In a quiet mountain forest, the canopy blotted out the sky, shredding the sunlight into fragments that scattered across the thick fallen leaves.
The air reeked of blood mixed with the damp smell of earth, making one want to vomit.
Zhu Yuan leaned against a dead tree. Her strength had reached its limit, and after the bitter battle, even the blade of her longsword was chipped and curled.
Sweat and blood streamed down her cheeks, dripping onto the bodies strewn haphazardly at her feet—some were bandits, and some were her companions.
She did not dare count how many living people remained. Nor did she need to, because she already knew the answer—she was the only one left.
Misty Rain Tower, an organization of assassins and bandits, had slaughtered countless righteous martial artists and harmed innocent civilians for more than a decade.
Not long ago, Qingyi Sect, one of Jiangnan's renowned orthodox schools, had been reduced to ruins overnight.
The imperial court had finally stopped turning a blind eye. Zhu Yuan, Jiangnan's chief constable, had been ordered to suppress them, only to stumble into a trap in this mountain forest.
Hidden weapons fell like rain, and ambushes surged like tides. Zhu Yuan and her team had fallen into a ten-sided encirclement.
The two sides had fought from afternoon until dusk. By now, Zhu Yuan's companions were dead or wounded, while dozens of bandits still surrounded her.
The bandits were in no hurry. Like spectators watching a trapped beast in a cage, they waited for Zhu Yuan to exhaust herself.
After catching her breath for a moment, Zhu Yuan charged forward once more. Since her chances of survival were already slim, she might as well kill a few more bandits.
Of course, no matter how skilled Zhu Yuan was, she could no