Zhou Kang's shout echoed along the mountain road.
"Who is it?"
And another arrow answered him.
It came faster than the first, dropping from above at a sharper angle. Zhou Kang twisted his grip and struck it aside again, the impact numbing his forearm as the arrow shattered against the stone wall beside him.
Chen Ming followed the line it had taken.
His gaze tracked upward, past the bend in the road, to where the rocks rose unevenly and the slope narrowed.
An archer. This makes it troublesome.
His eyes sharpened. A decision settled without hesitation.
Chen Ming swung down from his horse and stepped back once. He turned his head just enough to speak.
"I'll take care of him."
Wu Zhen's eyes widened. "Wait—"
Chen Ming was already moving.
He broke away from the line of wagons and slipped toward the rock face, his steps light as he cut across the edge of the road and disappeared into the uneven terrain before another word could be spoken.
At the front, movement surged.
Five, then six figures stepped out onto the road, blocking the path ahead. Their weapons were drawn—sabers, spears, a heavy axe—and their faces were hidden behind rough cloth masks. They spread out instinctively, claiming space, boots scraping against stone as they took position.
Zhou Kang cursed under his breath.
"Retreat—" he shouted.
But the order came too late.
Behind them, the sound of feet striking stone rose sharply.
Gu Han turned.
Five more figures had emerged from the rear, dressed in the same manner, weapons held ready, blocking the narrow road just as effectively as the front.
The caravan was pinned.
Gu Han's expression hardened. He raised one hand slightly, signaling those near him to hold position.
"What do you need, gentlemen," he called out, his voice steady, "to block our path like this?"
At the front, one of the masked men stepped forward half a pace. Zhou Kang shifted his stance, spear angled toward the man's chest.
"Aren't you afraid," Zhou Kang said, his tone cold, "of robbing us in broad daylight, this close to Yunhe City?"
The mountain road was not the Blackwood Forest.
That forest had long been a den of bandits and demonic beasts alike. It lay outside meaningful control, and unless a powerful force was willing to expend time and blood to cleanse it, no one interfered.
The mountain range was different.
It fell directly under the jurisdiction of Yunhe City. To rob travelers here was not merely theft, it was a challenge, open and unmistakable, to the authority of the city itself.
The masked figures did not retreat.
Tian Qiao stepped down from his carriage.
The ease he had carried earlier was gone. His back was straight now, his eyes sharp as they moved across the masked figures blocking the road. He clasped his hands together and spoke, his voice steady.
"Brothers," he said, "if it's money you want, this old merchant can spare some. Let us pass safely, and we'll consider it settled."
No one moved.
The man at the front tilted his head slightly, as if amused.
"Don't act smart," he said. "Did you really think changing the route to the mountains would let you slip away from us? Hand it over."
Zhou Kang's eyes cut sideways at once. Li Sen did the same.
"What is he talking about, Brother Tian?" Zhou Kang asked.
There was no warmth in his voice now.
Tian Qiao did not look at him. His gaze remained fixed on the masked man. "I don't know what you mean," he said. "You've mistaken us for someone else. We're just ordinary merchants heading to Yunhe City."
The masked man took a step forward.
"Enough talking," he said. "Kill them. Take it."
The mountain road erupted.
Steel rang out as weapons came free on both sides. Zhou Kang surged forward, spear thrusting as he met the leader head-on, the two colliding in a burst of force that sent loose gravel skittering down the slope.
"Tian Qiao," Zhou Kang growled as they exchanged blows, "you owe us an explanation."
The reply, if there was one, was lost in the clash of metal.
Along the road, the fight spread.
Wu Zhen met two attackers at once, saber flashing as he forced them back toward the rock wall. Li Sen darted in and out of the narrow space, blade striking low and fast. Qiao Wen braced himself near the wagons, spear sweeping in tight arcs to keep the masked men from reaching the drivers.
Han Yu moved with practiced precision, his blade cutting cleanly as he shifted between targets, guarding the flanks where the road narrowed dangerously.
The Tian Merchant Company's guards fought alongside them, shouts cutting through the din as they tried to hold formation in the cramped space.
