The sun bled out across the horizon, painting the sky in shades of bruised purple and orange. Twilight settled over Hengzhou City like a shroud.
Down below, the streets were deserted, swallowed by an unnerving silence. As dusk fell, people locked themselves away, prisoners in their own homes. The evening air, thick with unspoken fear, was a warning to any who dared to be out.
Jiang Dao, however, was a blur of motion, his horse a dark comet streaking through the empty city. He galloped hard until the imposing silhouette of the South Gate rose before him.
"Hold it right there!" a voice boomed from the watchtower. "The gate is sealed. No one leaves the city!"
Jiang Dao pulled his stallion to a skidding halt. "It's Jiang Dao," he called out, his voice steady. "I have urgent business. Zhang, my friend, could you see your way to letting us pass?"
Up on the wall, a middle-aged constable's eyes narrowed. "Jiang Dao?" The name landed with a thud. He remembered the county magistrate's orders, whispered in a conspiratorial tone: Let the Jiangs pass. Open the small gate. Men are waiting outside the walls to take care of them. His reward for this simple act? A small fortune in silver.
A cruel smile touched the constable's lips. "Open the side gate!" he barked at the guards below. "Quickly!"
"My thanks, Brother Zhang!" Jiang Dao shouted, not waiting for a second invitation. He spurred his horse through the narrow opening, his five younger brothers scrambling to keep up.
The constable watched them disappear into the gloom, a chilling laugh caught in his throat. Fools, he thought. You think you're escaping? Leaving the city is just another kind of death sentence. Here, you might have had a sliver of a chance. Out there… well, if the spirits don't get you, the magistrate's men certainly will.
The sound of hoofbeats faded into the distance, a frantic rhythm against the dying light. They rode hard for miles, putting the city and its secrets behind them.
As the last traces of daylight vanished, Jiang Dao scanned the landscape. "There's an old temple up ahead," he said, pointing toward a crumbling silhouette against the darkened hills. "We'll rest there for the night."
"Whatever you say, big brother!" his brothers chimed in, their voices laced with an almost pathetic eagerness to please.
They found the temple shrouded in shadows, a skeleton of a building open to the night sky. But just as they were dismounting, tying their horses to a gnarled tree, a sudden, prickling sensation ran down Jiang Dao's spine.
He whipped his head around.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
A slow, mocking applause echoed from the temple's dark interior. A dozen figures melted out of the shadows, torches held high, their faces illuminated by the flickering, demonic light. They formed a tight circle around Jiang Dao and his brothers, brandishing gleaming blades and wicked smiles.
"Well, well," one of them sneered. "Look what the night dragged in. Another batch." He chuckled, a low, greedy sound. "This is a damn fine way to make a living. You have to hand it to Magistrate Wang—the man's got a business head."
"Bandits!" one of the brothers shrieked, stumbling backward. "Big brother, bandits!"
"Shut your damn mouth, kid," a masked man growled, running his tongue along the edge of his saber. "One more peep out of you, and I'll make you a soprano." His eyes scanned the terrified group, then landed on Jiang Ruyan, Jiang Dao's sister. A predatory light sparked in his gaze. "Oh, hello. Look what we have here. Fresh meat, boys. Looks like our luck is in tonight!"
A chorus of guttural laughs and whoops erupted from the circle of men. Jiang Ruyan, white as a sheet, shrank behind her brother, her hands twisted in the fabric of his shirt.
A cold, hard knot formed in Jiang Dao's stomach. Magistrate Wang. So that was it. The magistrate hadn't let them go; he had set them up. He'd sent them out here to be slaughtered, their possessions picked clean from their corpses like vultures on a carcass.
"Did Magistrate Wang send you?" Jiang Dao's voice was dangerously calm.
The man who had spoken before laughed again. "The kid's got ice in his veins. Too bad it won't save you. I'm not telling you anything, except that your luck has run out. You dodged the freaks back in the city, but you ran right into us. Tough break."
"Enough talk," another bandit grunted. "Let's get this over with."
"Agreed," the leader said, his eyes still fixed on Jiang Ruyan. "Kill the men. But leave the girl. I've always wondered what a rich man's daughter tastes like."
Three of them surged forward, blades raised for the kill. Jiang Dao's brothers whimpered, their legs buckling under them.
But before the blades could find their mark, there were three sickening thuds—the sound of bone meeting fist with brutal, final force. The three attackers were sent flying backward, their chests imploding as they hit the ground, already dead.
Jiang Dao stood over them, an immovable mountain of a man, his expression carved from stone. Pathetic, he thought. They're like paper dolls.
The clearing fell silent. The remaining bandits stared, their smirks frozen on their faces, eyes wide with disbelief. What in the hell was this kid?
"Boss… he's a master!" one of them stammered.
The leader's face contorted with rage. "What are you waiting for? Kill him! Cut him to ribbons!"
The rest of the bandits roared and charged as one, a chaotic whirlwind of steel and murderous intent. They were skilled fighters, handpicked by the magistrate for their ruthlessness, each a master of a different deadly art.
But they were charging at a force of nature.
Jiang Dao moved, not like a man, but like a hawk diving for the kill. His hand shot out, his fingers like steel talons, and closed around a bandit's throat. A sickening crack echoed in the night, and the man's body was tossed aside like a sack of trash.
A punch, and another man's chest caved in. A clawing grasp, and a third screamed as his face was ripped apart. With every move, Jiang Dao reaped a life. They were nothing to him, their years of training and fighting experience dissolving into pathetic, desperate flails against his raw power. One tried to stab him from behind, but Jiang Dao simply turned, caught the saber in his bare hand, and shattered it into a dozen pieces. His fingers then plunged into the man's forehead, and with a flick of his wrist, he used the corpse as a club to smash into another attacker.
It was a massacre.
Finally, only the leader remained, his face a mask of pure terror. He stared at the carnage, at the boy who had single-handedly slaughtered his entire crew.
"What… what are you?" he whimpered, before turning to run for his life.
"You think you can leave?" Jiang Dao's voice was as cold as the grave. He was on him in a heartbeat.
The bandit leader spun around, his palm turning a venomous black as he threw a desperate, poisoned strike.
Jiang Dao didn't even flinch. He simply punched.
The impact sent the leader flying, a spray of blood erupting from his mouth as he crashed to the ground, a broken mess.
Behind him, Jiang Dao's brothers could only stare, their mouths agape, trembling uncontrollably. His sister, Jiang Ruyan, had sunk to her knees, the world spinning around her. The sight of the bodies, the smell of blood, was too much. She bent over and began to retch.
Jiang Dao strode over to the broken bandit leader and looked down at him, his shadow falling over the man's trembling form.
"Now," he said, his voice low and devoid of emotion. "Tell me again. Did Magistrate Wang send you?"
The man cradled his shattered arm, his face a mess of pain and terror. "Don't kill me," he begged, tears streaming down his face. "Please, I'll tell you everything. Just don't kill me..."