As they strolled through the vibrant streets of Blossom City, the atmosphere buzzed with both anticipation and skepticism. Whispers followed them like shadows, and curious gazes trailed their every move. The sun gleamed off the cobblestones, creating a stark contrast to the luxurious agency they finally approached—an elegant building that served as the escort merchant agency. Inside, it was a hive of activity, alive with the raucous voices of grizzled mercenaries exchanging war stories, nervous traders haggling over prices, and the occasional cultivator seeking opportunities for quick coin.
Long Huang walked in exuding his characteristic lazy confidence, his posture relaxed yet purposeful, as if he belonged to the very fabric of the agency. In stark contrast, Zhao Gun followed closely behind, his demeanor dark and brooding, like a storm cloud casting a shadow over the room.
Suddenly, a guard stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest. "Name and affiliation, and the reason for being here," he prompted, his voice firm but professional.
"Long Huang and Zhao Gun, from the Azure Lotus Sect," the duo replied in unison. "We're here for the escort mission," Long Huang added, a casual smile on his face.
"Very well, you may enter," the guard said, trying to maintain his impassive facade. However, inwardly, he was astonished; he recognized both of them, particularly Long Huang, whose remarkable transformation captivated him.
As they entered the bustling interior, the lively chatter abruptly ceased, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.
Eyes darted toward them—some filled with curiosity, others with skepticism. Groups of disciples from the prestigious Xin, Zhao, and Cheng families exchanged whispers behind their hands, their glances directed at Long Huang, mixing disbelief with a hint of amusement.
"Him? He took the bandit mission?" one whispered incredulously.
"That's the guy with the ordinary-grade bloodline, right? What's he even thinking?" another chimed in.
"Yeah, and why is young master Zhao with him?" a third added, disbelief tinged with judgment.
Zhao Gun's jaw tightened at their remarks, fully aware that this reaction was inevitable. The mission clerk, a wiry man with ink-stained fingers and a look of perpetual concentration, squinted at the slip Long Huang handed him. His eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"You're the one who accepted the Black Raven Pass job?" he asked incredulously.
Long Huang grinned wider. "Yep. Got a problem with that?"
The clerk hesitated but then shrugged, a flicker of cynicism in his eyes. "It's no skin off my back if you get yourself killed." He slid a map across the counter, the parchment worn and creased. "Just so you know, bandits have been hitting caravans hard lately. Rumor has it their leader is a real monster—cruel, cunning, and ruthless."
A few nearby mercenaries snorted, eyebrows raised in disbelief.
"Kids, you sure you're up for this?" one of them called out; he was a scarred veteran with a hardened face and a missing ear, a testament to his brutal past. "Even a seasoned team would think twice about this."
"And young master Zhao, don't you think your reputation is going to take a hit if you're seen traipsing around with this pretty boy?" the man laughed, a mocking glint in his eye.
Zhao Gun crossed his arms, irritation etching lines of frustration across his face. "This is ridiculous. You really expect me to stake my reputation on—"
Long Huang cut him off with a dismissive wave, plucking the map from the counter with a casual flick. "Relax, Zhao Gun. I didn't drag you here kicking and screaming. You tagged along because you couldn't bear the thought of me getting all the glory."
Zhao Gun's eye twitched in irritation, but he held his tongue. Sensing the rising tension in the air, the clerk cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the situation. "Look, if you're serious about this, the caravan leaves at dawn. But fair warning—the last group that attempted this mission returned… let's just say they were missing limbs."
Long Huang casually pocketed the map, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Sounds fun," he replied, his voice light, yet a gleam of determination shone through. The stakes were high, but for him, the thrill of the challenge was worth it.
As they stepped back outside, Zhao Gun grabbed Long Huang's arm. "Are you trying to get us killed?" he hissed. "You heard them. That mission is suicide for someone at your level."
Long Huang tilted his head. "Oh? And what level is that?"
Zhao Gun's lip curled. "You've barely entered the Meridian Tempering Realm, and your bloodline is—" He stopped abruptly, but the implication lingered in the air.
Ordinary. Worthless, in the eyes of most cultivators.
Long Huang's smile didn't waver. "Funny. I seem to remember you volunteering to come along." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a mocking whisper. "Unless, of course, the great Young Master Zhao is scared?"
Zhao Gun recoiled as if he'd been burned. "I am not scared!"
"Prove it."
For a long moment, they stood there, the tension between them sharp enough to cut. Finally, Zhao Gun scoffed and turned away.
"Fine. But when this goes wrong, don't expect me to save you."
Long Huang chuckled, watching him storm off. "Oh, Zhao Gun," he thought. "You have no idea what's coming."
The two then spent the night at a nearby inn.
The morning sun cast long shadows as Long Huang and Zhao Gun stood at the edge of Black Raven Pass, the bandit-infested canyon looming before them like the maw of some great beast. Behind them, the merchant caravan huddled together, their nervous whispers carried away by the wind.
"Do you really think the young masters of the Azure Lotus Sect can protect us?" someone in the caravan group asked.
Just then a group of bandits appeared " Follow us if you don't want to die" said a bandit. The caravan leader came up to the duo and asked " What should we do yound heroes "
"Just follow them I have a plan "said Long Huang with a smile.The caravan leader although doubtful followed Long Huang's words .
Zhao Gun's lip curled as he surveyed the narrow path ahead. "Well?" he sneered, fingers drumming against the hilt of his ornate sword. "What's your grand strategy, oh mighty Grass Snake? Or did you drag me here just to watch you trip over your own robes?"
