A cluster of crude cottages stands close together, their roofs uneven, their walls patched with bark and rough planks.
A wooden palisade encircles the settlent, sharpened stakes driven deep into the soil.
Beyond it, ancient trees loom, their canopies sealing the camp inside a deep forest where sunlight barely reaches the ground.
rin stands at the forest’s edge.
Behind him are his team mbers.
Further back, a full squadron of city guard fans out silently, encircling the camp in a wide arc.
Armour is dulled.
Weapons are held low.
No banners are raised.
The camp is surrounded.
rin steps closer and stands beside the captain of the city guard squadron, a seasoned officer with a scar running across his cheek.
They speak in low voices.
rin gestures toward the palisade, then to the forest beyond, calmly outlining the approach.
No frontal charge.
No fire.
Seal the exits first.
Take the camp intact.
The captain listens carefully, nodding as rin finishes.
Three days have passed since the northern tribesn left rin’s estate.
Everything that followed unfolded exactly as rin had planned.
The very next day, the Mammoth Tribe formally entered the administrative building of the city and submitted a petition to beco a vassal of the Song Kingdom.
The court, eager to calm the already fragile northern border, processed the request with unusual speed.
Within a single day, the review passed.
The Mammoth Tribe officially beca a vassal of the Song Kingdom.
Protected by Song law, they imdiately filed a formal case regarding the captured won.
Because the northern border had only recently been settled after years of conflict, the court treated the matter with extre seriousness.
Orders were issued.
Ding San was arrested.
So were all the senior leaders of the Black Dog Gang.
However, not all were caught.
A few escaped in the chaos.
Among them was the bald gang mber with the scarred arm.
rin allowed it.
Now, that man is here.
Hidden inside this forest camp.
rin brings his team mbers and a full squadron of city guards forward, closing in on the compound ahead.
He studies the layout with a single glance.
Four watchtowers stand at the four corners of the wooden wall.
Two more flank the main gate.
Six watchtowers in total.
Two guards on each.
“Twelve sentries,” rin says calmly.
“We must take the watchtowers first before storming the compound.”
“And they must be taken out at the sa ti.”
The squadron captain follows rin’s gaze and exhales slowly.
“That will be difficult.”
Before anyone can suggest an alternative—
Fire erupts inside the compound.
Flas leap up from one of the inner structures, licking the night sky.
Shouts explode from within.
“Intruder!”
“Fire!”
“Get inside—now!”
The guards on the watchtowers turn their heads toward the commotion, attention snapping inward.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
rin’s eyes sharpen.
This chance will not co again.
“Attack!” rin shouts.
He bursts from cover, sprinting forward without hesitation.
This is not only about destroying the gang.
There are captives inside.
Rescuing them will bring additional rit.
rin feels nothing stir in his chest at the thought of lives.
His age and cultivation have long stripped such attachnts away.
He acts for the benefit.
Only benefit.
That is the sa mindset that once led him to fall into demonic cultivation—
the sa path that ended with the massacre of Jinji City.
Arrows whistle down from the watchtowers.
rin dodges cleanly, his steps precise.
He slashes mid-run, knocking aside incoming shafts with his sword as sparks fly off the blade.
Near the wall, he plants a foot against the timber and runs upward.
Two quick pulls.
His hands catch the ledges of the watchtower beside the gate.
With a sharp motion, he vaults inside.
His kick lands squarely in the chest of one guard, sending the man flying out of the tower with a broken cry.
rin grabs the second guard instantly, yanking him forward.
Arrows from the opposite gate tower slam into the man’s body instead.
Wood splinters.
Blood sprays.
rin uses the collapsing body as cover, his eyes already shifting toward the next threat as the compound erupts into chaos.
Shouts rise from every direction.
Footsteps pound the ground.
The fire inside the compound crackles louder, painting the night with flickering orange light.
rin’s grip tightens around the dying guard.
His gaze drops for a split second.
A small knife hangs from the man’s waistband.
Without hesitation, rin frees one hand, pulls the knife loose, and snaps his wrist.
The blade whistles through the air.
It is precise.
Cold.
Unavoidable.
The knife buries itself deep into the eye of a guard standing in the opposite watchtower.
The man does not even scream.
He collapses instantly, lifeless, his body slumping against the railing.
The remaining guard freezes in shock.
That mont is enough.
rin shoves the dying guard outward, hurling the body off the watchtower.
Before it even hits the ground, rin is already moving.
He leaps.
His body clears the gap between the towers, landing hard but controlled inside the second watchtower.
The surviving guard reacts late, swinging his weapon wildly.
rin steps aside with chanical precision.
There is no wasted movent.
