Willow River Village. The cripple sitting on the donkey cart fell silent for a moment, looking at the figures who had suddenly appeared before him.
They all looked fairly young, but judging by their neat clothing, none of them seemed to be ordinary people.
That made the cripple wary.
He turned to look at his accomplices.
There were only four people on his side in total.
The other side had six.
But two of those six were women, and the mild-mannered young man leading them looked rather thin.
Besides, they were all unarmed.
Perhaps his side still had the advantage.
The cripple slowly laid the whip in his hand across his knees while reaching for the short saber beneath his seat.
The mild-mannered young man standing at the front had clearly noticed what the cripple was doing.
A faint smile curled his lips, and he flicked his fingers.
A faint, sharp whistle cut through the air. The next instant, a puff of bloody mist burst from the shoulder of the cripple's right arm as he reached beneath the seat.
Then he let out a muffled grunt.
A pebble had pierced his shoulder.
In that single instant, they understood exactly what they were facing.
The man was an Immortal Cultivator!
Panic flashed in the cripple's eyes. Then, gritting his teeth against the pain, he hurriedly scrambled off the donkey cart.
"Spare my life, Immortal Master! Spare my life!"
He knelt on the ground, loudly begging for mercy again and again, with no time to spare for the pain in his shoulder.
The mild-mannered young man, however, did not look at the cripple. Instead, he raised his gaze toward the captives sitting in the cage on the bed of the donkey cart.
His gaze swept over the people in the cage one