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Long Sky froze for half a second, then laughed.
The laugh was pure, undisguised contempt.
"You? Against me?"
Raphael didn't answer.
One of the seven Qin experts—the old man in gray robes—stepped forward and gave Raphael a slow once-over. His expression twisted into something ugly.
"Northern Di savage," he spat. "Dressed like a peasant but with that face? Definitely a Hun."
A middle-aged expert beside him nodded. "Look at the build, the features—straight out of the Xiongnu tribes."
A younger one sneered. "The seven kingdoms may fight each other, but we all agree on one thing when it comes to barbarians—kill on sight."
Barbarian? Hun?
They were talking about him?
Raphael's brows pulled together. He glanced down at himself—six-foot-two, sharp Western features, nothing like the Han men around him. Yeah, he stood out.
"I'm—"
"No need to explain," Long Sky cut him off. His silver spear flicked up, tip aimed straight at Raphael's throat. "Since you walked into this, we'll clean you up too."
Ten thousand fuck-you horses galloped through Raphael's head.
Before he could say another word, the seven experts spread out, forming a loose encirclement. Long Sky stayed on the outside, spear held horizontal, eyes cold as steel.
"Attack."
The gray-robed elder gave the order. Seven swords thrust forward at once.
Raphael drew a slow breath.
The Force surged.
Force Speed kicked in. His body became a blur, slipping straight through the gaps between the blades like they were standing still.
The seven men only saw a flicker—then their target was gone.
"What—?"
The gray elder never finished the sentence. Raphael appeared behind him and slapped a palm against the back of his neck. The old man grunted once and crumpled.
Force Leap!
Raphael's toes pushed off the ground. He shot upward, clearing three sweeping swords in one bound and landing outside the circle.
The six remaining experts stared, mouths open.
"What kind of qinggong is that?"
"I've never seen footwork like it!"
Raphael didn't give them time to recover.
Force Push/Pull!
Invisible power exploded from his palm. The two closest men felt a mountain slam into them. They flew backward, smashing into a rockery and coughing up blood.
The last four went pale. Their formation broke.
Raphael moved again.
Force Speed made him almost invisible. Every sword stroke missed by inches. Blades whistled past his ears, never touching cloth.
"Damn it!"
One expert roared and swung a wide horizontal cut, trying to force him back.
Raphael stepped into it.
Force Shield bloomed in front of him—an invisible wall. The sword slammed into it with a dull thud. The blade vibrated violently; the man's tiger-mouth split open and the sword flew from his grip.
Raphael followed with a kick to the chest. The expert shot backward, flipping the Go table. Black and white stones scattered everywhere.
The final three looked at each other, then charged together.
Raphael's mouth curved.
Force Pull this time—not push.
The three men felt invisible hands yank their sword wrists outward. All three blades stabbed empty air.
Raphael closed the distance in a blink. Three punches, two kicks—they dropped like sacks of rice.
Less than sixty seconds.
The Seven Experts of Qin Palace: done.
The courtyard fell deathly quiet.
Long Sky stood a few paces away. The sneer on his face was gone, replaced by dead-serious focus.
"Who the hell are you?"
Raphael turned to face him.
"Someone who wants one match with you."
Long Sky was quiet for a beat. Then he smiled—this time it was the grin of a predator who'd just found worthy prey.
"Good. Let's do it."
The silver spear shook. The tip sliced the air with a sharp whistle.
Long Sky moved.
His speed was terrifying. The spear became a silver streak aimed straight for Raphael's throat.
Raphael's pupils shrank.
Force Sense maxed out.
Everything slowed. Long Sky's footwork, the spear's trajectory, even the flow of air—crystal clear in his mind.
At the last instant Raphael twisted aside. His hand shot out to grab the shaft.
Long Sky flicked his wrist. The spear spun, tip carving an arc toward Raphael's waist.
Force Leap—Raphael jumped back, snatched a fallen sword from the ground (one of the seven experts'), and his entire aura changed.
With Force Speed pouring into his limbs, his blade turned into a storm of shadows, raining down on Long Sky.
Long Sky's spear danced like a dragon. Silver afterimages clashed with steel in a blizzard of clang-clang-clang.
Raphael grew more and more shocked the longer they fought.
Long Sky's spear technique was vicious—fast, heavy, angles unpredictable, changes endless. In any wuxia world, this guy would be a grandmaster.
But Raphael had advantages Long Sky couldn't dream of.
Force Sense let him read every move before it happened.
Long Sky's spear had barely left its line when Raphael already knew exactly where it would strike next.
Long Sky started to feel it too.
