Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 120336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Doing my best to remain up, I spun and slashed my blade at his exposed side.
He twisted, but not fast enough.
Hell yes!
Soaring Precious bit into his shoulder.
He roared in pain but instead of him stumbling back, my father hissed, clutching his shoulder where I’d struck him and his expression wasn’t one of defeat.
It was cunning.
What?
Then, with a move so fast I barely had time to react, he grabbed a thick branch above him and swung it at me.
“Shit!” I tried to duck but the uneven footing of the branch beneath me made it impossible to maneuver quickly.
No. No.
The branch slammed into my side with brutal force, knocking me backward.
Leaves and blossoms slapped me in the face.
Sharp pain erupted in my ribs, stealing my breath.
Soaring Precious was still in my hand but the force of the impact made my own blade twist against me. The edge bit into my side, a shallow but stinging cut that sent a warm rush of blood soaking my pants.
Oh God. No.
I gritted my teeth.
Before I could recover fully, he was moving with a burst of speed that defied logic, leaping down from his branch and landing on mine.
Ignore the pain and don’t die.
I swung Soaring Precious up, aiming for his throat, but he was already too close. Next, his hand shot out and I felt a sharp prick against my forearm.
“What the—”
He jumped away before I could retaliate.
I glanced down at my arm and saw it—a thin needle embedded in my skin, its tip stained with something black and viscous.
A sick, cold dread coiled in my stomach as the realization hit me.
Poison.
I yanked the needle out and slung it to the ground but it was too late.
The effects hit me instantly.
My father stood a few feet away on another branch, grinning like the devil himself.
My vision blurred, the edges of the world smearing together like an oil painting left in the rain.
I blinked. “You cheated.”
“This battle isn’t about honor, son. It’s about who wins.”
My heartbeat thundered in my chest.
Erratic and wild.
“No, Father. . .this is about. . .you. . . running from death.”
The branch beneath my feet swayed dangerously or maybe that was just my body betraying me.
My lungs struggled to draw breath as a hot, stinging sensation spread from the puncture site, coursing through my veins like liquid fire.
Focus.
Uncle Song’s teachings surfaced in my mind like a lifeline.
“No poison is unbeatable. The body has its own defenses. Learn them. Use them.”
I dropped to my knees, clutching Soaring Precious in one hand as I used the other to move my fingers instinctively, seeking out the pressure points Uncle Song had drilled into me during those grueling, endless lessons.
The hollow beneath my jaw.
The ridge just below my collarbone.
The sensitive spot at the base of my spine.
I pressed hard, ignoring the stabbing pain that shot through my limbs as I fought against the creeping numbness overtaking my body.
“That’s right, son,” my father’s voice taunted from somewhere above, dripping with sadistic glee. “Expel the poison from your body. Let’s see if you’re strong enough.”
My heart hammered erratically.
The poison was everywhere now, burning through my veins like liquid fire but I forced myself to focus.
To breathe.
To push.
Find the rhythm. Work with your body, not against it.
My thumb found the hollow of my wrist, pressing hard against the tendons there.
A wave of nausea rolled through me and I gagged, my stomach heaving as the bitter taste of bile coated my tongue.
Then, thick black liquid spilled from my lips, splattering the bark beneath me.
“But” His voice was closer. “Can you expel the poison and not die?”
I couldn’t see him. My vision was still blurred, the world spinning around me like a cruel kaleidoscope.
But I could hear him.
The steady crunch of his boots against the bark and the faint rasp of his breathing.
He was coming for me.
I didn’t have time to recover. The poison wasn’t out yet. My limbs still felt heavy, my chest tight but I couldn’t let him finish this here.
Not like this.
I lashed out blindly with my foot, kicking hard in the direction of his approach.
Thank God, my boot connected with something solid, and he grunted, the sound satisfying in its briefness.
I got him!
The force of the kick sent him stumbling back, the rustle of branches and a muffled curse confirming he’d lost his footing.
Further off, he yelled. “You’re only prolonging the inevitable, son!”
I ignored him and moved my hands with renewed urgency, pressing into the spot beneath my ribs, where the diaphragm met the solar plexus.
Oh God. What sort of poison is this?
The pressure sent a sharp, shooting pain through my chest but I gritted my teeth and kept going.
Another wave of black liquid surged up my throat, spilling from my mouth in thick choking bursts.
I gasped for air, the taste of the poison still clinging to my tongue.