Rain knew that his string of silent killings had come to an end the moment a somber, calculating expression appeared on the scarred man's face. The element of surprise had been the sole reason he was able to take down seven hardened bandits in rapid succession. Now that suspicion had taken root, the element of surprise was entirely gone.
It was only a matter of time before they discovered the disappearance of their companions. Once the cat was out of the bag, Rain's plan to systematically exterminate the raiders from the shadows would hit a wall.
"Those guys are missing. No matter how reckless and unruly they are, they wouldn't dare ignore my whistle. Could it be that something happened to them?" The scarred man muttered to himself, deep in thought as he scanned the desolate lane.
Although Rain couldn't catch the exact words from his hiding spot, he could easily guess that whatever was going through the bandit's mind boded ill for him. His eyes dimmed, taking on a chilling, resolute edge. He slowly crawled backward toward a secondary exit door at the rear of the structure. Slipping into a parallel alley, he looped around until he was positioned directly behind his target.
Hidden near the exit of the narrow lane, Rain tried to find the perfect window to strike. Subconsciously, his heartbeat slowed down as he forced himself into a state of absolute calm. Whatever happened next, he needed to end this in a single, decisive blow. While Rain trailed silently, waiting for the precise second to execute his ambush, the bandit began retracing Rain's previous route.
As the raider advanced toward the stone bridge connecting the east and west sections of the village, he noticed a corpse half-concealed by the tall grass growing along the riverbank. His expression shifted instantly as he recognized the owner of the body: it was his Seventh Brother.
The man slid down the gentle slope toward the muddy water's edge to inspect the exact cause of his companion's demise. He flatly refused to believe that his brother could have been brought down by a weak, ordinary villager. This was a production settlement—a place whose people lived off the land and sold raw goods. While there were a few local hunters, they were only a handful, and more importantly, they had all been slaughtered at the very beginning of the raid.
Could our intel have been wrong? The bandit was thoroughly baffled.
These bandits were seasoned professionals. They weren't reckless fools; this village had been scouted long in advance and judged to carry the lowest possible risk-to-reward ratio. Because of that professional pride, the man remained deeply skeptical until he saw the gaping, horrific wound and the exposed innards of his fallen comrade.
From his trained perspective, this was clearly a wound inflicted by a heavy wood-chopping axe or a brutal saber.
This really is Seventh Brother's corpse. He was a martial expert at the 'lifting light like it's heavy' stage. Anywhere in the martial world, he'd be considered a somewhat proficient figure. How could he die so miserably, his insides laid bare for the world to see? The scarred bandit's expression darkened into a mask of pure fury.
Hidden deep within the dense riverbank bushes, Rain watched him tensely. He was personally responsible for that corpse. It had been a terribly close fight; that particular bandit had possessed far more physical power than any of the others he had faced, completely nullifying his initial ambush. That brute possessed terrifying combat instincts, dodging a lethal strike to the neck at the last millisecond and punishing Rain with devastating blows.
Rain winced instinctively as a phantom ache flared across his ribs. He had been born with a remarkably resilient constitution, but those heavy strikes had felt like a landslide crashing against his chest. He had only managed to put that monster down through an exhausting, desperate chase and every dirty trick he could muster. After all, as a lifelong resident, he knew the terrain far better than any invader.
"I know you're here. Come out!"
A thunderous roar suddenly exploded from the scarred bandit. He had stood up from examining his companion's body and bellowed into the open air.
The sudden blast of sound startled Rain, causing him to flinch. Unknowingly, his boot pressed down on a brittle, dry branch beneath the brush.
Crack.
Like a wild predator, the scarred bandit's ears twitched instantly. His head snapped toward Rain's position in the undergrowth, his pupils contracting into sharp pins.
"Got you, you little rat!" he roared, launching himself forward like a cannonball.
Realizing he was completely exposed, Rain exploded into motion, sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him. The wind shrieked past his ears, and his heart hammered frantically against his ribs. A deep sense of dread washed over him, but his intuition told him the brutal truth: he couldn't outrun this man. The scarred bandit was leagues faster and more dangerous than anyone he had faced so far.
Unfortunately, his instincts proved entirely correct. Before he could even cover twenty meters, a tremendous rush of wind struck his back. A heavy palm hit him like a falling boulder, blasting him clean off his feet.
He soared through the air for a brief, weightless moment before crashing violently into the rocky, mud-slicked ground, landing like a sack of dead weight.
BANG!
For a heartbeat, the world went utterly silent.
Then, pure agony erupted across his entire body. Rain felt as though half the bones in his frame had shattered upon impact. His trusted axe had been ripped from his grip, flying god-knows-where into the underbrush. The pain was so blindingly intense that he bit down hard on his lower lip until it bled just to choke back the scream clawing at his throat. At the same time, the coppery taste of blood flooded his mouth.
His internal organs had clearly taken severe damage as well.
Is this even the strength of a human being? Rain wondered hazily through crushing waves of nausea and blackness.
Reality violently reasserted itself as the heavy thud of approaching footsteps echoed against the stone. Face down in the dirt and unable to lift his torso, he forced his neck to turn, desperate to look upon the man responsible for his destruction.
The scarred bandit stopped right beside him, crouching down slowly. He stared down at Rain not with anger, but with a cold, detached scrutiny—his eyes so devoid of warmth they could freeze water.
"So, it's you?" The man shook his head in absolute disbelief. "A brat like you... a kid managed to take down so many of my brothers? Ridiculous."
Every single one of his comrades was a trained martial artist, capable of single-handedly handling ten armed men in a standard brawl. The idea that an untrained teenager had dismantled half their crew was utterly incomprehensible.
Rain wanted to snap back with a sharp, sarcastic remark, but his throat was too choked with blood for him to even form words. His situation was undeniably bleak. The bandit stared down at him, seemingly lost in thought as murderous intent flashed periodically across his scarred face.
Rain knew the man was debating whether to end him right here or drag him out. After what felt like an agonizing eternity, the bandit's expression settled. He had made up his mind.
"I'll bring you to the Boss. Let him decide what to do with a rat like you," the scarred man grunted.
Rain was entirely powerless as the heavy-handed raider grabbed him by his collar and dragged him roughly across the blood-stained village paths. He couldn't move a muscle, let alone speak. Only muffled groans escaped his lips whenever the friction of the rough stone roadway sent searing spikes of pain through his battered back.
After what felt like hours, they finally reached the village center.
The village square was built around a large stone fountain that normally served as the community market and announcement grounds. The water feature was fed from the mouth of a grand stone statue depicting a noble lord dressed in immaculate scholarly robes—holding a sharp sword in one hand and an open book in the other. It was the likeness of the local magistrate, Lord Saal Blacksnow of the Blacksnow Clan.
Reaching their destination, the scarred brute unceremoniously heaved Rain forward. The momentum sent him skidding across the cobblestones straight into a cluster of huddled bodies. The other villagers cushioned his fall before he rolled limply onto the ground.
Raising his heavy eyelids, Rain took in the scene. All the villagers had apparently been rounded up and herged into the plaza. They were bound tightly at the wrists and forced onto their knees. A sweeping glance confirmed his worst fears: there were no adult males or elderly townsfolk left. They had all been systematically slaughtered, leaving only terrified women, youths, and small children shivering in the dirt.
As Rain struggled to process the grim reality around him, a harsh, abrasive voice cut through the heavy silence of the square.
"Look what we have here... So, Second Brother, you're telling me that half of our elite men were taken down by this half-dead kid?"
An imposing, heavily armed man seated atop a powerful warhorse slowly rode forward into the center of the plaza, flanked closely by the scarred bandit who had captured Rain.