Chapter Twelve: Ambushed

The evening breeze swept through the woods, carrying a chill.

Dense fog hung all around, and with the trees towering overhead and the forest stretching deep, a feeling of oppression settled over the entire caravan.

Chen Mo's hand crept toward the hilt of his saber. Though he practiced fist techniques, even the hardest fist was no match for a blade. With visibility poor at night, one sweep of a saber could make even ghosts dodge.

Someone in the caravan coughed. Two other guards immediately drew their sabers and looked around in alarm, drawing laughter from the others.

Only Chen Mo remained on guard. He had a nagging sense that something was wrong.

The group traveled for another half hour. Suddenly, rustling came from the grass ahead of them. The next moment, a dark figure shot out of the undergrowth.

The caravan fell into chaos at once.

Beneath the moonlight, the short blade in the figure's hand slithered like a venomous snake as he lunged to kill Li Tu.

Li Tu's expression turned grave. He swung his great saber sideways, but his opponent leaped over the attack like a fish, rolled across the grass, and closed in at Li Tu's side. His short blade stabbed straight for Li Tu's throat.

If it struck, the forest would be stained with blood. But Li Tu was, after all, a Ming Jin mid-stage martial artist who had weathered dozens of battles, large and small. He immediately switched hands on his saber and brought the blade up to deflect the attack. The short blade veered three inches aside, leaving a bloody gash on Li Tu's arm.

At the end of the caravan, Chen Mo saw everything clearly.

He knew this was no petty thief or bandit, but a proper assassin. Judging by the figure's skill, he might even be a little stronger than Li Tu—at least a Ming Jin mid-stage fighter.

And in Black River Town, Ming Jin mid-stage fighters could be found in only three places: lineages, gangs, and martial arts schools.

As he was thinking, another dark figure burst from the undergrowth and charged straight for the rear of the caravan.

Chen Mo darted a few steps and intercepted him. His sudden appearance made the attacker hesitate. Clearly, they hadn't expected Chen Mo to be among the caravan's escort. They'd thought Li Tu was the only Ming Jin fighter.

Chen Mo raised his saber over his head, channeled all his strength into the hilt, and brought it down with all his might. His opponent raised his short blade to block, and the weapons rang out with a clear clang.

Saber techniques and fist techniques didn't complement each other, but ever since breaking through to Ming Jin, Chen Mo's strength had grown considerably. His opponent staggered back several steps, his arm numb from the shock of the blow.

From that single exchange, Chen Mo had roughly gauged his opponent's strength: a Ming Jin early-stage martial artist.

Two Ming Jin fighters lying in wait to rob them meant this was a grudge match, carefully planned.

The opponent shook out his arm, then leaped into the woods nearby. Chen Mo instantly understood his intention: use the tangled terrain to blunt the great saber's power. But the weapon wasn't Chen Mo's specialty.

Without hesitation, Chen Mo leaped into the woods after him, only to find the ground choked with thorny brush.

Seeing this, his opponent sprang at him like a fish. His night clothes were apparently resistant to thorns, and he thrust straight at Chen Mo's face.

In the nick of time, Chen Mo plunged his saber into the ground, braced himself against the hilt, and stamped hard with both feet. His body flipped and twisted ten feet into the air, passing right over his opponent.

After landing, he snatched up his saber and slashed at the man's back.

Cold sweat streamed down his opponent's face. He hurriedly spun around and raised his short blade to block, but the tremendous force drove him back several steps. By now, he was already thinking of fleeing.

Chen Mo's face hardened. While the man was still finding his footing, Chen Mo stepped forward and brought his saber down.

His opponent had nowhere to retreat, so he raised his blade to block again.

Clang!

But just then, Chen Mo decisively abandoned his saber and abruptly threw a punch.

The saber was a feint; the fist was real!

The Stone-Crushing Strike filled his opponent's terrified eyes. Then darkness swallowed everything.

The punch sent his eyes bulging from their sockets, and he let out a scream. His short blade clattered to the ground, startling several birds from the trees.

Chen Mo didn't hesitate. He followed with another punch, striking the man in the throat. His opponent crumpled to the ground, blood and revolting fluids pouring from the corner of his mouth.

In the martial world, once a fighter struck, he struck to kill!

Chen Mo forced down the nausea rising in his gut and quickly searched the man, finding some broken silver and two pouches of what looked like medicinal powder. He quietly slipped them into his pocket.

He emerged from the undergrowth. The other two guards and the caravan workers looked overjoyed and sent him grateful glances.

Chen Mo looked toward the other fight. Li Tu had already sustained several wounds and was clearly at a disadvantage. If the fight lasted a few more exchanges, he was sure to lose—and even then, Chen Mo might not be able to take down the other opponent alone...

After deciding what to do, he leaped to the man's side and unleashed the Wave-Intercepting Style. His opponent immediately abandoned his attack on Li Tu and raised both arms to block.

Thud!

The force surged between them, and both men staggered back several steps.

Seeing Chen Mo, the opponent must have realized that his companion was dead. He took another look at Chen Mo, committing his face to memory, then turned and leaped into the dense forest, vanishing from sight.

Once Li Tu confirmed the opponent had fled, he slumped to the ground and gasped for breath. Blood had soaked his martial outfit.

The caravan slowly gathered itself after the shock. Without realizing it, everyone edged a little closer to Chen Mo.

Li Tu weakly cupped his fists toward Chen Mo. "Brother Chen Mo, thank you. You've got real skill. I was out of line earlier."

Chen Mo waved a hand to show that it was nothing.

Martial artists like him had simple priorities: staying alive was their capital, and whoever helped them stay alive earned their sincere gratitude.

He took out some medicinal powder and bandages, then applied the medicine and wrapped the wounds with help from the other two guards.

Chen Mo figured that, judging by the style of the assassins' short blades, they were most likely members of the Hansha Gang. But he didn't say so outright. Instead, he deliberately asked:

"Do you know who those assassins were?"

Li Tu angrily pounded the ground, nearly bursting open the bandages he had just tied. "Judging by those short blades, they must've been those bandit brats from the Hansha Gang!"

Chen Mo asked in confusion, "Does the Wu Family have a grudge against the Hansha Gang?"

At that moment, a middle-aged man from the caravan who was in charge of inspecting the goods answered, "They have a grudge against the Zhao Family. The Zhao Family must've hired the Hansha Gang to waylay us!"

"The Zhao Family..."

Chen Mo recalled the yellow-robed man from the Zhao Family yesterday. He had seemed polite to the Wu Family's second son and Wu Zhiai, but beneath the courtesy, he'd harbored ill will.

It seems the Wu Family is all alone in Black River Town. They're in dire straits, to say the least...

The caravan rested briefly, then prepared to set off.

"I'll go to the back of the group again. That way, I can keep an eye out for anything unexpected," Chen Mo said.

Li Tu paused, then replied, "All right. Do as you please, brother."

The caravan continued onward in a tense atmosphere. Chen Mo stayed at the rear, while Li Tu, injured, moved to the middle. The other two guards walked at the front, trembling with fear.

Chen Mo quietly took out what he'd obtained from the man he'd just killed.

He counted about two taels of broken silver. As for the two packets of medicine, he sniffed them. One was Yiqi Powder, and the other seemed to be a Blood-Replenishing Pill. Both were common medicines that ordinary martial artists kept on hand.

The night was hazy, but they encountered no further danger along the way, and the rest of the journey went smoothly.

Around the hour of the Dog, they spotted the faint lights of Black River Town. They knew the lights came from the ever-burning lanterns of the town's wealthy families. At this point, they shouldn't run into any more assassins, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.