Crossroads

Gu Shenwei suddenly stood up, impulsively wanting to rush out and fight his enemies to the death. However, reason quickly prevailed. Regardless of the assassins' origins, his father Gu Lun, his master Yang Zheng, and his two elder brothers had no power to resist, and he himself was even more vulnerable. His survival was already a minor miracle.

New whistles joined from all directions, long and short, rising and falling, like a flock of noisy raptors fighting over food. Soon, they entered the manor's ruins, with the sound of hooves mixing, as if hundreds or even thousands of people were charging in.

Gu Shenwei crouched low, hiding behind a broken wall. A torch was thrown into the air, tumbling over his head.

Before Gu Shenwei could understand what was happening, the back of his neck tightened as a large hand gripped him firmly. The owner of the hand leaped his horse, and Gu Shenwei's feet left the ground involuntarily.

Before the horse's hooves landed, the large hand suddenly released him. Gu Shenwei fell heavily to the ground, crying out in pain. He rolled twice before standing up, only to find himself surrounded by horse-mounted swordsmen. In the light of numerous torches, each one looked like a hungry wolf, greedily staring at a small prey.

Things in the human world are often like this. After an earthquake, there is always a downpour; after the rain, a gale. Misfortune is like an attacked animal; the dripping blood always attracts more carnivores, followed by scavengers, then nocturnal creatures, then flies, and then even smaller organisms, until the entire mass of flesh, bone, and sinew disappears completely.

The annihilation of the Gu Family was a fatal wound. The first wave of assassins had eaten their fill and retreated. Behind the assassins, a pack of jackals and crows followed.

They were dirty bandits and thieves, and their numbers were far fewer than Gu Shenwei had imagined. There were only five of them; the whistles, hoofbeats, and torches had magnified the scene.

Gu Shenwei had no idea who these people were, so he treated them as enemies. Like a cub cornered, he growled, baring his not-so-sharp claws.

A long whip struck silently from the darkness, and Gu Shenwei fell to the ground again. The bandits let out excited laughter. One of them bent down, grabbed the boy, and unceremoniously placed him across his horse, searching him. He found the small packet of silver the boy had been carrying, held it high, and shouted:

"Hey, this kid is one of us, he beat us to it!"

Gu Shenwei understood who these people were and was filled with rage. "Let me go!" he shouted, struggling to snatch the packet back.

The bandits' laughter grew louder. They didn't take the boy seriously at all. They put the silver in their own pouches, casually slapped the boy hard on the back, and then took out the small oilcloth package.

Gu Shenwei's back felt as if it had broken, the pain piercing to his bones. But what terrified him even more was the stolen internal energy manual—the most precious relic of the Gu Family, more important than his own life.

The bandit whistled, tearing open the oilcloth package, and then froze. Inside was a thin book. He flipped through a few pages, but he couldn't understand a single word.

"What is this crap?" the bandit asked angrily.

"Give it back!" Gu Shenwei surged forward.

The bandit punched him in the face, nearly knocking him unconscious. He tossed the book aside, took out a rope, and bound the boy tightly. Then, he dismounted and followed the others into the ruins to search for valuables.

Gu Shenwei's hands and feet were bound, and he could only wriggle like a worm, struggling desperately. Finally, he fell from the horse to the ground. Then, using all his strength, he crawled towards the book.

Just as he was about to reach the manual, a strong wind swept across the ground. The flame of a torch the bandits had discarded flickered like a snake's tongue, long and short. It touched the fluttering pages of the book and immediately began to burn merrily.

This fire also burned Gu Shenwei's heart. His greatest regret now was not having diligently practiced his family's martial arts. He couldn't even defeat an ordinary bandit.

He rolled onto the book to extinguish the flames, then quickly rolled away to avoid the nearby torch. He bit the book and moved some distance away, finally saving his family's manual, but only a portion of it. The first few pages were almost completely burned.

He looked at the book with grief, noticing the text on it, and was stunned. He recognized the words, every single one of them. But when put together, it was clearly an account book, with not a single sentence related to internal energy!

The "manual" he had painstakingly found and saved was not the "Hehe Jin" rapid cultivation method. Gu Shenwei felt as if he had been doused with a bucket of ice-cold water. This manual had held a crucial place in his simple revenge plan. Without it, with only his meager martial arts, he would likely need to train for at least thirty years before being qualified to seek revenge.

The rapid cultivation method of "Hehe Jin" had significant side effects. The past masters of the Gu Family had always kept the manual carefully hidden, rarely allowing their descendants to view it. One ancestor was said to have cultivated using this method, his internal energy advancing rapidly, doubling his strength. Combined with his family's mastery of swords and spears, he became renowned for a time. However, after only three years, he died mysteriously and horribly.

Gu Shenwei only wanted revenge and naturally didn't care about the outcome after three years. Now, he didn't even have this hope of mutual destruction.

