Blood-Smeared Grassland

"Hey—are you from the south?"

A burly Di tribesman with a full beard, riding a tall horse, spurred his mount forward and blocked Zhang Sanxian's path. Looking down at him, he asked in stiff official speech:

"A blind man dares pass through Iron Gate Pass and come to the grasslands to trade? What do you want—sheepskins, mare's milk wine, or the divine steeds of our White Sheep Tribe?

"Hahaha!"

At his laughter, the companions who had ridden over with him also burst into jeering laughter, clearly not taking this lone blind "merchant" seriously.

Zhang Sanxian lifted his head and "looked" at the bearded Di man, his voice flat and calm. "I'm not here to trade. I'm only asking for directions."

"Asking for directions?"

The bearded man froze for a moment, then burst into loud laughter again, drawing even more Di people over to watch the spectacle. "Hahahaha! A blind man from the south comes to our White Sheep Tribe to ask for directions? Did you get so lost that you wandered beneath the feet of the Gray Wolf God? Hahaha, what an idiot!"

The surrounding Di men, women, old, and young erupted into unrestrained laughter as well, pointing at Zhang Sanxian with mocking amusement.

"Get back south, blind man."

Once the bearded man had laughed enough, his face darkened as he said coldly, "This isn't a place you should be. If you don't leave now, watch out—you might get trampled into mincemeat."

He deliberately urged his horse closer. The powerful animal snorted loudly, its hooves nearly stepping on Zhang Sanxian's face.

"Noisy."

The two icy words left Zhang Sanxian's mouth.

Clang!

A strand of silver light, condensed to the utmost extreme, suddenly flashed forth.

Fast!

Faster than the limits of thought.

Pfft!

In a single instant, the bearded man and