Ambush

The evening mist brushed through the forest, carrying a chill with it.

The surroundings were shrouded in heavy fog, and with the trees standing tall and dense, a sense of oppression hung over the caravan.

Chen Mo secretly reached for the hilt of his blade. Although he practiced fist techniques, a fist was never as hard as a blade. In the poor visibility of the night, a single horizontal sweep with a blade would force even a ghost to dodge.

Someone in the caravan coughed, causing the other two guards to panic and draw their blades to scan their surroundings, drawing laughter from the rest of the group.

Only Chen Mo remained vigilant; he had a lingering sense of foreboding.

The team traveled for another half-hour when, suddenly, a rustling sound erupted from the grass in front of the caravan. Immediately after, a dark shadow lunged out from the brush.

The caravan fell into chaos in an instant.

Under the moonlight, the short blade in the shadow's hand moved like a venomous snake, striking toward Li Tu.

Li Tu's expression turned grave. He swung his heavy blade in a horizontal sweep, but the opponent dodged with a nimble leap, rolled on the grass, and closed in on Li Tu's side, thrusting the short blade directly at his throat.

Had he been struck, it would have surely ended in blood staining the forest floor. However, he was, after all, a Ming Jin mid-stage martial artist who had survived dozens of battles, large and small. He immediately switched the heavy blade to his other hand and blocked sideways, causing the opponent's short blade to veer three inches off course, leaving only a bloody gash on Li Tu's arm.

Chen Mo, positioned at the rear of the caravan, saw it clearly.

He understood that these were no mere petty thieves or bandits, but professional killers. Judging by the shadow's movements, he was even half a step more skilled than Li Tu, possessing at least the strength of a Ming Jin mid-stage.

And in Black River Town, only three types of places produced Ming Jin mid-stage experts: noble families, gangs, and martial arts schools.

While he was pondering, another dark shadow lunged out from the grass, heading straight for the rear of the caravan.

Chen Mo shifted his feet to intercept the man. His appearance clearly caused the attacker to pause; it was obvious they hadn't anticipated Chen Mo being among the caravan's guards, having assumed Li Tu was the only Ming Jin present.

Chen Mo raised his blade above his head, channeling all his strength into the hilt before swinging down with force. The opponent blocked with his short blade, producing a crisp, metallic clang.

Blade techniques and fist techniques were not interchangeable, but since breaking through to the Ming Jin realm, Chen Mo's strength had increased significantly. The opponent retreated several steps, his arm numbed by the force of the strike.

In a single exchange, Chen Mo roughly gauged the opponent's strength: a Ming Jin early-stage martial artist.

Two Ming Jin experts blocking the road—they were definitely prepared enemies.

The opponent shook his arm, then leaped into the nearby thicket. Chen Mo instantly understood his intent: to use the complex terrain of the forest to weaken the reach of the heavy blade. But the blade was not what he excelled at most.

Chen Mo did not hesitate and leaped into the forest after him, only to find it filled with thorns and shrubs.

Seeing this, the opponent lunged forward with a leap. The night-traveler suit he wore was surprisingly effective against thorns, and he thrust directly at Chen Mo's face.

In his urgency, Chen Mo jammed his blade into the ground, used it as a pivot, and stomped hard, vaulting his body ten feet into the air and clearing the opponent's head.

After landing, he retrieved his blade and slashed at the opponent's back.

Cold sweat broke out on the opponent's forehead. He turned in a panic and blocked with his short blade, but the immense force sent him stumbling back several steps. He was already looking for an escape.

Chen Mo's expression turned ruthless. Taking advantage of the opponent's unstable footing, he stepped forward and swung his blade down.

The opponent had no way out and was forced to block with his blade again.

Clang!

However, at that very moment, Chen Mo decisively abandoned his blade and threw a sudden punch.

The blade was the feint; the fist was the strike!

