The rhythmic clopping of the horse's hooves echoed through the vast, sun-drenched valley, reverberating against the towering cliffs that flanked the terrain on both sides.

  Ji Wuye sat tall and poised in the saddle, his long, white hair dancing in the gentle breeze like a billowing curtain. His crimson eyes, intense yet focused, remained fixed on the road ahead, unflinching in the golden light that bathed the landscape.

  With a steady hand, he held the reins firmly, neither yanking them too harshly nor allowing them to go slack. His white martial robe flowed behind him like a rippling stream, the fabric caressing his frame with every stride of the horse.

  A slight furrow creased his brow as he calculated the journey ahead. 'It should probably take three, maybe four days at most,' he thought.

  Ruoshui Camp, a well-known waypoint for travelers coming from the Tibetan lands before making their final approach into Qinghai, loomed in the distance.

  However, before reaching that crucial stop, an obstacle lay in wait – the boundary separating Qinghai from the Tibetan province, a fortified pass known....

  'Zhenan Pass,' Ji Wuye mused, his grip tightening ever so slightly on the reins as he urged his steed into a faster trot.

  The powerful muscles of the horse rippled beneath him, responding to his subtle commands with unwavering obedience.

  Zhenan Pass, a military fort built by the Western Xia to safeguard their strategic interests in the Qinghai region, had recently sent an urgent call for reinforcements to Kunlun, just as Ruoshui Camp had done.

  The reason for this call was the ever-increasing threat of Dungeons, which had been continuously releasing strange and dangerous creatures into the region, wreaking havoc on the local populace. 'By the time I reach Zhenan Pass, it'll already be the 10th floor,' Ji Wuye thought.

  Suddenly, a series of blinding bluish flashes erupted ahead on the dirt road, causing Ji Wuye to pull back sharply on the reins, the horse reared back in alarm.

  "For fuck's sake! That really hurt!"

  Another voice joined in, laced with a mixture of relief and residual fear. "That damned spirit! Lucky for us, it was in that greenish form—if not, we'd be dead!"

  Ji Wuye's crimson eyes narrowed as a group of rugged-looking men materialized on the road before him, their forms shimmering into existence from the blinding bluish flashes.

  Their clothes, tattered and crafted from weathered leather, bore the scars of countless battles. Worn sabers hung at their sides, the blades nicked and scratched from years of use.

  Most of the men sported long, unkempt locks that danced wildly in the breeze, but one stood out with a closely shaven head, his scalp glistening in the sunlight.

  A burst of raucous laughter erupted from the group, the sound echoing off the towering cliffs that flanked the valley.

  "Hah! Brother Wen, you actually made it through too!" One of the figures grinned, his scarred face contorting with amusement as he delivered a hearty punch to the arm of the man beside him.

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  "Cut the crap!" Brother Wen snarled, smacking the offending hand away with a sharp glare. "I thought you'd be dead by now, you bastard," he spat, the words landing like a warning as he punctuated them with a glob of spittle on the dusty ground.

  "Damn you, Wen Shan! You ate my food last night, didn't you?!" Another flash of light heralded the sudden arrival of yet another people, his form materializing in a burst of energy.

  He barely had time to steady himself before pointing an accusatory finger at Wen Shan, his face twisted in outrage.

  Wen Shan snorted dismissively, his tone smug and unapologetic. "What of it? You think I'd let good meat go to waste? Should've eaten faster, fool."

  "You—!"

  "Enough!" A deep, commanding voice cut through the bickering like a sharp blade, silencing the group. The latest arrival stood taller than the rest, the weighty presence of his lamellar armor making him appear even more imposing.

  His piercing, sharp eyes swept across the group with an air of authority before settling on Ji Wuye, who sat astride his horse with an air of composed detachment.

  "We've got company," the larger man declared, his voice rumbling like distant thunder.

  Following the leader's gaze, the group turned as one toward Ji Wuye, their eyes narrowing as they took in the sight of the solitary rider.

