Chapter 25: The Six Harmonies Spear

"Seven feet is a spear, level with the brow is a staff, with the chest a cudgel, over the head a pole… In spear technique, an extra inch means extra strength..."

"The primary moves are: thrust, stab, sweep, crash, coil, circle, block, seize, pounce, tap, flick, and flourish—ever-changing and impossible to defend against."

"Yet in the army, spearwork values substance over show, so it's pared down to six forms: crash, draw, press, cover, lift, and thrust."

As he spoke, Yang Xian, who had been standing with his spear planted, gave a kick to the weapon's butt; in an instant, he switched from holding it single-handed to gripping it with both hands, level before him.

At that moment, a chilling aura of killing intent radiated from him.

"The spear in the army is weak in defense, strong in offense—speed, precision, and ferocity are what count."

"Miss Bai, watch closely!"

With that, Yang Xian flicked the spear in his hands; the red tassel at the tip traced a dazzling arc through the air.

As the strands of the tassel scattered, the spearhead shot forth from the crimson haze at an unbelievable angle.

A sharp crack! The little tree serving as a target was instantly pierced clean through by the spearhead.

"This is the thrust! The primary offensive technique of the spear."

He drew the spear back and swept it down, driving the tip into the trunk from above.

"This is press..."

"This is lift..."

"And this is..."

One by one, Yang Xian demonstrated the six forms of spearwork, repeating them several times and pointing out a few errors in Bai Xian's execution.

By the time he finished teaching the last move, it was already three quarters past the hour of the Dog.

"This technique is called the Six Harmonies Spear. The moves themselves aren't complicated, but they rely on proficiency. If you wish to excel at the spear, miss, you'll need much practice."

Yang Xian had nearly emptied his entire store of knowledge, imparting in just two hours all the movements, sequences, force application, and skills to Bai Xian.

Bai Xian cupped her fists and said sincerely, "I am enlightened."

Yang Xian's spearwork, just as he claimed, had not a trace of ornamentation. Every move was measured, unruffled, and precise.

And that was precisely what Bai Xian sought.

Her iron pike was too heavy for fanciful changes; the simpler the technique, the more it suited her.

Besides, her spear was meant for monsters and demons. Flashy moves might be pleasing to the eye, but they were of little real use.

Returning to the pavilion, the ailing bodyguard lay in one corner, apparently fast asleep.

Bai Xian turned aside and retrieved compressed biscuits from her "little treasury."

"Try some of my rations."

Yang Xian accepted the biscuit without hesitation and took a bite, his eyes lighting up in surprise.

"Miss, you manage to make even rations taste delicious!"

After practicing spearwork, the two had clearly grown closer; Yang Xian was no longer as constrained as before. "If anyone could marry you, Miss, it would be a blessing earned over three lifetimes."

Bai Xian did not take offense; she laughed heartily.

"I'm afraid no one will have that good fortune."

Yang Xian could not grasp her meaning, but he chuckled along.

"Pity there's no wine, or we might drink a few cups together."

"Who says there's no—" Bai Xian was just about to pull out the beer she'd brought from her "little treasury," when a quick, rhythmic clatter of hooves sounded at the end of the path.

Yang Xian immediately rose, spear in hand, eyes fixed on the source of the sound.

"Be careful, miss; that's a warhorse."

With years of military experience, he could tell a war steed from a packhorse by sound alone.

And in this world, encountering a galloping warhorse in the wild almost always meant trouble.

Soon enough, a blood-sweat horse with flowing mane, sharply defined muscles, and a fiery red coat burst through the countryside fog.

Anyone would have praised it as a splendid beast.

But even this fine horse paled beside the rider on its back.

The horseman’s features were square and heroic, his build imposing, his face chiseled, with sword-like brows and star-bright eyes.

He wore a brocade jacket with gilded cloud patterns, a hollow wolf-patterned coronet on his head, reins in one hand, a long saber at his waist, and a great bow hanging by his knee.

At the sight of him, Yang Xian’s expression changed drastically.

"The Demon Suppression Tower—an Exorcist!"

Bai Xian asked, "What is an Exorcist?"

