Chapter 1
A medium-sized caravan moved slowly through the mountains.

Packhorses dragged wooden carts laden with goods, their wooden wheels grinding against the dust, leaving twin ruts in their wake.

A middle-aged guard named Yang Er rode on horseback, his eyes fixed on the gloomy mountain forest. His hand, marked by a long, snaking scar, instinctively reached for the hilt of the saber at his waist.

In peaceful times, the life of a caravan guard or镖师 (Biao Shi -镖 Masters) was easier. Most renowned bandits observed the rules of the martial world, with unspoken conventions followed by both the government and escort agencies.

When 镖师 (Biao Shi -镖 Masters) encountered outlaw "heroes," they would announce their affiliation, present a small gift, and be allowed safe passage through treacherous mountain passes, ensuring the safety of their employer's goods.

But times were difficult and chaotic. The government was busy suppressing rebellions and had no power to deal with bandits in remote areas.

Worse, constant war, droughts, and locust plagues created large numbers of displaced people with nowhere to go.

Some bandits took the opportunity to gather the strong and able-bodied among the refugees, forming large and powerful groups in the mountains.

These people did not abide by the rules.

Yang Er slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, a nagging feeling that the scar on the back of his hand was beginning to tingle and ache again.

Suddenly, the sound of snapping branches and trampling feet echoed from the deep mountains on both sides. Dozens of shadowy figures surged down the slopes.

They had encountered bandits.

The caravan's manager, drivers, and peddlers turned pale, their legs trembling.

The packhorses seemed to sense the danger as well, neighing restlessly.

Yang Er's expression changed drastically. He raised two fingers and let out a sharp whistle.

The other nine caravan guards immediately took down their bows and arrows, their faces tight as they warily watched the mountain forests on either side.

The enemy was concealed, and they were exposed. The bandits on the mountains could easily wipe out these unarmored 镖师 (Biao Shi -镖 Masters) and guards with a few volleys of arrows.

The only reason they hadn't fired was probably because they had their eyes on the 镖师 (Biao Shi -镖 Masters)' fine horses.

Yang Er steadied his mind and shouted loudly, "May I ask which heroes are on the mountain? I am from Pingyuan Escort Agency of Weng Prefecture, Lu Commandery. We are new to this area and have come to pay our respects to all our friends. In our haste, we have nothing to offer, but please allow us a few days to prepare a generous gift and pay our respects at your mountain gate."

Several mounted bandits rode forward from the mountain road ahead. The leader was a short, stocky man with shifty eyes, wearing a tattered leather armor and holding a cleaver in his hand. He had a high, broad forehead, sparse and messy teeth, and bloodshot eyes that bulged out like a fish.

The short, stocky man stared straight at Yang Er, waved the cleaver in his hand, spat a mouthful of phlegm on the ground, and said fiercely, "Pay respects my ass! I don't buy that crap.

Either drop your weapons and leave behind everything of value,

Or die."

"..."

Yang Er glanced at the trembling, helpless caravan manager and bit his lip. There were only ten guards in this caravan, and the others were ordinary civilians who had never held a weapon.

And there were at least thirty bandits on the mountains on both sides.

Even if they dropped their weapons as the bandits said, they would probably still die in the end.

No one spoke. The scene fell silent for a moment.

Yang Er vaguely saw an arm hanging on the side of the short, stocky man's horse.

A human arm, roasted.

Hooves trampled the ground. Yang Er gripped the hilt of his saber tightly, and several guards silently drew back their bowstrings.

"Hmph, you refuse a toast only to be forced to drink a forfeit."

The short, stocky bandit licked his dry, cracked lips, revealing his teeth, the gums almost entirely black with decay. He waved the cleaver in his hand fiercely. "Attack!"

This shout seemed to be a signal. Dozens of crude wooden arrows, some even without fletching, shot out from the mountain forest.

Although scattered, the arrows still had enough power to kill, thanks to the high ground.

