The Road to Cat Loi City

Before dawn, two streaks of sword light departed from Hoa Van.

Hao Nhien flew in front, with Luu Thanh following more than ten zhang behind. Luu Thanh had completed only the most basic ownership refinement of his new flying sword the night before. It was still far too early for him to control it flexibly in battle, but straight-line sword flight was no longer a problem.

Hao Nhien did not fly at full speed, keeping himself at roughly seventy percent of what he could manage. The journey to Cat Loi City would take nearly two days. If they forced their flying swords to the limit from the very beginning, they might arrive several hours earlier, but the resulting spiritual power consumption would leave them at a disadvantage the moment they entered enemy territory.

Spirit Wings were even less suitable for the journey.

Hao Nhien was saving them for situations that truly required explosive speed, pursuit, sudden changes of direction, or escape from danger. For sustained long-distance travel, a flying sword was far more efficient.

The early morning wind swept past them while endless bands of sand stretched beneath their feet toward the horizon.

Hao Nhien occasionally glanced back to check on Luu Thanh. His posture had been somewhat stiff at first, but after more than two hours, he had gradually grown accustomed to standing on a sword hurtling through the air.

Hao Nhien sent a voice transmission.

“Do not force the flying sword too hard. You only established ownership last night. For now, focus on keeping it stable.”

Luu Thanh replied:

“What if we have to fight?”

“Get off the sword.”

Hao Nhien’s answer was immediate.

“For now, this sword is for traveling. I did not give it to you so you could spend one night refining it and start killing people while flying the next morning.”

Luu Thanh laughed.

“This subordinate thought Clan Chief planned to teach me on the way.”

“I would rather not lose one of my commanders because he drove himself headfirst into the sand.”

Luu Thanh said nothing more, though his stance on the flying sword visibly relaxed.

After the first four hours, Hao Nhien deliberately slowed down.

He did not descend. Instead, he simply reduced the amount of spiritual power feeding the flying sword, giving both of them time to regulate their breathing.

Before leaving, Hao Nhien had taken a high-grade Profound Yang Pill. Its medicinal power helped stabilize his blood and qi, eased some of the physical fatigue caused by prolonged sword flight, and kept his body in better condition, but it did not directly replenish the spiritual power in his dantian.

That expenditure still had to be restored normally.

Hao Nhien took out two spirit stones and began absorbing their spiritual energy with one hand while maintaining a steady stream of power into the flying sword beneath his feet.

After about fifteen minutes, once his aura had stabilized somewhat, he increased his speed again.

Luu Thanh did the same.

Throughout the morning, neither man spoke unless there was something genuinely necessary to discuss regarding direction, terrain, or speed.

Every passing hour could change the situation at Cat Loi City.

Neither wanted to waste time.

Near midday, the terrain below began to rise into taller sand dunes. Hot currents climbed from the ground and collided with the colder air above, twisting into irregular streams.

Luu Thanh’s flying sword tilted slightly.

By instinct, he immediately used spiritual power to pull it back, but the correction was too rigid and caused his entire body to shake.

Hao Nhien noticed and transmitted:

“Do not resist the entire force. Relax your knees, let your body move with part of the current first, then bring the flying sword back into line.”

Luu Thanh followed his instructions.

A diagonal gust swept toward him. This time, instead of forcing his body directly against it, he lowered one shoulder slightly and loosened his knees.

The flying sword still trembled, but his body was no longer violently jerked with it.

Hao Nhien nodded.

“That is it.”

Luu Thanh looked ahead.

“Is this similar to how Clan Chief trained in Black Wind Valley?”

“In part. But what I want you to remember is not how to control the wind.”

Hao Nhien paused briefly before continuing.

“In certain situations, the wind can warn you that something has changed before your eyes or spiritual sense can confirm it.”

Luu Thanh tilted his head slightly.

Hao Nhien explained:

“If an otherwise stable current is suddenly cut, deflected, or divided, something may have appeared ahead—a person, a spirit beast, or an object large enough to disturb it. But it is only another sign to consider, not a detection technique. Terrain, shifting sand, and countless other things can alter the airflow as well.”

Hao Nhien casually took out a small stone.

While Luu Thanh was looking ahead, he flicked it diagonally toward his side.

The stone passed close to Luu Thanh’s right shoulder. He only leaned away when it was already very near, clearly reacting half a beat too late.

