The night was black as ink, so thick it would not dissolve. The mountain wind wailed through the silence, like countless wronged souls crying out their grievances.
Though the bandits had been executed, the escort agency had suffered devastating losses and many injuries. Their plans to continue onward had to be put on hold.
A heavy, oppressive air hung over the camp. The wounded escorts' pained groans rose intermittently, mingling with the bleakness of the night.
Zhang Ling'er stood alone beneath the Ancient Locust Tree at the edge of camp. Moonlight struggled through gaps in its foliage, casting dappled shadows across her lovely face and making her expression seem all the colder and graver.
"Escort Chief Wang," she called softly. Quiet though her voice was, it carried far through the still night.
Not far away, Wang Tieshan was wiping his bloodstained, thick-backed saber. The blood on its blade had dried into dark red patches that gave off a murderous chill beneath the moonlight.
Hearing her, he raised his head. The chief escort who had commanded such authority in the Might-Defending Escort Agency for years now looked considerably older. Beneath the moonlight, the wrinkles on his forehead seemed carved by a blade, each telling of the ravages of time and the exhaustion of this day.
During the bandits' fierce assault that afternoon, he had briefly considered abandoning his employer. Though the appearance of the Cultivator Jing Wen had later turned the tide, he could not help feeling guilty as he faced Zhang Ling'er now.
"What are your orders, miss?" He tried to keep his voice calm, but the slight tremor at the end betrayed his unease.
Zhang Ling'er did not answer immediately. Instead, she slowly turned to look at the silent carriage nearby.
No lamp burned inside its pitch-black compartment, but