The sun was setting.
On the Official Road outside Black Wind Town, a cloud of dust rose in the distance.
Pan Feng rode at the very front on a tall horse, the Mountain Splitting Great Axe laid across the back of his saddle.
Dark red bloodstains still clung to its blade, glinting ominously beneath the setting sun.
His bright silver armor was splattered with mud and blood, while sweat and dust smeared his face.
Yet his bell-sized eyes shone frighteningly bright, and his mouth stretched into a grin as joyous as that of a two-hundred-jin child.
Behind him, the long procession wound like a snake, stretching beyond sight.
At the very front was the convoy escorting the captives.
Several hundred mountain bandits had been strung together with hemp ropes, their hands tied behind their backs as they staggered along. Every one of them was filthy and dejected, their heads hanging low.
A few who walked too slowly were jabbed in the lower back with spear shafts by the soldiers beside them. They grunted in pain and did not dare dawdle any longer.
Dozens of Horse Carriages were piled high and tightly bound with thick hemp ropes. Their wheels creaked as they rolled over the stone slabs.
They carried the gold, silver, grain, cloth, medicinal herbs, pills, and all manner of miscellaneous items seized from the mountain bandits' lair.
Some of the chests were not properly closed, and as the carriages jolted along, a few silver ingots rolled out through the gaps.
They clinked onto the ground, only to be picked up by the soldiers behind and casually tossed back in.
Behind the carriages was a group of ragged women, numbering around a hundred.
There were old and young, fat and thin. Some kept their heads lowered, some looked around in