The wooden arrows fell with dull thuds. Fortunately, the terrified caravan drivers and peddlers had already taken the opportunity to crawl under the carts.

A volley of arrows only wounded two or three packhorses.

Yang Er no longer hesitated. He drew his longbow to its full extent and shot an arrow at the short, stocky man.

The iron arrow cut through the air with a gust of wind.

Just as the arrow was about to pierce the man's simple leather armor, penetrate his flesh, and take his life,

Yang Er saw the corners of the short, stocky man's mouth turn up in a sinister smile.

The arrow struck the dilapidated leather armor and made contact with the skin,

But with a clang, all its kinetic energy was instantly lost, and it fell limply to the ground,

As if the arrow had struck not human flesh, but a bronze bell.

?!

Yang Er's eyes widened. He had no time to think about why the man was immune to arrows.

His body was already driven by instinct. He slapped the horse's belly with the flat of his blade, urging the horse to gallop forward.

He charged toward the short, stocky bandit, his saber raised high, ready to cleave the bandit's head in two!

"Clang!"

The sound of metal clashing rang out again. Still charging forward, Yang Er felt a lightness in his hand. He looked back and saw

The gleaming blade spinning in mid-air. The saber, forged from strong iron, was broken, leaving only the hilt.

And the short, stocky bandit was still sitting calmly on horseback, reaching out to touch his neck where the blade had just grazed.

The dirty neck, which hadn't been washed in ages, only had a faint white mark, which disappeared with a gentle rub.

"Heh heh."

The bandit chuckled softly, ignoring the sounds of fighting and shouting around him. He looked down at the roasted arm placed on the side of his horse. "This Undying Golden Body spell bestowed by the White Lotus Master is really useful..."

Several months ago, the bandit Hu Wan was just a prisoner who had committed a crime and was about to be exiled to the border.

A plague that swept through the prefectures and counties

Impartially killed countless officials, nobles, and commoners.

It also killed the two guards escorting him,

Allowing him to escape into the mountains and gather a band of followers.

One day, two beautiful young women dressed in white skirts, ethereal and otherworldly, rode white horses slowly through the mountains.

Hu Wan, a bandit by trade, was aroused by their beauty and could not restrain himself.

He immediately gathered his men and went down the mountain, determined to capture the two women.

Unexpectedly, the two women treated the bandits as if they were nothing. With a wave of their sleeves, they unleashed countless golden needles that pierced the heads of the bandits who had surrounded them with lewd smiles.

Just when Hu Wan thought he was about to be killed by the hidden golden needles,

The women spared his life, claiming to be emissaries of the White Lotus, sent to convert Hu Wan.

This so-called conversion involved bestowing a scroll of illustrated scripture.

According to the scripture, as long as one practiced this method, one would become invulnerable to swords and spears, impervious to water and fire, like the Undying Golden Body of the Buddhist faith.

And one of the main methods of practice was to eat one's own kind.

Heh.

Thinking of this, Hu Wan couldn't help but find it amusing.

The droughts and locust plagues across the land had lasted for several years.

Countless bodies were exposed in the wilderness, and no chickens crowed for miles.

Countless people had fled to other places, eating bark, grass roots, and even selling their children to survive, engaging in cannibalism.

Eating one's own kind was nothing.

Hu Wan had already seen it, tasted it, and even savored it carefully when he was a refugee...

His thoughts drifted back to reality.

Hu Wan, confident in his invulnerable body, slowly raised his head and belatedly realized that

The sounds of fighting around him had ceased at some point.

No more arrows were being fired from the mountains on either side.

On the narrow mountain road, only bandits wielding cleavers, guards at a loss, and the caravan members cowering under the wooden carts remained.

A deathly silence enveloped the mountain forest. Even though it was still a sunny afternoon, an unusually cold aura spread and permeated the air.

A young man in a black robe walked slowly down from the mountain.