Chapter 79: No Mercy for the Weak

The moment Garris’s spiritual perception touched Vane and the other three riders, his breath caught

His knees trembled and the soles of his leather boots scraped against the stone.

The truth was far worse than he had ever expected.

Vane and the three mounted raiders were no common warriors armed with crude steel and brute strength.

They were bona fide Qi Cultivators.

Even through the veil of darkness and the dense fog, Garris could sense the potent, refined spiritual auras emanating from the four bandits.

Their flesh and bone had been tempered through the agonizing trials of the Body-Refining Stage

And the spiritual energy surging in their meridians had reached the Mortal-Qi Stage.

But Vane was the strongest among them.

A Martial Warrior 9th Stage cultivator.

At that level, one’s Qi would be more than enough to shatter stone and rend steel.

The other three raiders were no pushovers either.

They were all in the middle to late stages of the Body-Refining and Martial Warrior realms.

Garris’s heart sank like a stone.

Compared to these bandits, he was barely a martial practitioner at the Martial Warrior Early Stage.

As for the ten trade guards standing behind him, they were commoners armed with nothing but steel blades and the courage of desperation.

They stood no chance against trained Qi Cultivators.

At that moment, Garris finally understood why the bandits had been so fearless when facing certain death.

It wasn’t because they had numbers on their side.

To ordinary villagers and frontier guards, Qi Cultivators were legends that dwelled in the realm of imagination.

It was like pitting a flock of sheep against a pack of wolves.

No matter how many guards stood behind him, no matter how desperately they gripped their short blades, they stood no chance against warriors who could reinforce their bodies with Qi and possess combat capabilities far beyond ordinary mortals.

For the first time since the ambush began, hopelessness gnawed at Garris’s heart.

Garris’s hardened heart lost all confidence, giving way to utter despair.

Years of experience as a caravan captain told him the grim truth.

If they fought, they would all die - a glorious, swift death.

His heart pounded furiously against his ribs as Garris lowered his stance and turned to face his men.

He forced a calm expression though his voice trembled as he spoke through gritted teeth.

" Don’t fight them."

The guards closest to him looked at him in bewilderment.

Garris continued in a hushed tone, " Listen to me... don’t draw your blades."

He shot a meaningful glance at the four riders.

" They’re Qi Cultivators."

Garris swallowed hard.

" We can’t win."

His words struck the guards like a thunderclap.

The guards stared at him in disbelief as the truth slowly sank in.

Garris turned his gaze back at the four heavily loaded carriages.

The cargo, the horses, the winter supply, all the valuables the caravan had gathered over the months - they were all there, neatly arranged inside the wooden boxes.

Bitterness twisted at Garris’s heart.

For a moment, he wanted to curse everything and everyone.

But none of the cargo was as precious as the lives of his men.

" Give them everything," Garris said, his voice frayed.

" The cargo. The horses. The winter supplies. Everything."

He took a steadying breath and fixed his gaze on the four bandits.

" If we cooperate... maybe they’ll let us live."

The guards looked at each other, their faces etched with concern.

No one wanted to give up their weapons.

After all, they had worked tirelessly for months just to gather these supplies.

The grain would see their families through the winter while the medicinal herbs would stock the village clinic.

But the oppressive aura emanating from the four bandits had already broken their spirits.

One guard sheathed his dagger, then another, until the last of the trade guards unsheathed their short blades and pushed them back into their scabbards with hesitant, trembling hands.

The crossbows were lowered one by one as the guards let their hands drop to their sides.

The caravan guards had surrendered.

" Smart old dog," Vane said mockingly from his saddle.

A cruel grin stretched across his face as he surveyed the meek guards below.

" Now, don’t just stand there trembling like winter rabbits. Unload the carriages. Every sack. Every crate. Move it!"

The trade guards lowered their heads and reluctantly approached the carriages.

With a heavy heart, Garris and his men dragged the burlap sacks out of the wagons and dump them on the ground.

The pale grains spilled out in a steady stream, swirling in the air before settling on the muddy road, mingling with the white dust.