Hao Nhien asked:

“Did you notice anything before it reached you?”

Luu Thanh thought for a moment.

“Not clearly. Only when it came close did I feel something different in the air beside my shoulder.”

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Hao Nhien nodded.

“That is enough. Just remember that anything passing through an air current leaves some kind of disturbance. Turning that awareness into a combat reflex takes a long time.”

“If you understand the principle, then besides your eyes and spiritual sense, the environment around you can sometimes give you one more warning.”

Luu Thanh nodded.

“Understood.”

Hao Nhien turned his attention forward again.

He had no intention of turning a few words of instruction into an entirely new ability for Luu Thanh. His own sensitivity to changes in the wind was something he had refined over a long period of time, from his earliest cultivation of wind-aligned power to his training in Black Wind Valley.

For Luu Thanh, simply understanding the principle was enough for now.

Near noon, the communication jade token at Hao Nhien’s waist trembled.

He immediately slowed down, and Luu Thanh descended slightly with him.

A line of text appeared.

A military report from Cat Loi City.

Two western observation posts had lost contact. The route to Cat Nguyet Lake had been completely cut off, but the enemy had still not launched a full assault.

Hao Nhien finished reading without any visible change in expression, though he increased the speed of his flying sword slightly afterward.

Luu Thanh asked:

“What happened?”

Hao Nhien relayed the contents.

Luu Thanh frowned.

Hao Nhien looked ahead.

“If they only wanted to seize the city, they could already have tested its defenses. Instead, they are cutting observation posts, water routes, and access roads while still refusing to attack. That means they are waiting for something.”

“It could be a person, an object, or even a reaction from Cat Loi’s allies.”

Hao Nhien put away the jade token.

“We do not draw conclusions until we see it ourselves.”

The two continued northwest.

By afternoon, signs of human habitation below had grown increasingly sparse.

Two small oases along the route were unnaturally quiet. There was no cooking smoke, no sound of draft beasts, and no one coming out to draw water. Only several shelters remained, tilted by the wind above the sand.

Luu Thanh looked down.

“They left.”

“Probably several days ago.”

Hao Nhien did not descend to investigate, but he committed the change to memory.

The effects of the encirclement were clearly spreading beyond Cat Loi City itself.

After traveling farther, they saw more than twenty Sa Ho running below.

The pack was not hunting. It was fleeing eastward in a disorganized formation, and several of the beasts repeatedly glanced behind them.

Hao Nhien lowered his altitude to observe.

There was no sign of a powerful spirit beast pursuing them.

More than ten miles later, he spotted a trail left by an adult Fire Sand Tiger stretching from west to east. The distance between each paw print was unusually large, while the impressions were deep, showing that the beast had been running at extreme speed.

Hao Nhien slowed down.

Two different species had abandoned their territories and fled in the same direction, yet there was no aura from any powerful great beast in the west that would explain such a reaction.

Another possibility became increasingly likely.

There were many people ahead.

Enough that even the local spirit beasts no longer wanted to remain nearby.

Hao Nhien transmitted:

“From here onward, suppress the sword light.”

Luu Thanh immediately understood.

Both men drew the glow of their flying swords tightly against the artifacts themselves and reduced their speed further to avoid leaving an obvious trail across the sky.

During the first night, they landed only once.

They lit no fire and raised no tent.

The two chose a sheltered rock fissure, regulated their breathing for roughly an hour, ate dry rations, checked the map again, and resumed their journey.

Above them, the Western Wastes sky was filled with stars, while the desert below was almost completely swallowed by darkness.

Two faint streaks of sword light flew low over the dunes.

Neither man spoke.

On the morning of the second day, the communication jade token lit up again, though the signal was noticeably unstable this time.

Hao Nhien had to channel spiritual power into it twice before he could read the entire message.

The southwestern observation post had lost contact. A newly discovered group of strangers was moving south, and although the communication route remained functional, it was beginning to show signs of interference.

After hearing the report, Luu Thanh immediately studied the map.

“South?”

“Mm.”

The previous night, Hao Nhien had already considered approaching Cat Loi from that direction.

If the enemy was now moving additional people south as well, the blockade might be closing faster than expected.

Luu Thanh asked:

“Should we increase our speed?”

Hao Nhien shook his head.

“No. The closer we get, the more strength we preserve. From this point onward, this is no longer simply a journey.”

He looked toward the horizon.

“We are already entering enemy territory.”