The bandits were skilled at looting the ruins. In less than the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, they returned to the courtyard with bags and bundles of loot, whistling and preparing to leave.

The bandit who had captured Gu Shenwei also returned, placing two bundles on his horse. His haul was not as good as the others, and he was in a bad mood. He walked up to the boy and kicked him hard.

Gu Shenwei curled up in pain. The bandit grabbed the rope binding him and was about to lift him back onto the horse.

At that very moment, Gu Shenwei suddenly understood something. The oilcloth wrapping the book was lying near his eyes, revealing a corner of white silk. Before he was lifted, he opened his mouth and bit onto the corner of the white silk. By the time he was lying on the horse, he had already swallowed the white silk.

The bandits mounted their horses and rode down the mountain.

Near the small village at the foot of the mountain, another bandit was guarding more than a dozen captives and over thirty cattle and sheep. These people's arms were tightly bound and they were chained together. Gu Shenwei was also thrown to the ground, re-bound, and attached to the end of the captive line.

Six bandits drove the captives and livestock eastward. Gu Shenwei struggled to keep up, unable to spit out the white silk in his mouth.

As dawn approached, the bandits stopped at a T-junction. Gu Shenwei felt they were not far from his home, but he rarely left the manor and had no memory of this road.

A dirt road running north to south passed through a narrow mountain pass. After winding for several miles, it merged with the main east-west road. At the intersection, hundreds of people had already gathered.

Most of them wore ragged leather hides, seemingly never washed, glistening with oil under the morning sun. Everyone carried weapons, their eyes fierce, like a pack of wild beasts forced together.

There were clear factions among the bandits; they were divided into several groups, their peripheral vision filled with wariness, their hands always close to their weapons, ready to fight at any moment.

Strangely, the fierce bandits were all crowded on the west side of the intersection. Across the road, in a large open space, not a single person stood, as if ghosts lurked in that empty area.

Even stranger, the bandits were all craning their necks to look north towards the mountain pass, their expressions anxious, as if waiting for someone.

Two hours ago, Gu Shenwei thought he had divine guidance. Now, he had become a bandit's captive, mixed with a group of filthy, panicked men and women.

Among all the captives, Gu Shenwei was actually the dirtiest. Sweat, dust, and ashes coated him, making him look like a human mud sculpture.

Taking advantage of the bandits' inattention, Gu Shenwei spat out the white silk he had been holding for half the morning. He didn't dare to check it, secretly stuffing it into his clothes. He had already been searched once; he hoped there wouldn't be a second time.

The people they were waiting for were long overdue, and the bandits grew increasingly restless, cursing. They were not accustomed to being so close to their peers. Two groups had already started fighting, resulting in several injuries, but thankfully, no deaths.

Gu Shenwei was still somewhat bewildered by his capture. Such a large number of bandits had gathered near the Gu Family Manor. These kinds of people were said to have been wiped out years ago. He glanced up at the bandit who had captured him, hoping to get some information.

The bandit, like the others, wore leather hides even in the summer heat. He was powerfully built, with a thick beard and a dirty face, a scar running across his left cheek.

The scarred bandit noticed the gaze from below and looked down at the boy captive, his eyes cold and merciless. "Run."

Gu Shenwei was certainly not that foolish. He stood amidst the bandits, surrounded by an endless Gobi Desert. Running would be suicide, especially with his hands bound and chained to a group of captives.

"You got the money, why aren't you letting me go?"

Although his tone was firm, Gu Shenwei had already vaguely understood that he, like the other men and women, like the livestock, was just money in the eyes of the bandits.

The scarred bandit spat on the ground. The thick phlegm grazed Gu Shenwei's scalp as it passed. He didn't deign to answer the ignorant boy's question.

An old bandit with a somber gaze sized up the new gang members and captives. "Not much of a haul, Flying Eagle," he suddenly said.

The scarred bandit, called "Flying Eagle," spat again. "A tiger doesn't leave scraps."

Gu Shenwei's heart leaped. "Tiger" had to be the one who annihilated the Gu Family. The bandits clearly knew the details; he had always thought the assassins who destroyed his family were hidden and difficult to track.

His expression must have betrayed his thoughts, as the old bandit glanced at him again but said nothing more, turning his gaze back towards the mountain pass to the north.

Gu Shenwei waited for a while, but no one brought up "Tiger" again. He finally asked himself, "The tiger you follow is no small matter."

The bandit Flying Eagle's lips were sealed, as if he hadn't heard a word. After a long pause, he finally said coldly, "Nonsense. Is there any tiger bigger than the Unrivaled King?"

The Unrivaled King.

No one in the Western Regions didn't know of the Unrivaled King.

Gu Shenwei's heart plummeted. The power of his enemy was far beyond his expectations.