Chapter 35: When Paths Narrow and Foes Meet

The old man suddenly looked up at the captain and said, “Beard Old Knife would never deceive us.”

The captain let out a sigh of relief and shrugged at Qian Ye. Qian Ye merely smiled and did not mind.

The old man picked up the Twin Blossoms, gently stroking each groove while muttering, “In our eyes, there are only two kinds of people: those who are with us and those who are not. Even if they are true bloods, it doesn’t stop them from becoming one of us.”

Upon hearing this, Qian Ye raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

The old man turned the revolver over several times and asked, “There should be another one, right?”

Qian Ye finally showed some reaction and took out the other Twin Blossoms, placing it on the table. This time, the old man simply glanced at the right revolver and handed it back to Qian Ye.

The old man rummaged through the pile of clutter on the workbench, eventually pulling out a rusty iron box. He placed it under the crystal lamp, adjusting the angle before carefully opening it. His manner suggested that the contents were as precious as the most valuable gemstones in the world.

Inside the box, a yellow silk lining was laid, just as old as the exterior. On the silk lay a single silver bullet.

This bullet was exquisitely crafted, its silver casing thick and reflective, almost fluid-like. It was made of mithril, covered in intricate patterns and even had symbols that looked like runes.

When he saw the patterns, Qian Ye was surprised that such a small place could have a mithril bullet for breaking magic. But the addition of the runes made him skeptical.

Those capable of using rune arrays within a force array had surpassed masters and could be called artisans. In the Red Scorpion, there was only one such craftsman. Looking at the old man and his surroundings, Qian Ye found it hard to believe that this old man could be such a master.

Ignoring Qian Ye’s thoughts, the old man, with a fervent and reverent expression, stared intently at the silver bullet. Then, he suddenly looked up, pointed at the bullet, and spoke in a dry voice, “This, my friend, is a bullet!”

Qian Ye felt like he wanted to vomit blood. Of course, he knew it was a bullet, and he could even describe it more precisely, like a mithril anti-magic solid bullet.

But seeing the unwavering look in the old man’s eyes, Qian Ye gave in and said, “Alright, it’s a bullet.”

“It’s yours now. Remember, use it when your life depends on it.” The old man closed the box, held it in both hands, and handed it to Qian Ye.

Even as he left the small town named Dog Claw, Qian Ye pondered what about this bullet was worth a hundred gold coins.

It was an absurd price, but under the old man’s gaze, Qian Ye had somehow paid for it along with the other ammunition he had ordered. If it had any value, it might be in the engraved patterns and runes, which, if more refined, might even have some artistic value.

Qian Ye sighed, reached into his pocket, and touched the bullet inside.

The iron box did not emit any force fluctuations, and the rusty box certainly wasn’t a force-proof crystal box or an Imperial Legion’s force magazine. The box had no shielding effect, so the lack of force fluctuations indicated that it was a blank solid bullet that needed to be infused with force.

Shaking off the thought, Qian Ye boarded the cross-continental airship, which had restrictions on carrying firearms. At least in such a desolate place, he managed to get a supply of ammunition.

The other powder and force solid bullets seemed normal, and a mithril bullet, regardless of whether it had real anti-magic properties, was still mithril, which was not a bad deal. Though Qian Ye still doubted whether this flashy-looking force bullet could actually be infused with force.

Before leaving, Qian Ye asked the old man for his name. The old man replied, “Just call me Master.”

A rather unapologetic answer, Qian Ye thought, as he revved the engine of his motorcycle. The roar of the engine grew louder, and the old Thunder Tiger trembled and roared, dragging its heavy body into the distance.

Though old, the Thunder Tiger was still sturdy and reliable, running for hundreds of kilometers before starting to spew black smoke, protesting as if ready to give up.

Ji Hua Yuan was a unique branch of the Nian Qing Mountain Range in the West Continent. Due to its terrain, it rarely rained, and the ground was arid, forming a desolate desert.

But beyond the rugged mountains lay the magnificent Taihang Mountains, and beneath the surface, many underground rivers flowed. Thus, towering trees grew in the wilderness, and where there were trees, small oases often formed.

Qian Ye gazed ahead, spotting a giant tree with a canopy like a parasol. He adjusted his direction and headed straight for the tree.