No hesitation.
His blade flashes once.
The guard’s neck opens in a clean line.
Blood sprays against the wooden wall as the man collapses, hands clutching uselessly at his throat.
rin does not look back.
He moves imdiately.
He cannot release his Dao here.
Not in this body.
Not with this cultivation.
Even in this world, his Dao is sealed.
But the Dao is his.
It is carved into his existence.
He does not need to manifest it to understand battle.
He once released his Dao to amplify himself against beings who were gods to entire worlds.
Compared to those enemies—
Everyone here is nothing.
Ants.
rin steps over the corpse and picks up the fallen crossbow.
He turns.
Below him, the compound is in complete disarray.
Gang mbers rush toward the inner buildings.
City guards pour through the gate.
Steel clashes with steel.
Cries of pain and rage mix together.
rin raises the crossbow.
He fires.
A bolt slams into a man’s throat.
Another shot.
A bolt punches through a chest.
Each pull of the trigger takes a life.
No hesitation.
No missed shots.
rin adjusts his aim with calm efficiency, eliminating targets that threaten the guards or move toward the inner compound.
Then he notices sothing odd.
Among the fighters is a man not wearing guard armour.
He moves with urgency, not discipline.
This man is not part of rin’s team.
He must be the one who set the fire.
rin tracks him instinctively.
Monts later, the man is intercepted by a gang mber.
The gang mber moves fast.
Too fast.
The man is driven back, barely able to defend himself.
Two city guards rush in to help—
And are imdiately overwheld.
Crimson light pulses beneath their skin.
rin reads it at a glance.
The guards and the man are Blood Seal realm, first to third stage.
The gang mber’s crimson glow is deeper.
Fourth to sixth stage.
rin’s eyes narrow.
He lowers the crossbow.
Then he jumps.
The fall from the watchtower is controlled.
He lands, rolls once, and sprints.
He does not care about the man who helped ignite the compound.
That man is irrelevant.
But the city guard captain is there.
If the captain dies—
rin’s rit will be cut.
That cannot happen.
rin closes the distance just as the gang mber raises his weapon to deliver a killing blow.
rin’s sword swings up.
Steel collides with steel.
The impact reverberates through rin’s arm, pressure slamming into his shoulder.
The difference in raw strength is clear.
But strength alone does not decide battles.
rin shifts his footing, rotating his wrist, redirecting the force along the blade.
The pressure bleeds away.
He steps in.
The gang mber snarls and attacks again.
rin moves like a machine.
His sword flashes.
Once.
Twice.
Three tis.
Cuts appear across the gang mber’s body before pain even registers.
Blood sprays.
rin slips inside the man’s guard, twisting his wrist sharply.
The gang mber’s sword flies from his hand.
rin kicks it away without looking.
Then he strikes.
A sharp kick takes the man’s leg out from under him.
The gang mber crashes to the ground.
rin follows him down.
His knee slams onto the man’s neck.
Bone cracks.
The gang mber chokes, hands clawing uselessly at rin’s leg.
rin applies pressure.
Controlled.
Exact.
The man is subdued.
rin looks up, eyes scanning the battlefield again.
The chaos continues.
But the balance has shifted.
Seeing their leader subdued, the remaining gang mbers lose their will to fight.
One by one, weapons fall to the ground.
Hands rise.
Voices crack as they surrender.
The city guards move in swiftly, binding them and securing the compound.
A thorough search begins.
Behind a concealed wooden door, hidden beneath stacked crates and animal hides, a dungeon is discovered.
rin enters first.
The air inside is thick and tallic.
Torches reveal rows of cells carved directly into the earth.
Inside them hang won.
Chains bite into wrists and ankles, suspending their bodies against the stone walls.
Most are unconscious.
All are pale.
rin steps closer.
He studies their bone structure carefully.
Thicker bones.
Denser fras.
Northern tribes.
But he cannot tell which tribe they belong to.
Mammoth or otherwise.
Two tubes pierce each woman.
One feeds a pale, nutritious slurry into their bodies.
The other draws blood steadily into sealed containers.
rin’s eyes harden.
He does not wake them.
Instead, he moves thodically.
One by one, he removes the blood tubes.
Blood drips briefly before he seals the wounds.
He tears cloth into strips and bandages each injury with care.
Then he orders guards to lower the won gently and lay them on makeshift beds fashioned from cloaks and straw.
He sends a ssenger back to the city.
Doctors.
More guards.
Transport wagons.
The fire inside the compound is extinguished.
The forest grows quiet again.
At dawn, rin returns to the inner building.
There, he finds the gang leader dead.
The man slumps against a table.
A glass lies shattered at his feet.
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