As the carriage rolled toward their destination, Zhang Yan glanced out the window, sensing something was amiss. He immediately called out, “Stop. Everyone, get ready.” Despite not being as proficient as his predecessor, Zhang Yan had quickly adapted to the body he now inhabited. After a month of travel, he was accustomed to his martial prowess which was the First Rate level, and his instincts were sharp. He could sense danger approaching.
Zhang Yan stepped out of the carriage and surveyed the surroundings, his sword trembling slightly—a sure sign that a swordsman was nearby. Even though I didn’t want this, it’s not like I can just leave these kids behind and run away... he thought. He sighed, "Come out, whoever you are."
The disciples, still inexperienced with such situations, nervously glanced around, unsure of what was about to unfold. However, one of them, Qin Tao, who had always been loud and fearless, couldn’t help but speak up with excitement, “You guys are out of luck! You’ve run into the Holy Son of Mystic Sect—the one who singlehandedly destroyed the Ox Bandit group and ripped their souls out!”
The other disciples looked at Qin Tao, bewildered. Zhang Yan, on the other hand, shot him a sidelong glance. Holy Son? When did I become that? And who spread those rumors? He looked at Yang Mei, who seemed to understand his silent question.
Before Zhang Yan could speak, Yang Mei confidently called out, “If you don’t come out in ten seconds, we’ll consider you enemies. You don’t want to make an enemy of the Mystic Sect.”
Zhang Yan, despite his nerves, had no choice but to play the part of the leader. He was the most powerful one here, and the responsibility fell on him. As he waited for the response, the bandits, hidden just out of sight, whispered among themselves in panic.
"Shit, why did it have to be the Mystic Sect?" one muttered, the fear evident in his voice. "First our leader gets killed, and now we’ve run into a hero who slayed 200 bandits all by himself!" another cursed. "What should we do? Are we doomed?" "Quiet!" snapped the bandit leader. “We have 50 people; they only have 20. We have the advantage. Don’t panic.” But then another voice murmured, “You don’t know who he is, do you? He took down 200 bandits and five First Rate warriors by himself. What are we going to do?”
The bandits were now all too aware that they were in a life-or-death situation.
Then, out of the bushes, the bandit leader stepped forward, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. “We’re not your enemies. We were just hiding because we heard the sound of horses. You know how it is—bandit activity in these parts…”
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Zhang Yan’s eyes narrowed. "Call your men out too."
At that command, around fifty figures emerged from the trees, all standing behind their leader. Zhang Yan scrutinized them for a moment, noting the lack of luggage or horses, the weathered faces, and the scars on their bodies. Even if they aren’t bandits, they’re no strangers to a rough life, Zhang Yan thought. They’re not good people either.
The leader, sensing Zhang Yan’s doubt, nervously stammered, “You—you're probably here to protect these kids, right? Don’t move, or we’ll hurt them.”
One of his subordinates whispered, “Why are you trying to provoke him?”
“ Can’t you see his hand is already on the sword? Get ready.He has seen through out lie”
Zhang Yan’s disciples were tense, sensing the danger, but Yang Mei quickly saw through the bandits’ words and stepped forward. “Are you bandits trying to negotiate with us?”
Zhang Yan was stunned for a moment, confused by how quickly the situation escalated. Wait, why did you jump to conclusions and think I saw through your disguise? he thought. But before he could say anything, Qin Tao blurted out, “Senior Brother, don’t worry about us. We can defend ourselves.”
The bandit leader, realizing their situation was rapidly deteriorating, was about to issue the order to fight—or worse, flee. Well, I can run faster than these guys if I need to, he thought, gripping his sword. Just as he began to draw it, a sudden movement sliced through the air.
Shing!
The unmistakable sound of a sword’s sharp edge echoed through the air as the bandit leader’s head fell cleanly to the ground. Zhang Yan had moved before he even thought, executing an invisible phantom slash that no one could follow.
Zhang Yan looked down at the severed head, his face grim. I didn’t want this. I knew I’d have to kill to survive in this world… He turned his attention to the remaining bandits, who were now frozen in terror, unable to move. “So, what will it be?” he asked. “Will you surrender or fight?”
The bandits, unable to bear the sight of their leader’s headless body, began to flee in panic, scattering into the forest. Qin Tao, eager for action, shouted, “Senior Brother, they’re running! Should we chase them?”
Zhang Yan turned to him with a quiet, measured gaze. “Are you capable of killing them all?”
Qin Tao froze, realizing the truth of his senior brother’s words. “No, Senior Brother…”
“Then let them go. If you’re capable, someday you can chase them down across the world,” Zhang Yan replied, turning away.
“But what about you, Senior Brother? You’re capable. Why not catch them?” Qin Tao persisted.
Zhang Yan glanced up at the sky, his face calm. “I’m not that capable. Could I really kill just because I can?”
With that, he turned and walked back toward the carriage, the tension finally lifting from his shoulders. No one noticed his hand trembling as it gripped the hilt of his sword—the same hand that had just taken a life so effortlessly. But now, as he settled back into the carriage, his hand was as steady as a mountain. It seemed he had truly blended into this world and accepted his new reality.