To counter the rampant evils plaguing the land, the court had established the Suppression Division, centered around extraordinary individuals, to maintain order and deal with monsters and demons.

The division had two branches.

The first was the Commandant Camp, which usually operated as a unit, suppressing demon lairs or major evils with formations and military force.

The second was the Demon Suppression Tower, whose members excelled at solo combat, each individually powerful, roaming the land to slay any demon or fiend they encountered.

Encountering an Exorcist here almost certainly meant evil spirits lurked somewhere nearby.

And the direction the Exorcist was headed? Toward Jiangzhu County!

From afar, the Exorcist too saw the fire in the pavilion, but after a mere glance spurred his horse onwards, galloping past.

Yang Xian secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

Just as he was about to speak, a neighing of a warhorse sounded ahead.

The Exorcist from the Demon Suppression Tower had returned, halting his horse before the pavilion.

The warhorse stood firm as the rider looked down from above.

Yang Xian set aside his spear, hurried forward, and greeted him respectfully with cupped fists.

"Yang Xian of Shunfeng Escort Agency, Jiangzhu County, pays his respects to the lord of the Suppression Division. May I ask why you have returned?"

The burly man atop the steed gave no reply. His tiger-like gaze swept over Yang Xian, lingered briefly on Bai Xian, then finally fixed upon the sleeping bodyguard in the corner of the pavilion.

The Exorcist dismounted in a single, fluid motion, landing as lightly as a swallow.

He stood before Yang Xian like a wall, looming over him by a full head.

"Step aside."

His deep voice carried an unspoken authority.

Instinctively, Yang Xian stepped back, clearing the way.

With long strides, the Exorcist entered the pavilion, drew a dagger from his belt, and raised it to strike the sleeping bodyguard.

But at that instant, Yang Xian’s eyes, lowered in seeming submission, suddenly flashed.

He vaulted into the pavilion, hooked his spear from the ground with his toe, and gripped the shaft with his right hand, making it tremble.

In a flash, the spear’s white wax shaft traced a constellation of dazzling stars, targeting all the vital points on the Exorcist’s body.

But the Exorcist, his back to Yang Xian, seemed ready.

The moment Yang Xian attacked, the Exorcist twisted away, causing the deadly flurry to strike only empty air.

Yang Xian’s face changed; he realized he was facing a true master.

Without hesitation, he withdrew, attacked, lifted, crashed—move after move, pressing the Exorcist back step by step.

Yet no matter how ferociously he pressed the attack, the Exorcist remained unhurried, his expression untroubled.

"Do you know the penalty for attacking the Suppression Division?"

At last, the Exorcist seemed mildly bored, and with a light movement of his feet, opened the distance between them.

Yang Xian ceased his pursuit, glaring in breathless anger.

He shot back, "Why did you suddenly attack him?"

"The Suppression Division acts by imperial decree, to eradicate evil. If I acted, it is because he is a fiend."

"He is a fiend..." Yang Xian’s gaze lingered on his colleague, as if making a decision. "Do you have any proof?"

"My word is proof enough."

"That is not proof I can accept."

The Exorcist’s face darkened.

"That is not your choice to make!"

This time, the Exorcist no longer stayed on the defensive.

He unfastened the saber at his waist, scabbard and all.

Only then did they see—the saber he wore was far larger than expected, nearly as long as an ordinary two-handed greatsword.

It was almost a match for the white wax spear in Yang Xian’s hands.

No one saw how the Exorcist moved, but in a blur, the saber whipped toward Yang Xian’s face.

The move was so swift and fierce that, if it landed, not a tooth would remain in Yang Xian’s mouth.

Startled, Yang Xian bit the tip of his tongue in that split second, his spear darting like a serpent at the Exorcist’s sword hand—striking after, but arriving first.

He expected this would force the Exorcist to withdraw his saber, but to his shock, the blow did not slow—the target was still Yang Xian.

At the instant the spearhead touched the Exorcist’s right hand, the arm shifted as if illusory, moving aside by half a foot.

"Ah!"

Yang Xian cried out, unable to dodge in time.

The scabbard was about to strike his face.

But at that very moment, an iron pike thrust past his ear, unerringly tapping the center of the scabbard.