Moonlit Hearts

Chapter 45: The Shadow's Ally

Before you read, let me wish a very Happy New Year ! May this year be good for you all and best wishes ! 
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The two soldiers charged at Wangji, their weapons gleaming in the dim light, desperation etched into every movement. They moved like men who knew their odds were slim but hoped for a miracle, their swords slicing through the air with reckless determination. 

Wangji remained composed, his grip on Bichen steady, his posture unwavering. The first soldier struck, a downward slash meant to cleave through him, but Wangji sidestepped effortlessly, his blade flicking out in a smooth arc to redirect the attack. The force of the deflection sent the soldier stumbling, his balance momentarily lost. 

The second soldier saw an opening and lunged, his blade aimed with deadly intent. Wangji pivoted sharply, evading the strike, but a miscalculated step caused the edge of the sword to graze his side. Pain flared briefly, but Wangji showed no sign of faltering. His movements were deliberate, his expression calm, as though the wound were inconsequential. 

The soldiers hesitated for a breath, their fear palpable. They knew who he was—not just a warrior but a legend. The Sandman, the God of the Moon, wielder of the famed Bichen. His name alone had haunted countless fireside whispers, and now, faced with the man himself, their desperation became a futile flurry of blows. 

They fought with the desperation of men trying to defy fate, but Wangji moved as if he already knew their defeat. 

He sidestepped the first soldier's strike, his blade carving a precise arc that disarmed him. The second lunged, but Wangji swept his legs out, sending him crashing to the ground. 

The man gasped as Bichen hovered over his chest, gleaming like moonlight. Wangji struck a pressure point, leaving him unconscious. 

The clatter of reinforcements echoed. More soldiers surged forward. Blood dripped from Wangji's wound—a reminder of his mortality. 

But his resolve was unshaken. He fought for Wei Ying, for duty. The odds didn't matter. Only the outcome did.

Three soldiers charged him, weapons raised. Wangji stepped forward, moonlight glinting off Bichen as he waited for the first strike. The wide swing came fast, but he ducked under it, sweeping his leg to unbalance the attacker. As the soldier stumbled, Wangji's blade arced cleanly across his side, dropping him with a strangled cry. 

The second lunged with a dagger. Wangji pivoted, the blade narrowly missing him. With a sharp strike from Bichen's flat edge, he disarmed the man and sent the dagger spinning away. The soldier hesitated, stepping back—but Wangji struck the side of his neck, rendering him unconscious. 

The final soldier was different—quicker, sharper. His eyes burned with focus as he feinted low and followed with a powerful overhead swing. Wangji barely blocked the strike, the impact jarring his injured ribs. Blood seeped through his robes, but his resolve held firm. 

The soldier pressed forward, sensing weakness. Wangji sidestepped a strike and, in a single fluid motion, cut through his defenses. Bichen pierced deep into the man's shoulder. The soldier staggered, but Wangji gave no quarter. With one decisive thrust, he drove Bichen through the man's chest. 

The soldier fell, lifeless. 

Wangji stood over the fallen soldier, his chest heaving as blood seeped through his robes. His hand pressed instinctively against the wound at his side, but there was no time to address it. The battle raged on, and reinforcements were closing in. 

Four soldiers circled him now, their eyes calculating, their stances poised for attack. Wangji adjusted his grip on Bichen, ready to face them despite the toll on his body. He knew escape without injury was unlikely, but he would take them down.