In the corner sat a female swordsman. On the table before her lay two swords, one long and one short—the long one about three feet, with a pitch-black scabbard and an ink-green hilt; the short one about half a meter, with a white scabbard and a black hilt.
Although Xu Fu was watching the sword duel outside the door, the corner of his eye was always observing the female swordsman sitting in the corner. Her face was expressionless, coldly beautiful, and she looked quite young—not yet twenty. She held a wine cup, drinking alone, dressed in a gray-white long robe, with a tattered bamboo hat slung over her back.
The sword duel outside attracted a crowd of onlookers. Watching those sword fights, Xu Fu immediately felt repulsed. He needed to hire a skilled swordsman. After being beaten by beggars and previously subdued by Wu Zheng, he understood one thing: though clever, he lacked martial skills. If he encountered danger again, he might die.
Xu Fu didn’t know why, but he felt uneasy. He quietly watched that swordsman—her eyes, those piercing, fierce eyes. Meanwhile, the duels outside continued.
None of the swordsmen outside impressed Xu Fu. When the duel ended, one of them wiped the sweat from his forehead and stepped forward.
“Young sir, I have won. Does that mean...?”
“What about her?”
Xu Fu pointed to the female swordsman drinking in the corner. This immediately drew a burst of laughter. Xu Fu walked over step by step and, with a slap, tossed his money pouch onto the table.
“Isn’t this place for hiring?”
“Can you afford it?”