Samuel Cooper stood at the very back, almost knocked over by the people in front of him, but still tiptoed to look ahead. He had never heard of the "Great Snow Mountain Swordsman" and didn't know what everyone was afraid of.

In front of him were two boys about his age. They were clearly as aware of the terror of "Great Snow Mountain" as the bandits, keeping their heads down and hiding behind the adults.

The knight from Great Snow Mountain showed a slight smile. His cheeks were rosy from wind, snow, and sun, and he habitually squinted his eyes, as if always searching for something.

"Members of the Flying Eagle Gang, step forward."

His voice was not loud, nor was it harsh, yet it carried an irresistible force. Samuel Cooper saw the scar-faced bandit called "Flying Eagle" turn pale.

The Flying Eagle Gang was a small group, only six people, barely enough to be called a "gang." But Eagle was the leader, and he couldn't just hide like a turtle.

"Eagle is here. This is Golden Roc Fort's territory—what do you dare to do?"

The gray-cloaked knight glanced back at the empty wilderness. "Still one step away. And, when have you ever heard of men from Great Snow Mountain being afraid of the 'Butcher King'?"

Samuel Cooper felt a surge of joy. So the "King of Solitude" also had enemies. He had always thought Golden Roc Fort was invincible in the Western Regions, untouchable by anyone. Now, his hope for revenge seemed much greater. He should find a way to join the Great Snow Mountain faction.

Eagle's face turned even paler. His few brothers in the gang also gripped their knife handles in panic. East of the road was Golden Roc Fort's territory. As bandits, none of them could cross the border, nor could they expect protection.

Eagle gritted his teeth and shouted, "Brothers, are the Eighty-One Gangs of Tianshan really this disunited? Are we just going to let them bully us without a word?"

The other bandits glanced at each other, but no one responded. They were all from small gangs, barely scraping by. This was the first time they'd even heard of the "Eighty-One Gangs of Tianshan," so there was no sense of shared enmity, nor did they feel any need to draw their blades in support.

The Great Snow Mountain knight let out a cold laugh. "'Eighty-One Gangs of Tianshan,' what a grand name. I'm really scared. But I'm only looking for the Flying Eagle Gang—no one else is involved."

This statement put the other bandits at ease. Not only did no one step forward, but they even retreated further, keeping their distance from the Flying Eagle Gang.

Eagle realized he was in a desperate situation, but he was a battle-hardened bandit, having survived the "golden age" of banditry more than ten years ago. Deep down, he retained a stubborn ferocity. If he couldn't avoid it, he would fight head-on—begging for mercy was useless.

Eagle spat, expelling the last bit of filth from his mouth.

He jumped off his horse and drew his blade. The other brothers did the same. The six of them lined up in a row, six curved blades gleaming brightly, the spotless white blades forming a stark contrast to their filthy attire.

The Great Snow Mountain knight smiled in satisfaction, took off his cloak, placed it on the saddle, then also dismounted and drew a long greatsword from the side of his horse.

The blade of the greatsword was almost as wide as an adult's palm. The tip touched the ground, the hilt reaching the knight's chest. The edge was visibly chipped, as if its owner had used it to chop firewood.

"My name is Dylan Ford."

"What the hell do I care what your name is? You're from Great Snow Mountain, so it's a fight to the death between us." Eagle, with his five brothers, advanced slowly, spreading out to form an arc, surrounding the knight Dylan Ford.

"I want you to know who it is that's going to kill you."

Dylan Ford gripped his sword with both hands, the tip still resting on the ground.

The six members of the Flying Eagle Gang closed in step by step. They had no habit of announcing their names before killing. Bandits were more accustomed to the rules of Golden Roc Fort: use any means necessary—kill first, talk later.

Samuel Cooper, however, felt a strong liking for the knight named Dylan Ford. He strained on tiptoe, trying to see more clearly, but the two boys in front of him seemed terrified, always crouching behind the adults. Tied together by the same rope, Samuel Cooper couldn't stand up straight and couldn't see what was happening outside at all.

A sharp shout rang out—no one knew who made it. Weapons clanged twice, then everything fell silent. It didn't sound intense at all, more like a bored blacksmith casually striking his tools.

Yet the watching bandits and captives all gasped in shock.

Samuel Cooper jumped up with all his might, peering over the heads in front just in time to see Dylan Ford raising his greatsword high. Of the six members of the Flying Eagle Gang, five had already fallen. Only the "leader" Eagle stood dumbfounded on the other side, his curved blade dropped to the ground, comically raising his left arm to shield his face, as if trying to block a deadly blow with mere flesh.

Though it was only a fleeting glance, Samuel Cooper remembered this scene vividly, never forgetting it even years later. What impressed him most was not the godlike, sword-wielding Dylan Ford, but the utterly terrified, completely defeated Eagle.

At that moment, a thought suddenly formed in his mind: so killing a person was actually this easy. There were no dazzling moves, no back-and-forth, no secret techniques. The boxing and swordplay he had once practiced so earnestly now seemed childish and useless.

Samuel Cooper had only a split second to look before the two boys in front yanked him down. The boy closest to him glared, as if warning him not to move recklessly.