  For a fleeting moment, many of the rugged men were visibly stunned by Ji Wuye's striking appearance. His handsome and dignified features, coupled with his well-tailored attire, lent him an almost unearthly presence as he sat poised atop his steed.

  Then, one of the men broke the silence, a sly smile spreading across his weathered face as he began circling Ji Wuye's horse, a saber already clutched in his calloused hand.

  His gaze was drawn to the hanging bag secured to the saddle, curiosity piqued, but his eyes quickly widened in surprise. He had noticed the unmistakable gleam of numerous jians strapped to the bag, their blades catching the sunlight in a mesmerizing dance.

  Hastily stepping back to stand in front of the horse, the man shifted his demeanor, cupping his hands in a polite gesture that contrasted starkly with his earlier bravado. "Greetings, Young Master," he said, a hint of deference creeping into his tone.

  "May I ask who this gentleman might be?" Wen Shan interjected, raising his voice as he too cupped his hands in greeting, though his sharp eyes traced over Ji Wuye's white martial robe with dark blue stripes, searching for clues.

  A detail immediately caught his attention—the strange, tranquil composure of this man. This handsome stranger was too calm, too relaxed, in the face of their rowdy band.

  Taking stock of Ji Wuye, they instinctively adjusted their behavior. They acted polite—choosing decorum over aggression—but their hands remained tense, hovering near the weapons resting at their waists, ready to defend themselves if necessary.

  "Brothers," Ji Wuye's lips curled into a faint, enigmatic smile as he dismounted his horse with deliberate ease. He cupped his hands politely and asked, "Before anything else, may I know who you gentlemen are?"

  It was obvious from their mismatched attire, weapons, and armor—none of it consistent with a single faction or purpose—that they were not a cohesive unit. Their arm guards didn't match, they had no horses nearby, and not so much as a single caravan in sight.

  Not only that—it was common sense to introduce oneself first before asking for someone else’s name. Which meant...

  Bandits.

  Though he couldn't accuse them outright, not when they were making an effort to act polite and cautious in his presence. 'But they do make a perfect target,' he mused inwardly, noting the flicker of conflict on their faces beneath their forced smiles.

  On the other hand, from the perspective of the bandits, Ji Wuye's calm demeanor, coupled with his enigmatic smile, his strikingly handsome features, and the pristine white martial robe flowing elegantly against his muscular frame—all of it felt...unsettling.

  Add to that the confident yet unassuming tone in his voice, and it was enough to make them wary.

  "This guy...something about him isn't right," one of them whispered, inching a little farther back to create distance between them, his fingers twitching nervously near the hilt of his blade.

  "Shit, is he some Young Master from a noble clan?" another murmured under his breath, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Ji Wuye while exchanging uneasy glances with his companions.

  Technically, someone like Ji Wuye—traveling alone, without even a single guard in sight—should have been an easy target. He looked like the perfect mark.

  A small band of bandits like them could easily kidnap him, demand a hefty ransom from his family, and flee before anyone could catch them.

  But for some reason, an unsettling feeling crept over them, raising the hairs on the back of their necks. Those crimson pupils, calm yet piercing, seemed to look right through them, and it made their blood run cold.

  They hesitated, an inexplicable instinct stirring within each of them—a silent, unshakable warning that something about this man was far more dangerous than he appeared.

  Eventually, all of them turned to look at their leader, the man with the close-shaven head.

  "Boss, what should we do now?" Wen Shan muttered anxiously, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his saber, the leather creaking under the strain.

  The shaven-headed leader narrowed his eyes, studying Ji Wuye intently for a moment. Then, as if coming to some internal decision, he strode forward decisively.

  "Boss?" The bandits were caught off guard by their leader's sudden movement, exchanging uncertain glances as they hesitated. But seeing his determination, they hurriedly fell into step behind him, hands tightening on their weapons as they prepared for whatever might come next.

  But before any tension could escalate further, the shaven-headed man halted abruptly. To the surprise of his men, he cupped his calloused hands, "It's Master Ji! Greetings!"