His style relied on unpredictability. Yet this young man seemed to see every change coming, blocking and dodging like he'd read the script.
"You…"
Long Sky frowned. "You can read my spear?"
Raphael didn't answer.
His sword flicked straight for Long Sky's center line.
Long Sky sidestepped and swept the spear horizontally, forcing Raphael back.
He took a deep breath. The spear style changed completely—no more tricky angles. Now it was raw power: big, heavy, crushing strikes.
Each thrust carried the force of a thousand pounds. The air itself howled.
If technique doesn't work, I'll smash you with strength!
Long Sky trusted his raw power completely.
The spear crashed down. Raphael raised his sword to block.
CLANG!
The impact shook the blade. Raphael's palm stung.
But he didn't budge.
Force Shield absorbed most of the shock.
Long Sky's brow furrowed.
Another crushing blow.
CLANG!
Raphael still stood firm.
Long Sky's face darkened. He poured everything into the next dozen strikes—each heavier than the last.
Raphael took every single one.
Force Shield plus Force Push/Pull let him not only neutralize the power but actually feed it back, making Long Sky feel like he was hammering empty air.
Long Sky's breathing turned ragged.
His strength was monstrous, but the explosive output burned him out fast.
After dozens of full-power strikes his arms were starting to tremble.
Raphael hadn't even broken a sweat.
Force Heal kept his stamina topped off. This was nothing.
Long Sky finally realized the truth.
This kid could read his every move, matched his strength, and recovered like a monster.
If they kept going, he was finished.
He sucked in a breath and pulled his spear back, ready to switch tactics.
That was when a black shadow exploded from behind a pillar—straight at Raphael.
Nameless!
Raphael had been waiting for it.
Force Sense had never dropped. The hidden assassin never had a chance.
His sword spun to meet the incoming strike.
CLANG!
Sparks flew.
Nameless missed, flashed three meters away, black robes fluttering. Cold eyes, colder face.
Long Sky glanced at him, frowning.
"Nameless, you…"
"Together," the man (Jet Li's Nameless) cut in, voice icy. "This one's no ordinary fighter. One-on-one won't work."
Long Sky was silent for a second, then nodded.
Silver spear leveled again.
Nameless held his sword horizontally, body moving like a ghost.
One on the left, one on the right—pincer attack.
Raphael's eyes narrowed.
Force Speed to the absolute limit.
He became lightning between them.
Long Sky's spear thrust—he sidestepped. Nameless's sword swept—he leaped, hanging in the air with Force Leap and changing direction mid-air.
Force Push/Pull yanked their attacks off-line.
Force Shield tanked anything that got close.
The three of them blurred together. Spear shadows and sword light wove a deadly net.
Long Sky: huge, crushing power.
Nameless: tricky, unpredictable angles.
Their teamwork was flawless—attack and defense, hard and soft, almost impossible to break.
But Raphael held.
Force Sense let him read both men's every intention before they moved.
One against two, and he still wasn't losing.
The longer they fought, the uglier Long Sky and Nameless's faces became.
No matter how they coordinated, no matter how they changed tactics, they couldn't touch him.
It was like the kid could see inside their heads.
Worse—he never got tired.
Both assassins were breathing hard now. Raphael still looked like he was out for a casual stroll.
"This is impossible!" Long Sky growled. "Who the hell are you?"
Raphael didn't answer.
His sword flicked, forcing Nameless back while Force Push sent Long Sky stumbling three steps.
The three of them separated for a breath.
Raphael stood with his sword lowered, gaze moving between them.
"Still want to keep going?"
Long Sky and Nameless exchanged a look. Both saw the same grim realization in the other's eyes.
They might not win.
But surrender?
They were assassins. Warriors. Pride mattered.
Long Sky took a deep breath and leveled his spear again.
"One more round!"
Nameless didn't speak—but his body was already moving.
Raphael sighed.
Looks like I can't hold back anymore.
He dropped into a low stance, sword horizontal. Force Shield flared to maximum.
"Wait!"
A slightly accented male voice rang out from the courtyard gate.
All three turned at once and spoke in the same shocked breath—
"Broken Sword?!"
Raphael was the most stunned of all.
If I remember the movie right, Broken Sword should still be back in Zhao right now. How the hell did he just teleport to Qin territory?
Broken Sword ignored the surprise on Raphael's face. He walked straight into the middle of the standoff, eyes half-lidded like he'd just woken up from a nap.
"Gentlemen, the great cause isn't finished yet. Why waste your strength here? One slip and you hand the advantage straight to the Qin dogs."