In the mountains, a medium-sized merchant caravan proceeded slowly.

The packhorses dragged carts loaded with goods, wooden wheels rolling over dirt and leaving behind twin ruts.

A middle-aged guard named Yang Er sat on horseback. His eyes were fixed on the Dark Woods, and his palm, bearing the long scar of a knife wound, subconsciously reached for the handle of his Horizontal Knife at his waist.

During peaceful times, the role of the Escort Master Guardian for a merchant caravan wasn't too bad—famed outlaws mostly abided by the unspoken rules of the underworld, with tacit agreements between officials and Escort Agencies. When an Escort Master encountered a "hero" of the greenwoods, an introduction of their respective affiliations followed by a modest bribe would secure safe passage through dangerous defiles, protecting both the lives and property of their employers.

But these were troubled and chaotic times. The government was too busy suppressing rebellions to concern itself with bandits in remote regions. Worse still, military conflicts erupted frequently, and disasters like floods, droughts, and locusts were relentless. These calamities drove large numbers of refugees to desperation. Some bandits seized this opportunity to recruit able-bodied men from the refugees, gathering them in the mountains and creating a formidable force.

These were the ones without rules.

Yang Er slowly exhaled a turbid breath, vaguely feeling the scar on the back of his hand begin to throb and ache again.

Suddenly, the sounds of breaking vegetation and trampling footsteps rose from the deep mountains on both sides, as dozens of shadowy figures rushed down from the slopes.

They had encountered bandits.

The Merchant Team Manager, Coachman, and Cargo Jacks within the caravan turned deathly pale, their legs trembling. Even the packhorses seemed to sense something amiss, whinnying restlessly.

Yang Er's expression changed drastically. He lifted two fingers to his lips and blew a sharp whistle. The other nine caravan guards immediately unslung their Longbows, their faces taut, vigilantly eyeing the woods on both sides.

The bandits were hidden while their enemy was exposed. They could have easily annihilated these unarmored Escort Master Guardians with just a few volleys of arrows. Their reluctance to shoot perhaps stemmed solely from their desire for the impressive horses the Escort Masters rode.

Yang Er steadied himself and shouted loudly, "May I ask which band of heroes you gentlemen on the mountain belong to? I am from the Pingyuan Escort Agency in Weng State, Lu County. This is my first time passing through your esteemed territory and meeting you, my friends. I apologize for not having a gift readily available. Please allow me a few days to prepare, and I promise to visit your stronghold with valuable gifts to offer my apologies and thanks."

Several mounted bandits appeared on the mountain road ahead. The leader was a short, stocky man with crafty eyes, dressed in tattered leather armor and wielding a machete. His forehead was wide and high, his teeth sparse and crooked, and his bloodshot eyes bulged like a fish's.

The short, stocky man stared intently at Yang Er, waved the machete in his hand, and spat a thick gob of phlegm onto the ground. He declared fiercely, "To hell with your gifts! I'm not falling for that. Either drop your weapons and leave behind all valuables, or go to your graves."

"..."

Yang Er glanced at the trembling, helpless Merchant Team Manager and gritted his teeth secretly. Their caravan had only ten guards; the rest were commoners who had never held a weapon. Even if we do as they say and drop our weapons, death will likely still await us.

At least thirty or more bandits could be seen on the hillsides. Even if they did as told and dropped their weapons, it was likely death awaited them in the end.

No one spoke. The scene fell silent for a moment.

Yang Er faintly saw an arm hanging by the side of the horse the short, stocky man rode.

A human arm, roasted.

Horse hooves trampled the ground. Yang Er gripped the handle of his Horizontal Knife tighter, while a few guards silently drew their bowstrings.

"Hmph, refusing a toast only to be forced to drink a forfeit."

The short, stocky bandit licked his dry, cracked lips, revealing teeth so decayed they seemed corroded black to the gums. With a fierce swing of his machete, he yelled, "Attack!"

This shout seemed to be a signal. Dozens of roughly made Wooden Arrows, some lacking even fletching, were launched from the woods. Though the volley was scattered, their position on higher ground still gave them enough lethal force to take lives.

