As soon as Zhao Ming’s torch struck the first mate, Murong Xue wasted no time.
"Now! Attack!" she commanded, her voice cutting through the chaos.
The Azure Dragon disciples surged forward, their blades flashing as they clashed with the mutineers. Murong Xue led them from the front, her movements swift and precise. She parried a wild swing from an opponent before driving her sword into his shoulder, forcing him to collapse with a pained grunt.
"Stay together! Push them back!" she called out, ensuring her disciples didn''t get separated in the melee.
From his position on the upper deck, Zhao Ming observed everything carefully. His eyes darted to the hooded man, who had yet to personally enter the fray. Instead, he stood calmly, watching with an amused smirk.
One of the disciples, panting from exertion, called out, "Senior Sister! Their formation is tightening!"
Murong Xue cursed under her breath. The initial ambush had worked, but now the mutineers were regaining their footing.
Zhao Ming narrowed his eyes. "We need to disrupt them again," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
He turned to a nearby disciple who had stayed back. "Do we have any more throwing knives?"
"Just a few, Brother in-law."
"Good enough. Target their feet or arms—throw when I give the signal."
Murong Xue overheard and glanced up at him. "What are you planning?"
"Just keeping the pressure on. If we let them regroup, we''ll be in trouble," Zhao Ming replied, his mind already forming the next step.
She nodded in agreement, slashing at an approaching enemy. "Then make it quick."
Zhao Ming exhaled slowly. The battle was still uncertain, but one thing was clear—this fight wasn’t going to be easy.
---
Murong Xue deflected a blade and countered with a swift slash, forcing her opponent back. Just as she moved to press forward, another mutineer filled the gap, striking in perfect sync with his comrade.
Her eyes narrowed. "They’re getting organized."
Zhao Ming, observing from the upper deck, immediately noticed the shift. The mutineers had tightened their formation, no longer fighting like desperate rebels but as disciplined soldiers. Their wild attacks were replaced by coordinated movements, making them far more dangerous.
The hooded man smirked from the sidelines, his voice carrying over the chaos. "Hold formation! Drive them back!"
At his command, the mutineers adjusted their stance, attacking with newfound precision. The clash of metal rang through the air as Zhao Ming’s allies found themselves on the defensive.
"Tch." Murong Xue barely dodged a strike, frustration creeping into her voice. "They weren’t even trying before?!"
One of the Azure Dragon disciples staggered, struggling to block an incoming blow. A mercenary beside him grunted in pain as he was forced back.
Then came another voice, rough and filled with anger. "Kill them all! No one gets out alive!"
Zhao Ming’s gaze shifted to the first mate, who was still standing despite his injuries. Blood trickled from his burned face, but his fury remained unshaken.
Murong Xue clicked her tongue. "This is bad. Their morale’s coming back. If we let this continue, we’ll be the ones getting pushed back."
Zhao Ming remained silent for a moment, scanning the battlefield. Then, his voice rang out, calm but firm. "We still have the advantage in positioning. They’re stronger than we expected, but they think we’re just martial artists. They’re not worried about strategy."
The hooded man’s smirk deepened as he barked out new orders.
"Reinforce the left flank. Keep the pressure on them. Cut down the weak first—break their morale."
The first mate, wiping the blood from his face, let out a roar. "You heard him! Push forward! Kill them all!"
The mutineers moved with renewed aggression, their attacks forcing Zhao Ming’s side into a retreat. The defenders struggled as their footing became more unstable.
Murong Xue deflected another strike, gritting her teeth. "This bastard knows how to command," she muttered.
Zhao Ming narrowed his eyes. The battle had shifted against them. If he didn’t act now, they’d be overwhelmed.
"We need to disrupt them before they fully take control," he said, glancing at the disciples who still had throwing knives.
Murong Xue shot him a sharp look. "You want us to throw them?"
"No," Zhao Ming corrected. "Target the mast—if we can loosen the support ropes, part of it might drop."
One of the disciples hesitated. "But... what if it falls on our own people?"
Zhao Ming exhaled. "That’s the risk. But if we do nothing, we’ll lose for sure."
Murong Xue smirked despite the chaos. "Hmph. Risky, but bold. I like it."
Zhao Ming turned to the disciples. "Aim for the weakest part of the mast supports. Wait for my signal."
Murong Xue readied her sword, lowering her stance. "And when it drops?"
Zhao Ming’s gaze sharpened. "We charge."
A tense silence followed. Then Murong Xue chuckled. "Fine. Just don’t take too long—I’d rather not be the one on the defensive."
Zhao Ming nodded and raised his hand, signaling the disciples. Their one chance to turn the tide was now.
<hr>
As Gao Ren descended into the lower deck, the dim lanterns cast flickering shadows against the wooden walls. The distant clash of steel and the muffled cries from above made the scholars huddle together, fear evident in their wide eyes.
Then—shouts.
"They''re already inside!" one of the disciples hissed, gripping his sword tightly.