Sure enough, a small oasis soon came into view, with a tiny spring in the middle. Seeing the water, Qian Ye immediately felt refreshed, and his fatigue vanished. He rushed to the spring and drank the clear, cool water.

After drinking his fill, Qian Ye wiped his face, filled the Thunder Tiger with water, and added enough black stone powder to the power furnace, preparing to rest for the night before continuing his journey. According to the map, he still needed more than a day to cross this extremely arid wasteland and enter the Taihang Mountains.

The West Continent was home to the Great Qin Empire, dark races, and rebels. In recent years, wars raged, and the situation was chaotic, with conflicts everywhere. Due to the presence of rebels, the checkpoints on the Imperial territory were especially strict, to prevent spies from infiltrating.

Qian Ye had taken a shortcut through the gray area, entering the West Continent via Ji Hua Yuan. Up until crossing the Taihang Mountains, it was unclaimed territory, without any checkpoints.

Of course, he carried a complete set of identification documents, prepared by Song Zining. These documents described Qian Ye as a lieutenant of a main Imperial legion, injured in battle and thus retired. The format and seals were impeccable, even a seasoned expert couldn’t find fault.

For verification, in this era where each legion kept its own records, even the Imperial family couldn’t fully trace a minor lieutenant. Unless they sent a letter to the original legion for the records, which, given Yin Qiqi’s experience with the 17th Legion, might well exist in the archives.

Qian Ye traced a curve on the map, passing through the mountains ahead, and would officially enter the Zhao clan’s territory. Several provinces on the West Continent were wrested from the dark races by the Zhao ancestors, and they built the mighty Yan Yun Pass to defend against external threats. By Imperial tradition, these provinces were hereditary territories of the Zhao clan, passed down for generations, laying the foundation for their noble status.

The Forgotten Mountains mentioned in Dalar’s diary must be a landmark of the dark races, located in the Taihang Mountains, and the place of the gift was near one of the core cities of the Zhao clan.

Qian Ye folded the map, unloaded his luggage from the Thunder Tiger, and prepared to set up camp in the oasis. Suddenly, he tensed, standing up and inhaling deeply in the direction of the night wind.

The highland night breeze carried a unique scent, mostly the heat from Ji Hua Yuan, mixed with the rich, life-giving scent of plants from the other side of the mountains. Yet, what caught Qian Ye’s attention was a sweet fragrance, which instantly aroused his intense hunger and thirst.

It was the smell of blood, pure, sweet, and full of power!

Qian Ye’s first thought was not to hide or flee, but to ambush and consume this deliciousness. He quickly shook off the desire, darted behind the giant tree, and activated his dark vision, his pupils turning a slight red.

From the distant darkness, a squad of black-clothed warriors emerged. They walked with an unyielding disregard for danger, not concealing their auras. The leader was a warlord, and the weakest among them was at least level five.

There were ten warriors, all bloods, but wearing Imperial uniforms. Such a disguise couldn’t fool a true master within visual range, but it helped reduce trouble when crossing human-controlled areas.

They spotted the giant tree and adjusted their direction, heading towards it.

Qian Ye’s heart sank, realizing there was no place to hide in this tiny oasis, and his traces of gathering water and setting up camp couldn’t be erased.

He made a quick decision, threw his bag onto the Thunder Tiger, and started the old machine, fleeing into the depths of the wilderness.

The Thunder Tiger’s roar echoed in the night, drawing the attention of the bloods. In the eyes of the strong and weak, a light was rapidly retreating from their target.

“Lord Zhauren, it’s a human. He seems to have noticed us,” a young bloods lady knight said.

The leading viscount’s face was grim, and he impatiently said, “A minor inconvenience. You two, go and kill him. The rest, rest at the oasis. We’ll continue in an hour.”

Two blood knights responded, transforming into faint smoke, and pursued Qian Ye.

Moments later, a small camp was set up in the oasis. Zhauren didn’t rest but stood by the spring, deep in thought.

The lady knight approached Zhauren and whispered, “Lord Zhauren, what is our target this time?”

Their squad had been wandering the plateau for days, seemingly aimlessly, occasionally letting humans go unnoticed. This was very unlike Zhauren’s usual ruthlessness.

Zhauren took out a red crystal pendant, infusing it with blood. The red crystal activated, projecting a palm-sized map into the air, with a region highlighted in bright red.