The Wooden Arrows rained down—THUD! THUD! THUD! Fortunately, the terrified Coachman and Cargo Jacks had already taken the opportunity to scramble beneath the wooden carts. The first wave of Wooden Arrows injured only two or three packhorses.

Yang Er hesitated no longer. He drew his Longbow to its full extent and shot an Arrow toward the short, stocky man.

The iron arrowhead, propelled by the wind, tore through the air. Just as the Arrow was about to pierce the simple leather armor, penetrate flesh, and claim a life, Yang Er saw the short, stocky man's lips curl into a hideous smile.

The arrowhead broke through the ragged leather armor and touched the skin. But instead of piercing flesh, it emitted a resonant CLANG! upon impact. All its kinetic energy was instantly snatched away, and it fell listlessly to the ground. It was as if the Arrow had struck not a human body, but a bronze bell or cauldron.

What?! Yang Er's eyes bulged open. He had no time to wonder why the other man could ignore Arrows. Driven by instinct, his body moved. He slapped the cold flat of his knife against his horse's flank, urging it to gallop forward at breakneck speed. Charging with immense momentum, he swung his Long Knife high, aiming to cleave the bandit leader's head from his shoulders!

CLANG!

The sound of metal clashing against metal rang out once again. Yang Er, still charging forward on his horse, felt his hand lighten. Glancing back, he saw the gleaming blade spinning in mid-air. The sturdy, forged Horizontal Knife had broken apart, leaving only the handle.

Meanwhile, the stocky bandit sat leisurely on his horse, casually touching his neck where the sharp blade had just passed. His grimy neck, unwashed for ages, bore only a faint white mark that disappeared with a light rub.

"Heh heh."

The bandit chuckled softly, ignoring the sounds of fighting and shouting around him. He looked down at the cooked human arm placed on the side of his horse. This Unbreakable Golden Body Techniques, gifted by the White Lotus Master, is truly effective...

Several months ago, the bandit Hu Wan was just a Prisoner, convicted of a crime and about to be exiled to the frontier. A devastating plague swept through the state and county, indiscriminately killing countless officials, nobles, and commoners alike. It also claimed the lives of the two Government Officials escorting him, allowing him to escape into the Dark Woods and rise up with a howling roar.

One day, two young women dressed in white skirts, appearing ethereal as if they were fairies, rode white horses leisurely through the woods. As a mountain bandit, Hu Wan's predatory instincts flared. Unable to contain himself, he immediately gathered his men to descend the mountain and capture the two women.

Unexpectedly, the two women regarded the bandits as insignificant. With a wave of their long sleeves, they unleashed countless golden needles, piercing the heads of the bandits who had approached with lecherous grins. Just when Hu Wan thought he too would be killed by the hidden golden needles, the women spared his life. They claimed to be White Lotus Emissaries, specially there to convert Hu Wan.

Conversion, as it turned out, meant gifting him a scroll of illustrated scriptures, revealing a Spell. According to the scriptures, practicing this art would make one impervious to weapons and immune to fire and water, just like the Buddha Sect's Unbreakable Golden Body.

And one of the primary methods of practice was to consume one's own kind.

Heh.

At the thought, Hu Wan couldn't help but find it somewhat amusing. Famines, droughts, and locust plagues had persisted across the land for years. In countless places, bones littered the ground, and no chickens crowed for hundreds of miles. Countless people were displaced, forced to gnaw on tree bark and eat grass roots. Some even sold their children to survive or engaged in cannibalism. Merely eating one's own kind... He had already witnessed it, tried it, even savored it, back when he was a refugee...

His thoughts were dragged back to reality.

Confident in his unbreakable body, Hu Wan slowly raised his head. He belatedly realized that the shouts of battle around him had somehow subsided. No more Arrows flew from either side of the mountain.

On the narrow mountain road, only bewildered bandits clutching machetes, helpless Escort Master Guardians, and merchants cowering beneath the wooden carts remained.

A deathly silence enveloped the woods. Although the afternoon sun still hung high, a strange, chilly aura spread and permeated the air.

A young man draped in a black robe slowly walked down from the mountain.

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