The stockade wall of the West Cui Mountain bandit stronghold formed a small semicircle. Though there was a square between the middle of the wall and the houses, and crossing it made one easy to spot, it was not as though the wall had no places connected to the houses. Both ends of the wall were built atop mountain rocks, while the stronghold's houses had been constructed against the mountain. As long as one reached the end of the wall, one could follow the shadows into the houses. When Zhang Xiaohua had entered, he had not noticed this. In his rush to save time, he had risked being discovered by crossing the square. On his way back, he had thought even less—he had come from there, so naturally he returned the same way. It had never occurred to him that going by the end of the wall would have kept him completely hidden from the bandits.
Thinking of how he had nearly been discovered while bringing three people through earlier, Zhang Xiaohua silently reminded himself to be more careful in the future, to study the terrain closely, and never make such mistakes again.
After conducting criticism and self-criticism, Zhang Xiaohua did not plan to seek out a new route. The patrolmen might as well not have existed at this point, so why take the long way around? He had painstakingly absorbed his true qi from primal stones; there was no reason to waste it for nothing.
Zhang Xiaohua flipped down and, as before, streaked across the square like a wisp of smoke. Under the reach of his divine sense, no one discovered him.
Following his earlier memories, Zhang Xiaohua returned to where Brother Xu and the other bandits were drinking. As the feast reached its height, everyone wore drunken expressions.