Luu Thanh nodded.

The two continued flying low, only a few dozen zhang above the sand.

By the afternoon of the second day, the air began to change.

At first, there was only a faint metallic smell.

Hao Nhien initially thought it came from a dead spirit beast, but the farther they traveled, the clearer it became.

Blood.

Then the wind carried another scent toward them—the burnt smell of wood and animal hide.

Luu Thanh noticed it as well, his expression immediately turning grave.

“There has already been fighting ahead.”

Hao Nhien did not answer.

They traveled another dozen miles before a thin trail of smoke appeared along the northwestern horizon.

It was neither cloud nor blowing sand.

It was real smoke, stretched into a long line by the wind.

Hao Nhien immediately slowed.

“Down.”

Both men descended.

The instant his feet touched the ground, Hao Nhien stored his flying sword inside his storage ring. Luu Thanh did the same.

From this point onward, they could not allow sword light to appear in the sky.

Luu Thanh took out the map and compared their position.

“If we go straight, it is about four hours from here.”

Hao Nhien shook his head.

“We are not going straight.”

Luu Thanh looked at him.

Hao Nhien pointed at the map.

“Cat Luc said the eastern encirclement had not completely closed. If someone coming to reinforce Cat Loi heard that, what would they think?”

“Enter from the east.”

“Exactly. Which means the people surrounding the city know others will think the same way.”

Hao Nhien looked toward the low rocky ridges to the south.

“We circle south.”

He pulled a cloth over the lower half of his face before continuing:

“From here onward, suppress your aura. Do not extend your spiritual sense too far, and use voice transmission only when necessary.”

The two began moving through the depressions between the dunes.

Luu Thanh went slightly ahead, deliberately choosing routes hidden from direct sight and stretches of soft sand where the wind could quickly erase their tracks. Hao Nhien maintained some distance behind him, watching for subtle changes in the surrounding airflow.

After nearly an hour, Luu Thanh suddenly slowed and raised one hand.

Hao Nhien stopped immediately.

Luu Thanh moved toward a low sandy slope and crouched to examine several depressions that had almost been covered by the wind.

He brushed away the thin layer of sand along the edge of one print, checked several others nearby, then finally spoke.

“This group passed through recently.”

Hao Nhien followed the direction of the tracks with his eyes.

“How recently?”

“Hard to say exactly with the wind this strong, but less than two hours.”

Luu Thanh stood, walked several steps, then examined another set of tracks.

“It was not a small group. Some were on foot, others mounted. At least several dozen people.”

He raised his gaze toward the south.

“They were not heading toward Cat Loi City. They were circling farther down.”

Hao Nhien reconstructed the terrain in his mind and immediately understood.

It was the same route the two of them had chosen.

Luu Thanh frowned.

“They are closing the southern gap.”

“Or a patrol force is sweeping the outer perimeter,” Hao Nhien replied. “Either way, we cannot follow their trail from here.”

Luu Thanh nodded, swept his gaze across the surrounding terrain, then pointed toward a low rocky ridge diagonally to their right.

“We follow the base of those rocks. The ground there is harder and will leave fewer tracks. If someone approaches from ahead, there will also be places to hide.”

The two immediately changed direction.

They had not gone far when Hao Nhien suddenly slowed.

This time, it was not because of tracks in the sand.

The wind ahead was still passing through the rocks as usual, but at a point more than ten zhang away, the current suddenly divided slightly around something before quickly closing again.

Hao Nhien stopped completely.

Luu Thanh immediately noticed his reaction.

“What is it?”

Hao Nhien did not answer at once.

He extended only the faintest trace of his wind sensitivity, just enough to feel the changes in the nearby air.

That disturbance did not resemble wind being redirected by the terrain.

Something was standing in its path.

Hao Nhien looked at Luu Thanh.

“There is someone ahead.”

Luu Thanh did not ask how he knew.

His hand was already resting on the hilt of his sword, while his body lowered instinctively with the practiced movements of someone deeply familiar with hiding himself in the Western Wastes.

He surveyed the surroundings once, then pointed toward a rock fissure to the left.

“We do not approach directly. Circle through there and take higher ground first.”

Hao Nhien nodded.

The two silently left their original route.

One read the tracks in the sand and the shape of the terrain.

The other watched the smallest disturbances in the wind.

Only now did the encirclement around Cat Loi City truly begin to reveal itself before them.