Though the three had given up flying on swords, they had another way. Flying consumed a great deal of True Essence, but if they merely channeled it into their feet, the amount used was negligible.
Much like the lightness skills of the mortal world, the three leaped back and forth through the tall trees lining the main road, covering over ten meters in the blink of an eye.
Ouyang carried Hu Tutu on his back. Beside him, Leng Qingsong was clearly unused to traveling on foot like this. He usually flew everywhere, and suddenly having to use his feet left him almost unsure how to walk. After a little adjustment, however, he managed to follow behind Ouyang.
The two leaped onward through the trees when shouts of battle suddenly rang out ahead.
Ouyang frowned, not wanting to get involved.
As mentioned before, cultivators should not lightly entangle themselves in the karma between mortals. It did their cultivation no good whatsoever.
Before Ouyang could speak, Leng Qingsong had already charged past him.
Young after all. The moment he encountered injustice, he drew his sword and acted, without any regard for the consequences.
Before Ouyang could even open his mouth to call him back, Leng Qingsong had drawn his sword and plunged downward. Ouyang shifted his hands beneath Hu Tutu's bottom and followed.
Ouyang landed on a branch and looked down.
The two sides below had already been fighting for a long time. People lay everywhere, their fates unknown.
It was plain enough that one side consisted of masked bandits dressed in coarse hemp cloth, while the other wore matching guards' training uniforms.
Though the guards were well equipped and skilled fighters, they were outnumbered, with only twenty-odd men, and also had to divide their attention to protect the carriages behind them.