Gao Ren’s sharp gaze snapped forward. A group of mutineers had emerged from a hidden passage near the storage area. Their leader, a burly man with a jagged scar running down his jaw, grinned wickedly.
"Kill the scholars! Take the cargo!" he barked.
Before the scholars could even react, a battle erupted in the narrow corridors.
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"Hold the line!" Gao Ren commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos.
His mercenaries and disciples sprang into action, forming a barrier between the terrified scholars and the advancing mutineers. The mercenaries, hardened by battle, fought viciously—one of them driving his dagger into an enemy’s gut before kicking the body aside.
A mutineer lunged for the storage crates, but one of Gao Ren’s mercenaries intercepted him with a brutal axe swing, sending him crashing into a pile of barrels.
"Protect the cargo!" the mercenary bellowed.
Gao Ren surged forward like an unstoppable force. His blade flashed, cutting down a mutineer before he could raise his weapon. Another enemy tried to slip past him, but Gao Ren’s footwork was precise—sidestepping and driving his sword into the man’s ribs.
"Push them back! Don’t let a single one past!" Gao Ren ordered.
The defenders fought fiercely, but the mutineers were just as relentless.
Then, one of the mutineers sprinted toward the storage area, eyes gleaming with desperation.
"They found the cargo!" a mutineer yelled. "Kill the scholars!"
Panic surged through the unarmed scholars, but before the mutineers could reach them—
THWACK!
An arrow shot through the corridor, embedding itself in a mutineer’s chest. One of Gao Ren’s mercenaries, a veteran archer, reloaded swiftly, loosing another shot.
Gao Ren took the opportunity, cutting through another attacker before turning to his men.
"Secure the cargo! The rest of you, with me!"
The mercenaries and disciples responded instantly, some moving to barricade the storage area while others reinforced the front line.
One of the mutineers, seeing their plan failing, snarled and spat on the ground. "If we can’t take the cargo—" his eyes gleamed with malice. "Kill them all!"
The surviving mutineers roared, throwing caution aside as they charged.
Gao Ren’s grip on his sword tightened.
"Over my dead body," he growled.
The battle below deck was far from over.
<hr>
Murong Xue deflected a strike, kicking her opponent back. "They''re regrouping too fast!"
Zhao Ming’s gaze flickered to the mast above. Without hesitation, he gave the order. "Throw the knives—target the mast supports!"
The disciples acted immediately. With sharp precision, they hurled their blades at the weakened wood and rigging.
Thunk! Snap!
The ropes snapped under the impact. A loud creak echoed across the deck.
Then—
CRASH!
The heavy mast rigging collapsed, sending ropes, sails, and wooden beams tumbling down. Mutineers shouted in alarm as debris fell, knocking some off their feet.
Murong Xue’s eyes widened slightly at the sudden destruction. “That actually worked?”
"Of course it worked," Zhao Ming replied coolly. "Now—charge!"
Murong Xue didn’t need to be told twice. She surged forward, blade flashing as she cut down a disoriented enemy. The disciples followed, striking before the mutineers could regroup.
The hooded man’s expression darkened as he assessed the situation. His fingers curled into a fist.
“Tch,” he muttered. “Fools.”
He turned sharply toward the first mate. “Enough playing around. Finish them.”
The first mate, still nursing his wounded eye, gritted his teeth but nodded. "You heard him! Regroup and counterattack!"
Despite their losses, the mutineers quickly reformed, their discipline holding firm. The battle was far from over.
Before Zhao Ming could issue another order—
BOOOOM!
A massive wave slammed against the ship’s side. The entire vessel lurched violently, sending combatants from both sides tumbling.
Screams filled the air.
Several mutineers, already near the edge, lost their footing and were flung overboard. Their terrified cries were swallowed by the roaring sea.
Azure Dragon disciples fared little better—some were knocked off their feet, while others were hit by flying debris. One was struck in the shoulder by a broken wooden beam, his pained shout barely audible over the storm. Another disciple rolled across the deck, narrowly avoiding a loose barrel that crashed against the railing.
Murong Xue wasn’t spared from the chaos. Just as she was about to cut down an opponent, the wave’s impact sent her stumbling. A stray piece of debris—a thick coil of rope—whipped across her back, nearly knocking the wind out of her. She grit her teeth, catching herself just in time before an enemy could take advantage of her momentary weakness.
"Tch—annoying," she muttered, shaking off the pain as she slashed at a mutineer who had managed to stay on his feet.
Zhao Ming gripped the railing tightly, steadying himself as his eyes flicked toward the hooded man. Their fight was momentarily interrupted, but the storm had only made things more dangerous.
The real battle was just beginning.
<hr>
The deck was a battlefield of chaos and blood. The storm raged on, waves crashing against the ship, throwing men off balance. The mutineers, once holding a strong formation, were now scattered, their cohesion shattered. Some clung desperately to the rigging, while others were flung overboard, their screams lost to the howling wind.
