Chapter 39: Clash on a Narrow Path

The female bandit said, “There have been many people lurking nearby these past few days; we can’t stay here any longer. Let’s leave today.”

Jia Cong heard this and wondered where she intended to take him, though his mind was full of doubts, he had at least saved his life—he could only take it one step at a time.

What worried him most was Zhi Shao; if he vanished for days, Guo Zhi and the two servants would return and everyone would know he’d been kidnapped—how anxious would Zhi Shao be?

These past few days, locked in the cave by the female bandit, he’d either had his hands and feet bound or been knocked unconscious—he hadn’t stepped outside the cave once, couldn’t tell if it was day or night.

The two emerged from the cave; the sky was already dimming, crimson twilight clouds crawling across the western horizon—Jia Cong judged it must be around the hour of You.

It was late winter, days short; by this hour, darkness would fall swiftly.

They descended the mountain path they’d come by, returning to the small grove, both alert to every sound around them.

The bandit needed to conceal her trail, so she was naturally cautious; as for Jia Cong, if he encountered anyone now, even if he spoke, no one would believe why he was unharmed alongside this remnant of the Hidden Gate.

After a few steps, Jia Cong suddenly halted the female bandit, pointing ahead at the snow-covered ground.

One of the black-clad men, Jia Cong had seen before at Shuyun Villa—he was Zhou Jun’s subordinate, who had once colluded with the Prefect of Zhen’an on case investigations.

“Colluding with Hidden Gate remnants—does the Jia family intend to rebel?!”

“If not for seeing it with our own eyes, who would believe the son of the Duke Prefecture could be in league with a Hidden Gate female bandit?”

The female bandit said offhandedly, “There are plenty of wild beasts around here; we encountered hunters when we came—these must be their traps.”

It could bring unwarranted disaster upon the Jia family—he didn’t hold the Jia family in high regard, but now as a Jia son, he and the Jia family were bound together in fortune and ruin.

He told the bandit, “They’ve set a trap—we’re the prey.”

“Isn’t this the Jia Cong of Rongguo Prefecture, the young master who made such a splash at the literary gathering?”

The black-clad man sneered, “Senior Zhou ordered us to patrol these areas in rotation—we thought it was like fishing in the ocean, but fortune smiled on us—my brother and I drew first blood.”

Seeing his movement, the female bandit remained silent, waiting until he finished before they set out again; after walking dozens of steps, just before leaving the grove, two figures suddenly emerged from behind a tree.

The female bandit followed his finger and saw half a black circle protruding from the snow, edged with sharp serrations.

He stood up, glanced around, found the grove utterly silent, felt unease rise—he picked up a thick, short branch, swept away some snow, and covered the exposed part of the trap.

Jia Cong noticed that since the female bandit had closely examined him in the cave, she’d grown far gentler toward him—no longer as fierce as before, no longer randomly knocking him out with her blade’s hilt.

Jia Cong’s heart turned cold—he’d finally run into trouble; the two men’s demeanor made it clear they’d come for them.

Jia Cong’s face turned ashen—running into people was bad enough, but it had to be Zhou Junxing’s men from the Tui Shi Yuan—Zhou Junxing was notorious for fabricating charges; now he’d never cleanse the stain, even if he jumped into the Yellow River.

Jia Cong stepped forward cautiously and saw it was an iron animal trap—if he hadn’t noticed, one foot would’ve been crushed.

The female bandit glanced at him; his words sounded slightly odd.

Before she could think further, she saw Jia Cong turn and run—she felt anger and contempt: cowardly fool, a scholar, no good, child or adult alike.

The black-clad man told his companion, “Go catch that boy—he mustn’t escape; he’s a big fish.”

The man in black was merely a rogue from the martial arts world, casually picked up by Zhou Junxing years ago—he knew his master’s thoughts better than anyone.

For his master, any connection between a martial aristocratic family and the Hidden Gate was like shark scenting blood—perfectly to his taste.

If he helped accomplish this, he’d surely gain even greater favor from his master.

Thinking of this, he drew his long blade, its gleam like a ribbon of light sweeping toward the female bandit.

The female bandit had been slashed from behind on the snow a few days ago—though not fatal, the wound was severe; in just these few days, it surely hadn’t healed—taking her down would save effort.

The black-clad man was strong, his strikes heavy and powerful; the female bandit specialized in nimble, stealthy assassination—open combat was not her strength.

She gritted her teeth and raised both blades to block one strike, but her wound hadn’t healed, her strength diminished—she staggered back two steps, searing pain flared in her left shoulder blade, the wound had split open again.

She forced herself to parry a few more blows; her left shoulder blade’s clothing was soaked through, her movements growing sluggish without her noticing.

The black-clad man slashed upward—she barely dodged, her face veil slit open; had she been a moment slower, her entire face would’ve been ruined.

The black-clad man saw the ragged veil torn away, revealing a face of exquisite beauty—stunning, unforgettable to anyone who saw it.

“I saw you in Dezhou—I never thought you, a fugitive, would dare come to Shenzhou to kill!”

The female bandit spat fiercely, “Wu Jinrong slaughtered over three hundred of the Dezhou Hidden Gate—he deserved to die; Zhou Junxing and you, his hounds—someone will come for your heads soon enough!”

The black-clad man sneered, “Too bad you won’t live to see it.”

He saw her back shoulder was drenched in blood—old wound reopened, significant blood loss—she was at her last gasp; she wouldn’t escape his grasp.

The bandit could no longer fight head-on—she could only dodge and weave among the trees, barely holding on—when a piercing scream echoed from afar.

Both fighters froze in shock; the bandit knew Jia Cong was a weak youth, utterly incapable of resisting a strong man—she assumed he was already dead.

She felt panic—since seeing Jia Cong’s face in the cave, she’d realized a matter of great consequence; she absolutely did not want him harmed.

She took a few steps to distance herself from the black-clad man, then sprinted toward the source of the scream.

But the black-clad man’s face turned pale at the scream—he recognized it as his brother’s, not Jia’s boy’s.

He couldn’t fathom it—how could a defenseless boy emit such a horrific cry?

And this wasn’t just some random brother—he was his own blood brother, born of the same mother, recruited alongside him in Dezhou; his brother was skilled, never a coward.

When the female bandit arrived, she saw an unbelievable sight.

On the ground lay the black-clad man who’d chased Jia Cong—he’d stepped on the trap, one foot crushed, flesh and bone mangled; strangely, his head was also bleeding profusely.

And Jia Cong stood not far away, gripping a thick branch, one end stained with fresh blood.

(End of Chapter)