He killed a true swordsman with despicable means, yet he was still the victor. So, even though everyone knew that if they all attacked at once, they might be able to kill him, all the bandits—no matter how arrogant they were when seizing people and livestock—now looked like timid little lambs facing a vicious dog, trembling with fear, heads lowered and eyes downcast.

The killer looked on with contempt, wiped the blood from his blade on Dylan Ford, sheathed his knife, and slowly walked back to his horse. After thinking for a moment, he said coldly:

"Finish your business and leave immediately. No one is allowed to linger."

The bandits, as if granted amnesty, all nodded in agreement.

The snow mountain swordsman was disappointing, and the bandits were even more contemptible. The dawn of revenge had just appeared, only to fade away again.

Samuel Cooper couldn't figure out how he could possibly defeat his enemies at Golden Roc Fort. He had originally thought that once he mastered the Harmony and Speed technique, he could challenge and kill all his foes. Now he realized things were far from that simple.

But he did understand one thing: his father, his master Henry Clark, and his two older brothers were not powerless—they, like Dylan Ford, had also fallen victim to a plot.

The black-clad killer spurred his horse forward, turned east at the crossroads, and entered the territory of Golden Roc Fort. Behind him, two flag bearers followed closely, like two lionesses trailing behind a lion who had just defeated an intruder. The onlookers to the west of the crossroads were nothing more than a pack of cowering wild dogs.

"Finish your business and leave immediately." Samuel Cooper quickly understood the meaning of these words, and realized that he himself had become a commodity.

Not long after the Golden Roc Fort killer passed by, a caravan came from the northern mountain pass, forming a long procession. Some rode horses, others drove carts, dressed in various styles, numbering in the hundreds.

Merchants and bandits, two groups usually at odds and clearly divided, had reached a tacit peace on this road. Both sides waited for each other; the bandits took out their stolen goods and captives, hawking them to passing merchants like novice shop assistants, often unable to even name most of the items themselves.

The merchants loved this kind of trade—not only were the prices cheap, but with luck, they might even buy some rare treasure of unknown origin from the clueless bandits. Most importantly, the T-junction was safe; even the most vicious bandit had to restrain himself and dared not lay a finger on merchants carrying gold and silver.

The merchants had paid a price for this: they handed over protection fees to the biggest "bandit" in the Western Regions—Golden Roc Fort—in exchange for special privileges and freedom from harassment by smaller gangs.

The trading was in full swing, and the stench of blood from the seven corpses was quickly swept away. People came and went, and when Samuel Cooper looked through the crowd and saw the snow mountain swordsman again in the distance, the body had already fallen, the long sword was gone, and several corpses had clearly been stripped clean.

Samuel Cooper was full of emotions and confusion, but the two young men in front of him had little on their minds. Having just escaped death, and with their "savior" turning out to be a killer from Golden Roc Fort, they now had to save themselves.

The two of them opened their mouths to bite at the ropes on their hands. The other captives hesitated for a moment, then all understood—they were now free. Their "masters"—the six bandits from the Flying Eagle Gang—were now dead.

However, at this crossroads dominated by bandits and merchants, "masters" were clearly not a rare commodity. Before the captives could bite through their ropes, several merchants came over, and without a word, ordered their servants to cut the ropes, preparing to take over this batch of "goods."

Some people obediently followed their new "masters," while others tried to explain to the merchants.

"I'm not a slave!"

Samuel Cooper shouted at the bearded man rushing toward him, and the two young men in front also shouted in another language. No matter what language they used, all they got in response was hearty laughter.

The bearded man put away his short knife used for cutting ropes, grabbed Samuel Cooper's arm, and tried to drag him onto a cart. Samuel Cooper, full of anger with nowhere to vent, mustered all his strength and kicked the bearded man.

Although Samuel Cooper was young and not yet fully trained in martial arts, his kick was still quite powerful. The bearded man cried out in pain, enraged, and retaliated with a heavy punch to Samuel Cooper's abdomen.

This punch was even stronger than Samuel Cooper's kick. Samuel Cooper had planned a counter-move, but before he could act, he was knocked off balance. The bearded man's blows were far harsher than those of the Gu family’s manor guards.

The bearded man wanted to hit him again, but a merchant sternly said a few words, probably telling him not to kill the slave, as it was newly "bought" merchandise.

The bearded man, still holding a grudge from being kicked, deliberately slammed the boy's head against the wooden bars when opening the cage door. Samuel Cooper felt a wave of dizziness and was thrown inside.

Where he landed, there was already a living person, who screamed and kicked Samuel Cooper away. Samuel Cooper rolled to the side, and after a while regained his senses, realizing the caravan was already back on the road, heading east, following the trail of the Golden Roc banners.

There was more than one cage cart; a whole line followed behind, all pulled by huge, double-horned oxen. Many fierce-looking Hu riders flanked the caravan.