Murong Xue sliced through another mutineer, her blade flashing under the dim lantern light. She was breathing hard, her clothes damp from the sea spray, but her eyes burned with unwavering determination.
Behind her, a sharp voice rang out.
"Still alive?"
Murong Xue whirled just in time to see Gao Ren stepping onto the upper deck, his blade dripping with blood. He looked no worse for wear, though the scar on his cheek was smeared with fresh red streaks.
"You''re late," she shot back, slicing through another enemy.
Gao Ren snorted. "Had to clean up your mess below deck. Mutineers had a hidden passage. Almost got to the cargo."
Murong Xue frowned. "And?"
"Locked it up. Left my men to guard it." Gao Ren parried a wild strike, then drove his knee into his attacker’s gut before finishing him off. "Figured you could use some help up here."
Murong Xue scoffed, sidestepping another blow. "I was handling it just fine."
"Sure," Gao Ren said dryly, ducking under a swing and countering with a brutal slash. "That why your side''s still swarming with these bastards?"
Murong Xue clicked her tongue, parrying another attack before kicking the enemy off balance. "Less talking, more fighting!"
"Gladly," Gao Ren muttered.
Their movements synced almost instinctively—Murong Xue struck high, Gao Ren struck low. She was the quick, precise blade, while he was the brute force that tore through anything in his way. They pushed forward relentlessly, forcing the remaining mutineers to backpedal toward the railing.
Zhao Ming, watching from his vantage point, narrowed his eyes. The first mate was already wounded and retreating, his shouts growing more desperate as panic spread among his men. The mutineers were falling apart.
But one figure remained composed—the hooded man.
Unlike his subordinates, he did not panic. Instead, he simply observed, his eyes sharp, his expression unreadable. When another wave crashed against the ship, nearly knocking a few men off their feet, he let out a quiet sigh.
“Tch. Useless fools.”
He took a step back, retreating toward the shadows.
Murong Xue caught the movement and immediately shouted, “He’s slipping away!”
Gao Ren’s grip tightened around his sword. “Not if I can help it.”
Zhao Ming’s eyes flashed. “Don’t let him escape.”
The battle was turning in their favor.
But it wasn’t over yet.
<hr>
The storm raged on, the ship swaying violently as the battle neared its conclusion. The mutineers, sensing their imminent defeat, fought desperately, but their formation was crumbling. Zhao Ming’s forces pressed forward, gaining control of the deck.
The first mate, bloodied and exhausted, still roared commands, trying to rally his men. "Fight, you cowards! If we fall here, we die anyway!" His voice was hoarse, but his determination hadn''t wavered.
Meanwhile, the hooded man moved swiftly, his sharp eyes scanning for an escape route amidst the chaos. His calm demeanor had vanished, replaced by cold calculation.
Zhao Ming, still positioned above, caught sight of his movement. "They''re trying to run," he muttered. His grip tightened around the railing. They couldn’t let them escape—not after everything.
Murong Xue wiped the rain from her face, her sword gleaming under flashes of lightning. "Then we take them down before they can."
At that moment, a monstrous wave crashed against the ship, sending several combatants flying. Screams filled the air as some of the mutineers were thrown overboard, vanishing into the dark waters below. Others crashed onto the deck, groaning in pain as wooden debris scattered everywhere.
Murong Xue barely managed to stay on her feet, gripping a rope to steady herself. Her breath came ragged, but her focus remained locked on the first mate. She could see him stumbling, disoriented from the sudden impact.
Zhao Ming didn’t hesitate. "Now! Capture them before they recover!"
Murong Xue lunged forward, slamming her sword against the first mate’s weapon. He growled in frustration, barely holding his ground. Behind her, the Azure Dragon disciples moved in, surrounding him from all sides. His resistance was fierce, but it was only a matter of time before he was forced down.
On the other side of the deck, the hooded man made his move. He darted toward the ship’s edge, ready to leap into the stormy waters. But just as he was about to jump, a hand shot out—gripping his arm like an iron vice.
Gao Ren.
The mercenary captain’s expression was dark as he yanked the hooded man back. "Not so fast."
The hooded man struggled, his face twisting in anger. But Gao Ren’s strength was overwhelming, and with a powerful motion, he slammed the man onto the deck.
Zhao Ming’s voice rang out across the ship. "Your leaders have been captured! Surrender now, and you might live!"
The remaining mutineers, seeing their first mate and the hooded man subdued, hesitated. The battle had drained them, and now, with no one left to lead them, their will to fight crumbled. One by one, their weapons clattered onto the deck as they surrendered.
At the center of the chaos, the ship’s captain lay barely conscious, his wounds severe. Crew members rushed to his side, lifting him carefully. "Get him to his quarters!" one of them shouted.
Zhao Ming exhaled, exhaustion creeping in. He turned to the remaining crew. "Secure the ship. We’re not safe yet."
With the battle over, the storm now became their biggest threat. The wind howled, and the waves showed no sign of relenting. But at least, for now, they had survived.