Chapter 10
CheengLong felt a sudden chill run down his spine as he stared at the qiang pointing at ShaoMao, a qiang that glistened an ebony black. The soldier who held the qiang was grinning and smirking at the same time. He would receive a hefty pay from whoever his leader was, and CheengLong would not let him live to get it. CheengLong knew that ShaoMao would be dead if he pulled the trigger.
As CheengLong looked at the man's red and green silk uniform, he felt his body go rigid. These were General TongLong's men, and they were very well-trained in firearms. He would have to take the qiang away from the soldier somehow, then lead them out of the cave. CheengLong tightened his grip on his jade sword. As a dragon stylist, he needed to fight in an open space, not in small compact areas like this waterfall cave that only fits cat stylists who are small and agile like ShaoMao. His main problem now was to get ShaoMao away from the qiang.
"TongLong!" CheengLong shouted as loudly as he could. Just as he had predicted, the soldiers immediately turned towards the waterfall. CheengLong kicked the qiang away from the soldier's hand using all the strength and energy he had all accumulated to one point of his heel. As the soldier howled in pain, holding his injured hand, CheengLong leaped onto him, and put his hands under the man's armpits and pulled back, slicing his sword across the man's jugular vein with the sword's hilt in his mouth just as ShaoMao had taught him. Upon the sound of cracking bones and spurting blood, CheengLong leaped back from the crumpled heap of the dead body and managed to stab another oncoming soldier in the shoulder. Fresh blood blossomed onto his already red shirt, forming many layers of flowering crimson. The soldier yelled and picked up his sword in another hand, raising it, he ran at CheengLong. CheengLong was ready. When the weapon came towards him, he turned and leaned backwards then pivoted to another leg and swung back, neatly slicing off his opponent's head.
Click...fizz...BANG!
CheengLong ducked down just in time to avoid the lead ball of a qiang as it flew past him, then burrowing itself deep into the middle of two bones of the ribcage of another soldier, who roared and left a deep cut on his fellow soldier's leg. CheengLong left the two idiots to their private fighting as he scanned around and spotted ShaoMao. She had done a fair share of her fighting, too. Three soldiers were strewn on the floor, one with a qiang deeply plunged in his throat, and another with lead balls in his chest. ShaoMao did not know how to use the qiang, but she must have hit all the lead balls back to the soldiers who fired at her. All of them bore the deep scratch marks of ShaoMao's cat weapons. She is so quick and agile. CheengLong thought as he jumped off a flat rock and reached ShaoMao.
"ShaoMao, lead them out," CheengLong whispered to ShaoMao. The small-framed girl nodded slightly, and, shoulder-to-shoulder, they slowly led the fools out of the cave and to their deaths.
"We need to throw the qiangs in the water," CheengLong nodded in agreement to ShaoMao's plan and replied shortly as the men lunged at him once again, "you do that, dear." He swerved as a lead ball whizzed past him, leaving an ashy mark on his sleeve. CheengLong locked his left hand in a powerful dragon fist, his knuckles showing white, and locked them around the soldier with the qiang. He gagged, and CheengLong released his grip as ShaoMao finished him off with a single blow of her crystal sword and tossed the qiang into the water, unloading the remaining bullets and throwing them towards CheengLong, who caught them.
CheengLong looked around for other attacking soldiers. Then he noticed that something was amiss. There were twenty of them at first, and they had killed five in the cave and three in total outside the cave. There should be twelve of them, but as he scanned around, he saw that one of them was gone. CheengLong felt his heart pounding. Many years of fighting told him that the missing soldier had gone to find help.
And he was right. There was a clatter of armor, and a man in a jade appeared. In his left hand, he held a jade sword, and in another, a glistening, unsheathed straight sword. And behind him, lined up like a thick wall, was more than 50 men, waiting for him to swing his long ponytail braid, a signal of attack, of war.