Long Huang scratched his chin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Hmm. I was thinking… we walk in and beat them up?"
Zhao Gun's eye twitched. "That's not a strategy! That's—"
But Long Huang was already strolling forward, whistling a jaunty tune as they neared the bandits' stronghold.
"Hey, fellas!" Long Huang waved. "You know, life's short. Have you considered… not being bandits?"
The bandits—a ragged bunch of scarred, weapon-wielding thugs—blinked in disbelief as this random disciple waltzed into their camp as if he owned the place. The largest of them, a brute with an axe the size of a door, stepped forward and cracked his knuckles. "Kid," he growled, "you got a death wish?"
Long Huang sighed. "See, this is why I hate small talk."
Then he moved. No grand martial art, just rare battle instinct and experience. Long Huang first decapitated the large bandit, causing him to drop to the ground.
"So who's next?" Long Huang said, his emerald eyes glazing with battle intent.
"Seems like the pretty boy has some strength," said one of the bandits. "Let us show him that we don't fight fair," the thug said with an evil grin. Seeing the bandits approach, Long Huang smiled and replied, "It's your funeral."
"Don't get cocky, boy," one bandit warned.
Just then, the caravan leader exclaimed, "Young hero Zhao, aren't you going to help Young Master Long fight the bandits?"
"Why should I help that waste? He caused this mess by rushing in like a fool without a plan," Zhao Gun replied arrogantly.
As the bandits closed in, Long Huang's calm smile morphed into a focused glare, his eyes narrowing with a fiery intensity. The atmosphere around him crackled with energy, the kind of energy that sent shivers down the spines of even the most hardened criminals. He could feel the doubt filtering through the ranks of the bandits, but their leader's jeering words struck a nerve.
"Don't be scared, brothers," the leader called out, waving his sword like a toy. "He's just one kid who barely came out of his mother's womb!"
The mockery hung in the air like a heavy fog, but for Long Huang, it felt like a slap. The taunt ignited something fierce within him—a whirlwind of emotions he thought he had buried long ago. Memories of abandonment, loneliness, and a desperate longing for acceptance surged to the forefront of his mind, fueling his rage.
With a fierce snarl, he unleashed his battle intent like a tidal wave, the very ground beneath him trembling in response. "How dare you speak of my mother!" he roared, his voice echoing with the weight of his pain and fury. The bandits faltered, momentarily taken aback by the ferocity that radiated from this figure that looked like he was a boy toy for rich women pleasure.
Long Huang dropped his sword and sprang into action, the pain of his past morphing into a lethal weapon as he charged forward. He moved with a primal grace, a blur of motion that took the bandits by surprise. With each strike, he poured every ounce of his anguish into his fists, each blow carrying the weight of his unresolved feelings. He dodged and weaved through their ranks, a whirlwind of focused ferocity.
One bandit swung a crude axe, believing he could intimidate the boy. Long Huang sidestepped effortlessly, countering with a quick jab to the gut that sent the man crashing to the ground, gasping for breath. "I'm more than you can comprehend!" he hissed through gritted teeth.
The leader's bravado began to falter as he witnessed his men falling like dominoes around him. The palpable energy radiating from Long Huang was intoxicating, dark, and vibrant. "What are you waiting for, you cowards?" the leader shouted, desperation seeping into his tone as he attempted to rally his men.
But Long Huang was relentless, the roar of his blood thrumming in his ears, drowning out the bandit's rallying cries. Every blow landed with precision and purpose, each movement fueled by the raw need to prove himself, as if to show that he was more than just a boy abandonedto the whims of fate. With a final, powerful strike, he sent the leader sprawling to the ground, the wind knocked out of him.
Placing a foot on the man's chest, Long Huang held him down, breathing heavily, his eyes ablaze with determination. "I am not a child," he declared, his voice steady despite the storm within him. "I am someone you will never forget." The leader's eyes widened in terror, and in that moment, Long Huang knew he had transformed not just his own fate, but the destinies of all those who dared to underestimate him.
The fight was embarrassingly swift.
Zhao Gun barely had time to unsheathe his fancy sword before Long Huang disposed of the bandits with well-placed kicks< jabs, and a flick of his wrist. One particularly unfortunate thug found himself dangling from a tree branch, his own belt looped around his ankles.
"Teamwork," Long Huang declared, as he walked towards his sword to pick it up, while dusting off his robes as the caravan leader rushed forward, bowing so low his forehead nearly scraped the dirt.
"Young heroes!" the man cried, tears in his eyes. "How can we ever repay you?"
Zhao Gun, who had been reduced to little more than a glorified spectator, looked as though he had swallowed a lemon whole.
Long Huang clapped him on the shoulder. "See? Easy as stealing candy from a baby."
Zhao Gun jerked away, his face a storm of indignation. "You—!"
But before he could finish his undoubtedly poetic rant, the air grew heavy. The wind died down. Even the ravens perched in the trees fell silent. A figure emerged from the shadows—tall, clad in dark robes, his aura so dense that it made the ground tremble beneath their feet.
The caravan leader paled. "Oh no…" he whispered. "The Bandit King."
Zhao Gun's expression shifted from furious to horrified in the blink of an eye. "Peak Bone Tempering Realm," he hissed, fingers tightening around his sword.
Long Huang's grin only widened. "Ah," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Now it's getting interesting."