My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

The trees weren't so dense anymore, and you could vaguely see a path worn by people, winding its way forward.

He quickened his pace, with several soldiers following behind.

Emerging from the woods, the view suddenly opened up. The fog had mostly dissipated, and sunlight filtered through gaps in the clouds, warming us on our skin.

The path had turned into a dirt road, and although it was full of potholes, at least you could tell it was a road.

There were some weeds and tree stumps on both sides of the road, indicating that people were active nearby.

The dark-faced man breathed a sigh of relief, stood in the middle of the road, and gasped for air.

"Finally... we've made it out." A soldier slumped to the ground, tears streaming down his face.

Another soldier looked around, then suddenly pointed ahead: "General, there are people over there!"

The dark-faced man looked in the direction he was pointing and, sure enough, saw two figures walking towards him from the other end of the dirt road.

As they got closer, they could see clearly that they were two ordinary people, dressed in coarse cloth, wearing straw hats, and carrying bundles on their shoulders, as if they were on the road.

The dark-faced man frowned.

Where would people come from in this desolate wilderness?

But at that moment, he didn't have time to think too much; all he needed was to ask for directions.

He straightened up, straightened his tattered armor, put on the airs of an official, and strode forward to greet him.

"stop!"

The two people stopped and looked up at him.

Both of them were in their thirties, with ordinary looks, the kind that you wouldn't notice in a crowd.

One of them had a short beard, and the other had a scar on his face.

The dark-faced man glanced at them, his impatience growing. "I'm asking you, which way is the nearest town?"

The man with the short beard didn't speak, he just looked at him.

The scarred man didn't say anything, he just looked at him.

The dark-faced man, somewhat annoyed by the stare, took a step forward and raised his voice: "Are you deaf? This general is asking you a question!"

A soldier caught up and reached out to grab the short-bearded man's collar: "The general is asking you a question, didn't you hear me—"

Before his hand could even touch the other man's collar, the scarred man suddenly moved.

No one saw how he made his move.

With a sharp "crack," the soldier's wrist was broken, and the white bone fragments pierced through the flesh.

Before the soldier could even cry out, Scarface had already grabbed his throat with his other hand and twisted it gently.

"Click."

Another sound.

The soldier lay on the ground like a lump of mud, his neck twisted at an impossible angle, his eyes still open, his mouth still agape, unable to utter a sound.

The remaining three soldiers were so frightened that they retreated repeatedly.

The dark-faced man's expression changed drastically. He placed his hand on the hilt of his knife and stared intently at the two "commoners."

"Who exactly are you people?!"

The man with the short beard finally spoke, his voice neither loud nor soft: "Who we are is unimportant. Who you are, where you come from, and what are you doing in the Ten Thousand Mountains?"

The dark-faced man gritted his teeth and did not answer.

He could tell that these two men were no ordinary people in terms of skill.

That move just now was clean, efficient, and precise; it was at least the work of a martial artist at the Dirty Refinement Realm.

How could someone with such cultivation level dress like this and wander around in the desolate wilderness?

His heart sank; he knew he had met a tough opponent today.

"I am an official appointed by the imperial court, and I have come here to track down a wanted criminal. If you dare to obstruct me, you will be going against the imperial court!"

The man with the short beard laughed, a casual laugh: "An official appointed by the imperial court? People in these remote mountains don't recognize the imperial court."

Without another word, the dark-faced man drew his sword and charged forward.

He was at the early stage of the Marrow Refining Realm, and with the blessing of the Humanity's Luck on his body, ordinary Marrow Refining Realm cultivators were no match for him.

He slashed at the short-bearded man's face with his sword, the blade whistling through the air, fast and ruthless.

The short-bearded man dodged to the side, while the scarred man threw a punch from the side.

The dark-faced man parried with his sword, their fists clashing, the impact making his hands go numb.

He staggered back two steps, steadied himself, and swung his knife again.

The three men were fighting in one place.

Although the dark-faced man was more skilled, he had been traveling for days and was injured, so he was already exhausted.

Although the two scouts were at the peak of their training, they cooperated perfectly, one attacking his upper body and the other his lower body, forcing him to defend himself on all sides.

A soldier mustered his courage, picked up a knife from the ground, and tried to ambush the scarred man from behind.

Without turning his head, the scarred man slapped him in the chest with his backhand.

The soldier coughed up blood, flew backward, and crashed into a tree stump by the roadside, his spine breaking with a "crack".

Another soldier turned and ran, but after only a few steps, a knife flew from the side and pierced his back with a "thud".

The tip of the knife protruded from his chest, stained with blood.

The soldier looked down at the tip of the knife in his chest, opened his mouth, and then collapsed to the ground with a thud.

The dark-faced man turned deathly pale.

He saw the direction from which the knife had come—from the woods by the roadside, another person emerged.

The man was a full head taller than the two scouts, broad-shouldered and thick-waisted, with a face full of fierce flesh, and an empty scabbard hanging at his waist—the knife that had been thrown out was his.

He strode over, each step causing the ground to tremble slightly.

"Second Master!" The short-bearded man and the scarred man simultaneously stopped and retreated behind the man.

The dark-faced man's heart sank to the bottom.

He could sense that this person's cultivation level far surpassed his own.

The aura was so powerful, like a mountain, that it made it hard for him to breathe.

This is neither the Dirty Refining Realm nor the Marrow Refining Realm; this is the peak of Blood Exchange.

He was just one step away from reaching the peak of the Blood Exchange realm of Martial Saint.

"Who are you...?" His voice trembled.

The second-in-command ignored him, only glancing at the corpses on the ground, then at him, and frowning.

"The army? How could there be an army in the Hundred Thousand Mountains?" He turned to the two scouts and asked, "What's going on?"

The man with the short beard quickly replied, "This subordinate doesn't know either."

The second-in-command said "Oh," and then looked at the dark-faced man: "Are you an official?"

The dark-faced man gritted his teeth and did not answer.

He knew he probably wouldn't be able to leave today.

But he still gripped the knife tightly, determined that even if he died, he could not disgrace the imperial court.

The second-in-command didn't ask any more questions. He simply raised his hand and drew another knife from the empty scabbard at his waist.

A flash of light.

Before the dark-faced man could even raise his knife to parry, the knife was already in front of him.

The blade sliced ​​across his throat without encountering any resistance.

He felt a chill on his neck, and then something warm welled up from there.

He looked down to look, but all he saw was his own blood, spurting high and shining brightly in the sunlight.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but only a "ho ho" sound came out of his throat.

Then he collapsed, his eyes still open, staring at the sky he had finally managed to see, which slowly lost its luster.

The last remaining soldier knelt down with a thud, his whole body trembling like a leaf.