As dusk fell, the last slanting rays of sunlight washed over Houjia Village, turning its broken walls and collapsed roofs a dull, blood-tinged gold.
There were barely a dozen houses left standing.
Each one leaned at a crooked angle, like old men with bent spines, their long shadows stretching across the dirt-packed ground and tangling together in ugly shapes.
In the open space at the heart of the village, a group of women and children were bound tightly with straw rope.
There were no men.
The men of Houjia Village were already dead.
Ge Goufei stood nearby, arms crossed, watching over the captives with a cold, bored expression. Around him loitered several dozen bandits, blades loose in their hands, eyes sharp and restless. This group was his responsibility—the "bait."
Outside the village, hidden among forests, ravines, trenches, and rocky outcrops, Zijing Liang's main force lay in ambush.
Twenty thousand men.
The net had already been drawn tight.
All that remained was to wait.
To wait for Zhang Fengyi.
Yet none of them noticed a tiny figure—no larger than a human palm—quietly wriggle out of a shallow ditch beyond the village perimeter as the light dimmed.
It crept low through the grass, slipped between ferns, and darted from shadow to shadow.
Bare feet padded soundlessly across packed earth.
The little figure passed behind the boots of several bandits, so close it could have reached out and touched them, and yet no one noticed a thing.
Moments later, it blended seamlessly into the huddled group of women and children.
The captives were gaunt, bruised, and exhausted. Their heads hung low; their eyes were dull and unfocused. Hunger and terror had worn them down to the point where even a miracle could slip past unnoticed.
This tiny infiltrator was none other than cc-01, the Reconnaissance Dao Xuan Tianzun.
He scanned the group quickly, then chose a woman who looked slightly sturdier than the rest—someone whose eyes still held a faint spark of awareness. Reaching out, he gently tugged at the hem of her tattered sleeve.
The woman flinched.
She turned her head—and nearly screamed.
A tiny person, no bigger than her hand, stood beside her.
Before panic could take hold, the little figure raised a finger to its lips.
"Shh."
Her heart hammered violently, but she swallowed the cry in her throat. In a place like this, fear had already taken everything. If even the strangest hope appeared, it had to be grasped.
She bent forward slightly, pressing her ear closer.
The tiny figure whispered, his voice barely louder than the wind:
"Help is coming. I'll cut your ropes first. Don't move. Don't make a sound. Keep pretending you're bound. When the time comes, I'll give the signal. Then you fight. Do you understand?"
The woman nodded again and again, tears welling in her eyes.
A flash of steel.
The straw rope binding her wrists fell away.
Her hands were free.
She didn't dare move them.
Dozens of bandits were still only a few steps away.
She let herself slump sideways, leaning weakly against another woman, and whispered as softly as breath:
"Someone is coming… Don't make a sound… I'll help you next…"
Outside the village, a horse thundered to a halt beside Zijing Liang.
"Report, Chief!" the rider shouted. "Zhang Fengyi's White Pole Soldiers have arrived—but she hasn't advanced. She stopped two or three li away, climbed a hill, and is observing from there."
Zijing Liang nodded calmly. "As expected. If she were the type to charge blindly into a trap, she wouldn't still be alive."
Qing Beilang stepped forward, frowning. "Chief, if the White Pole Soldiers spot our ambush, they might refuse to enter the village at all."
"That depends," Zijing Liang replied coldly, "on whether they truly live up to their reputation."
He smiled faintly.
"Will they sacrifice themselves to save these women and children? Or will they retreat, choosing survival over righteousness?"
He was about to continue his smug lecture on human nature when another bandit came sprinting back, face pale.
"Chief! There's someone on the main road—a swordsman—heading straight for Houjia Village!"
Zijing Liang's eyes narrowed. "A swordsman?"
"Yes… but…" The man hesitated, clearly struggling for words. "He's young. Wearing a conical hat. Longsword at his waist. He just… he looks strange. I don't know how to describe it."
Zijing Liang cursed under his breath. "Damn it."
"What are your orders, Chief?"
Zijing Liang waved his hand dismissively. "Ignore him. Ge Goufei has men inside the village. What can one swordsman do? Tell everyone to stay hidden. No one moves. We wait for Zhang Fengyi."
On the hillside, two li away, Zhang Fengyi pressed her eye to the monocular telescope.
She watched the lone figure walking toward the village.
Her fingers tightened around the tube.
"Please…" she whispered, almost unconsciously. "Stay alive."
Li Daoxuan strolled into Houjia Village as though he were on an afternoon walk.
He raised his voice cheerfully.
"Hello? Anyone home? This humble swordsman is a bit thirsty—could I trouble someone for some water?"
Then he saw them.
Women and children bound in the open.
Bandits standing guard.
Blades gleaming.
"Oh?" Li Daoxuan widened his eyes in exaggerated shock. "What is this? You villains—what do you intend to do to these innocent people?"
Ge Goufei scowled and waved him away. "Get lost. This doesn't concern you."
"How can it not concern me?" Li Daoxuan snapped. "Under heaven's light, in broad daylight, you dare commit such crimes? Release them at once! Otherwise, this swordsman will draw his blade and uphold justice today!"
The bandits nearly burst out laughing.
Where did this idiot crawl out from?
There were more than fifty men in plain sight, with dozens more hidden inside the surrounding houses—over a hundred in total.
Enough to chop this so-called swordsman into minced meat.
Ge Goufei suppressed his irritation and barked, "I said scram! We're handling serious business. I don't want trouble—or you'd already be dead."
"Serious business?" Li Daoxuan snorted. "I see nothing but villainy!"
He stepped forward.
On the distant hill, Zhang Fengyi's breath caught.
Ge Goufei's patience snapped. "Since you refuse a toast, you'll drink the penalty. Kill him."
Two bandits strode forward, blades drawn.
Li Daoxuan's hand rested casually on his sword hilt.
The two exchanged wary glances.
This guy doesn't look right, they thought.
They slowed, advancing cautiously, step by step.
Then—
Li Daoxuan's hand vanished behind his back.
A short, black object appeared in his grip.
Bang!
The sharp crack echoed through the village.
One bandit flew backward and collapsed without a sound.
Dead.
The second bandit leapt sideways in sheer terror.
Ge Goufei froze.
So did every bandit present.
A hundred minds went blank at the same time.
…What the hell is this?