The Stone-Crushing Strike grew larger in the opponent's terrified eyes, and then, the world went completely dark.

Under this punch, the man's eyes bulged, and he let out a miserable scream. His short blade dropped to the ground, startling several forest birds into flight.

Chen Mo did not dally. He delivered another punch, this one striking the throat. The opponent collapsed instantly, blood and foul fluids flowing endlessly from the corners of his mouth.

In the world of martial artists, one does not strike unless necessary, but once they do, it is to take a life!

Chen Mo suppressed the nausea in his heart and quickly searched the body, taking some loose silver and two bags that looked like medicinal powder, quietly tucking them into his pocket.

He emerged from the grass to find the other two guards and the caravan members looking at him with great joy, offering expressions of gratitude.

Chen Mo looked toward the other battlefield and saw that Li Tu was already covered in wounds and clearly losing. If this continued for a few more rounds, he would surely be defeated, and Chen Mo might not be able to handle the opponent alone...

After making up his mind, he leaped to the opponent's side and unleashed the Wave-Intercepting Style. The attacker immediately abandoned his assault on Li Tu and raised his arms to block.

Boom!

As the energy surged, both men retreated several steps.

Seeing Chen Mo appear, the attacker knew his companion must have perished. He took one more look at Chen Mo, roughly memorizing his features, before turning and leaping into the dense forest, disappearing from sight.

Once Li Tu confirmed the enemy had left, he slumped to the ground, gasping for air, his martial arts uniform soaked in blood.

The caravan, their nerves finally settling, slowly pulled the formation together, and without realizing it, they all moved a little closer to Chen Mo.

Li Tu weakly cupped his hands toward Chen Mo. "Brother Chen Mo, thank you. You truly have some skills; I was the one who offended you earlier."

Chen Mo waved his hand to show it didn't matter.

The mindset of such martial artists was simple: survival was the ultimate goal. Whoever could help them stay alive would earn their sincere gratitude.

He took out some medicinal powder and bandages, and with the help of the other two guards, performed a simple dressing of the wounds.

Chen Mo suspected that, judging by the style of the short blade the killer carried, it was nine times out of ten the work of the Hansha Gang, but he did not say it aloud, instead asking deliberately:

"Do you know the identity of these killers?"

Li Tu slammed his fist against the ground in anger, nearly tearing the bandages he had just tied. "Looking at the style of that short blade, it must be those bandit pups from the Hansha Gang!"

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

At this moment, a middle-aged man in the caravan responsible for inspecting the goods replied, "It's a grudge against the Zhao Family. It must be the Zhao Family who hired the Hansha Gang to waylay us!"

"The Zhao Family..."

Chen Mo recalled the man in the yellow robe from the Zhao Family yesterday; while he appeared polite to the second son of the Wu Family and Wu Zhiai, he was actually harboring ill intent.

It seems the Wu Family is quite isolated in Black River Town; it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say they are in dire straits... Chen Mo thought to himself.

The caravan rested for a brief moment before preparing to set off again.

"I'll head to the back of the line; it'll be easier to keep an eye out for any sudden situations," Chen Mo said.

Li Tu paused slightly, "Very well, brother, do as you please."

The caravan continued forward in a heavy atmosphere. Chen Mo remained at the rear, while Li Tu, due to his injuries, moved to the middle, and the other two guards walked at the front, trembling.

Chen Mo quietly took out the spoils from the kill he had just made.

After counting, there was about two taels of broken silver. As for the two packets of medicine, he gave them a sniff; one was Yiqi Powder, and the other appeared to be a Blood-Replenishing Pill. Both were common medicines kept by martial artists.

The night grew hazy, but they encountered no further danger for the rest of the journey, and the road remained clear.

Around the hour of the dog, the group caught sight of the faint lamplight of Black River Town. Knowing these were the eternal lanterns of the wealthy households in Black River Town, they realized they were safe from any more assassins and all breathed a sigh of relief.