Yang Jing suppressed his presence, hiding among the dense branches of an old pagoda tree as he peered through the gaps toward the dirt road.
Over the course of his pursuit, he had keenly detected at least five or six groups watching from the shadows.
Some hid behind distant earthen slopes, others lurked in the woods, but their eyes kept straying toward the approaching convoy. They were clearly monitoring the road and watching for ambushes.
Yang Jing grew wary.
Fortunately, he had chosen to follow through the mountain woods.
Had he stayed on the main road, these vigilant men would probably have spotted him already.
Once exposed, he would stir the grass and startle the snake, with unthinkable consequences.
Judging by their deployment, they were almost certainly lookouts for the Flying Horse Bandits, tasked with scouting the convoy's surroundings.
He could not help marveling. The Flying Horse Bandits had not run rampant across Yuhe County for over half a year through sheer luck.
They were meticulous, their precautions layered one over another. Even the ransom delivery route had so many lookouts stationed along it. No wonder the authorities' repeated campaigns had failed.
Yang Jing dared not let his guard slip. He suppressed his presence completely, becoming like a stone that belonged to the mountain forest.
He continued following the convoy from a distance under the cover of the trees.
After roughly another two hours, the terrain ahead gradually grew more treacherous, and a deep gorge appeared at the edge of his vision.
That was Black Wind Valley.
The gorge had a narrow entrance flanked by sheer cliffs bristling with jagged rocks.
Chill gusts swept through its mouth, stirring sand and stones into mournful howls. Even from far away, he could feel its sinister air.
The high mountains on either side