Blades rang. Bodies struck stone. Blood darkened the ground where the slope dipped unevenly.
Gu Han parried a heavy strike and drove his opponent back a step. His eyes flicked across the battlefield—too many steady stances, too much force behind each blow.
His jaw tightened.
"They're all Blood Refinement realms," he muttered.
The realization settled heavily as the fight raged on, the mountain road echoing with the sound of steel and the scrape of boots against stone.
The balance shifted.
The ordinary guards were the first to fall.
One went down with a shout cut short, struck through the throat before he could raise his blade. Another stumbled back against the edge of the road, footing lost as a spear punched into his side and drove him over the slope. Bodies hit stone and did not rise again.
The narrow mountain path filled with the sound of heavy breathing and steel.
Tian Qiao's expression tightened. He retreated step by step, keeping the carriage with the horizontal strip curtains close behind him. His eyes flicked toward it more than once as he positioned himself at its side, placing his body between the fighting and the wagon.
Nearby, Wu Zhen was still standing.
Blood streaked his sleeve and darkened the front of his robes. His saber moved more slowly now, shoulders rising and falling with each breath as he held off two attackers pressing him from either side.
"Tch," one of them said from behind the mask, voice rough with amusement. "You should've just run away like the Body Reinforcement kid did. At least then you wouldn't die without knowing why."
Wu Zhen forced them back with a wide strike, boots scraping against stone as he regained a step of space.
"Trying to distract me?" he said, teeth clenched.
Another scream rang out behind him. Then another.
Wu Zhen's jaw tightened further. He drew in a breath—and frowned.
The world tilted.
His vision blurred at the edges, the figures in front of him doubling and smearing together. He shook his head hard and stepped back, boots dragging as his balance wavered.
Pain bloomed behind his eyes, sharp and sudden, like something driving inward.
He hissed and pressed a hand briefly to his temple before forcing his saber up again.
"What did you do?" he demanded, voice rough.
The answer did not come.
The blurring returned, heavier this time. His limbs felt thick, sluggish, as though weight had been added to them without warning. The ground beneath him seemed to sway.
Wu Zhen turned instinctively, clutching his head as his knees buckled.
Around him, the fight was coming apart.
Guards staggered mid-strike. Iron Fang members faltered, weapons dipping as they struggled to stay upright. Even the masked men hesitated, some swaying where they stood, others dropping to one knee with muffled curses.
Wu Zhen's vision swam.
"What's… happening…" he muttered.
His legs gave out.
He hit the stone hard, the world spinning as darkness crept in from the edges of his sight, the sounds of battle blurring into a dull, distant roar.
Zhou Kang staggered as the force behind the next clash faltered.
The man facing him swayed, his footing breaking for a brief instant before he caught himself against the rock wall. His breathing turned uneven, the edge in his movements dulled.
"It's—" the man rasped, voice breaking as he forced the words out. "It's poison."
He raised his voice, the shout tearing from his throat. "Cover your ears. It's going through your ears."
The warning came too late.
The sound had already spread along the narrow road, threading through stone and air alike. Those still standing faltered as one. Weapons slipped from hands. Knees struck rock.
The Tian Merchant Company's guards collapsed where they stood, mouths open, eyes unfocused. Members of the Iron Fang Gang followed moments later, bodies striking the ground in heavy succession. None of them had their mouths or noses covered. They had no time to react.
Even the masked men were not spared.
Several dropped outright, limbs going slack as they hit the stone without resistance. Only four or five, remained standing, barely. Cloth still covered their faces, but they leaned heavily against rock and wagon alike, hands pressed to their heads, breath coming harsh and uneven as they struggled to remain conscious.
The leader's vision swam.
The road tilted. The sky slid sideways between the rock walls. He tried to raise his weapon and failed, his arm refusing to answer.
A figure stepped into his narrowing field of view.
A cold gaze met his, steady and unblurred.
"I planned to give you an easy death," the voice said.
A flash of steel crossed his narrowing vision, bright and sudden.
His sight began to tilt, the edge of the road sliding downward while the stone below rose to meet it, the motion steady and unhurried.
The image broke apart quietly, as the darkness filled his vision.