and the side hall fell quiet.

The wounded bandits who weren't dead yet howled in agony. The few torches that had fallen in the hall still held some dying embers, occasionally flickering with faint sparks. Both sides had once again returned to a standoff in the darkness, but with the powerful crossbow aiding him and his familiarity with the main hall's layout, Wang Guohua had actually gained the upper hand.

The other rioters in the hall were either dead or wounded. Those lightly wounded gritted their teeth against the pain, not daring to make a sound. These men were crafty sorts in daily life; they knew the danger of the moment and absolutely dared not reveal their positions. Only the gravely wounded, unable to endure the searing agony of their injuries, still cried out loudly in the hall.

Suddenly, amid the screams, came the sound of retching. It came from the southeast corner of the main hall.

Pang Yu's heart stirred. When Grass Crow Poison takes effect, vomiting is one of the symptoms. This meant the bandits who had been drinking were beginning to succumb to the poison. Yet there were still three black-clad men with fighting strength remaining. Once Wang Guohua and his men all succumbed to the poison, the black-clad men would regain the upper hand.

Thinking of this, Pang Yu felt he had to find a weapon immediately. He needed to drive off or eliminate the black-clad men before Wang Guohua was poisoned.

When the torchlight had flared up earlier, Pang Yu had spotted his fallen short blade not far away. Now, with the cover of darkness restored, Pang Yu crawled in its general direction.

In the pitch blackness, Pang Yu crawled slowly across the floor. A sticky liquid gradually coated his fingers. The hall was thick with the overpowering stench of blood.

He had barely crawled a few steps when the side hall suddenly lit up. A torch came spinning through the air and landed right in front of the black-clad man who had been shot through by the crossbow bolt. He still knelt on the ground, head drooping.

This torch was one that hadn't been used before, and it now burned quite vigorously, restoring some light to the main hall. But for the black-clad men's group, this was not good news.

Pang Yu immediately stopped moving and lay silently flat against the floor, not daring to make the slightest sound.

The torch, fed by pine resin, blazed with bright flames. Because it had been thrown too close to the black-clad man, the fire ignited his clothes. The hall filled with the acrid stench of burning protein. That black-clad man burned motionlessly in the Buddha hall, forming an exceedingly eerie tableau.

The sound of retching also came from the side hall. After a moment, Wang Guohua's calm voice emerged from the side hall, echoing through the dim main hall.

"Fang Bazong, why cover your face when going out in the middle of the night? Too ashamed to show yourself?"

Note 1: According to modern tests, the power of the Jue Zhang Crossbow can penetrate chain mail and embed eight centimeters into flesh. The chest wall is not very thick. If a shot strikes the chest and is not blocked by the ribs, the Jue Zhang Crossbow should be capable of piercing through a human body.