Back on the main road, Loa headed east with Wangcai.
This road was a major trade route connecting the Holy Union, the O'Brien Empire, and the surrounding regions, and there were plenty of travelers. Loa mingled with the crowd, walking at an unhurried pace and occasionally taking in the roadside scenery.
Three days later.
A boundary marker stood beside the road, carved with several large words in the common language of the Yulan Continent-O'Brien Empire.
Finally here.
On his very first day on imperial soil, Loa learned what "simple, honest folk" meant.
He had walked less than twenty li when the first band of robbers appeared. Five burly men rushed out of the roadside woods with blades, shouting demands for a toll. Their leader looked Loa over, then glanced at Wangcai beside him, and his eyes lit up-with that bearing and those clothes, this had to be some rich family's young master. Kidnapping him would fetch a hefty ransom.
Then Wangcai moved.
Violet lightning flashed. All five men fell, twitching all over and foaming at the mouth. Before long, they stopped moving.
Loa walked past them without so much as a glance.
The second band came that afternoon. Seven men, two more than the last group.
Wangcai moved again.
All seven fell, twitching even harder than the previous group, then died.
The third band appeared the following morning.
This time, Loa stopped.
Not because of their numbers, but because of their leader-a ninth-level warrior.
A middle-aged man in tattered leather armor stood in the middle of the road, a vicious blade scar across his face and a rust-covered greatsword resting on his shoulder. More than twenty men followed behind him, every one of them fierce-looking.
"Boy." Scar grinned. "Leave your magical beast and everything valuable on you, and I'll