Bulky wooden chests filled with medicinal herbs followed, before the bundles of tanned animal hides were tossed on the roadside.

Within moments, the items the caravan guards had worked so hard to gather were strewn carelessly on the roadside like discarded trash.

The caravan guards unharnessed the draft horses from the carriages, before handing the reins over to one of the bandits who herded them together with an angry snap of his leather whip.

Vane remained on his horse, his heavy saber resting idly on his knee.

His cold eyes swept over the scene before him.

It was all happening before his eyes - the sight of an entire village surrendering everything they had worked for.

Then, without warning, one of the sub-leaders of the bandits sitting on a black stallion let out a loud barking laugh.

" Look at them!"

The man pointed a gloved finger at the cowering trade guards.

" They actually thought lugging a bunch of sacks of grain through the Blackwood Pass at midnight was a good idea!"

The bandit’s cruel laughter echoed in the cold mountains.

" Pathetic little cockroaches!"

Another bandit added, letting out a contemptuous chuckle.

Within moments, all four bandits broke into loud, mocking laughter.

Their contemptuous voices rung out in the damp, stony ravine, making the air itself seem to tremble with their derision.

Vane slowly looked down at the guards below.

There was no sympathy in his gaze, only loathing.

To him, these villagers and the guards were no more than contemptible cattle that had to be culled.

Ordinary mortals that had long since learned their place in this world.

Useful only when their Qi energy could be harvested.

Garris kept his head low, his calloused knuckles digging into his palm, drawing blood.

A lifetime of battles had trained his instincts to react at the first sign of danger.

But a lifetime of experience also told him that arrogance in the face of Qi Cultivators would see him dead in less than a heartbeat.

A heavy breath escaped his lungs as he forced himself to stay calm - for the sake of his men.

Survival was the most important thing.

Living to see another day, if not returning safely to Valen, was worth every drop of blood in his body.

Meanwhile, inside the rear carriage, Shadow One remained seated in the darkness.

His broad, muscular body was perfectly still on the wooden bench.

His crimson-tinted eyes were fixed on the bandits outside.

Not a muscle on his body twitched as he took in the surroundings.

The bandits - their postures, the way they shifted in their saddles, the gleam of their steel sabers.

Even the Qi energy in their meridians was not beyond his notice.

His amber gaze lingered on Vane, quietly analyzing the bandit leader’s Qi power.

A Martial Warrior 9th Stage cultivator was no small fry.

Shadow One silently registered the specifics of Vane’s power, the strength of his aura, the speed of his strikes, the possible pressure points...

The other bandits’ laughter and the guards’ terrified voices were of no interest to him.

He continued his observations, carefully weighing every detail.

The bandits’ voices grew louder as the last of the wooden chest was dumped on the road.

The carriages were emptied of their cargo, their wooden beds stripped bare.

The horses were gone, the guards disarmed.

The village guards and villagers had surrendered everything they had.

But Shadow One showed no reaction.

Vane pulled the leather reins, sending his horse into a tight circle until he faced the opposite direction of the mountain pass.

It was an illusory lull, deceptive and false.

The bandits did not intend on leaving.

Garris’s face drained of all color as a sickening realization dawned upon him.

The cargo was never the real prize.

Not for these bandits.

Vane slowly raised his saber.

The curved blade caught the eerie violet glow of the twin moons, reflecting the cold, merciless light of the dark night.

He shot a contemptuous glance at the villagers below.

The bandits did not speak.

Instead, the four riders fanned out, their horses taking up positions on either side, widening the gap between them until they formed a crescent-shaped blockade at the mouth of the mountain path.

There was no escape.

Garris’s heart clenched painfully.

The bandits had no intention of leaving anyone alive.

If even one of the village guards survived, the local magistrates or nearby military garrisons might take notice of the Red-Sash syndicate’s movements in this region.

That was a risk they could not afford.

The bandits had finished their business.

Now, it was time for the real hunt to begin.

Inside the rear carriage, Shadow One’s crimson eyes snapped open.

A faint glow flickered at the corner of his pupils.

Deep inside his body, the light of his artificial core flared to life, casting an ominous red glow in the gloom of the carriage.