The guards knelt on one knee atop the fallen leaves. They wore cotton tunics, with the edges faintly revealing armor plates. Their right hands reached behind their backs, gripping the hilts of their upward-slanting swords tightly. With cold indifference, they stared straight ahead, completely encircling the two carriages behind them.

One carriage was lavish and silent. In front of the other, the only elderly gentleman in the group sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, appearing utterly at ease. A sword lay horizontally across his knees, its scabbard tattered and old, just like the robe draped over the old man.

The guards stood expressionless around the old man, as if they could neither see the surrounding carnage nor hear the shouts and cries. Only when an enemy was about to break into their defensive circle would a guard draw his sword and leap into the fray.

Because they were outnumbered, the lone guard who stepped forward would often be quickly engulfed in a bloody and brutal battle. Yet even so, the remaining guards remained utterly unmoved, not even blinking an eyelash, still refusing to leave the old man’s side by even half a step.

Adam Spencer did not know why the guards acted this way, nor what was hidden among the shadowy forest leaves that they watched so warily, but he knew that something truly terrifying must be there.

Vaguely guessing what was about to happen, the reality of a cold and magnificent new world about to unveil itself made his nerves stretch to the limit, his scalp tingling. His middle and index fingers silently rubbed the bowstring again and again. After a while, his breathing, strangely, slowed down, and his expression became even calmer and steadier than before.

The anticipation of unknown danger and fear made the atmosphere unbearably oppressive. The sounds of fierce fighting and clashing blades around the carriage formation seemed to vanish.

At this most tense and critical moment, the window of the lavish carriage creaked open. A beautiful young woman poked her head out, her hairpin slightly askew, her face tinged with worry.

Before she could speak, the stern-faced guard captain beside the carriage quietly said, “Your Highness, please be careful,” then quickly reached out to close the window, blocking her from view. Though his expression was respectful, perhaps due to the tense situation, his movements seemed a bit brusque.

Chapter Ten: A Sword Across the Knees, A Sword Through Blood

“Sacrifices for the great and powerful…”

Adam Spencer watched this scene, thinking silently to himself, but then felt two cold, piercing gazes from beside him. Turning his head, he saw Lily Spencer quietly watching him, her face turned slightly to the side.

A second or two of eye contact—usually brief, but now it felt endless.

Once again in his life, Adam Spencer found himself defeated before his little maid, sighing helplessly in his heart. The muscles in his legs tensed, his toes digging into the thick fallen leaves and the damp earth beneath, ready to spring into action at any moment.

In the distance, deep within the increasingly shadowy North Mountain Road as the sun set, a sudden, inexplicable gust of wind swept through the gray-black branches. The newly sprouted buds at the tips, protected by old bark, were unharmed, but the leaves that had accumulated on the ground for who knows how many years were swept up into the air, swirling and rustling before fluttering back down.

In spring, boundless fallen leaves drift down in endless sighs.

A man in dark light armor, tall and burly, appeared deep within the North Mountain Road. With a thunderous roar, a faint, earthy glow seeped from his armor, flashing and vanishing in an instant, as if a god had briefly appeared from the clouds.

His two arms, thick as tree trunks, suddenly lifted high, turning a heavy stone—picked up from who knows where—into a whistling projectile, hurling it fiercely at the lavish carriage!

What terrifying strength—to turn a man into a long-range stone-throwing siege engine!

The heavy stone howled through the air at high speed, shattering any branch it so much as brushed against. Following a perfect arc, it crossed over a hundred meters with unstoppable force, striking the first carriage with cold precision!

With a muffled boom, the lavishly decorated, solidly built carriage instantly burst apart into a heap of splintered wood and torn fabric. Inside, there were faint glimpses of severed limbs and fresh blood.

The Tang guards who had been kneeling with swords drawn around the carriage remained as cold and indifferent as ever, as if they could not see the carriage behind them reduced to rubble, nor the princess they had sworn to protect blown to pieces. There was not even a trace of surprise on their faces; in fact, there was even a faint hint of relief and calm.

“Front row, fire!”

The guard captain gave a low command.

Three subordinates, still half-kneeling, had already released their sword hilts and leveled their powerful military crossbows, aiming into the depths of the forest and quickly pulling the triggers.

Nine crossbow bolts shot like lightning through the slowly drifting leaves, striking the godlike giant with perfect accuracy. Yet the burly man merely waved his hand, brushing aside two bolts aimed at his face, and paid no attention at all to the bolts that struck his chest.

His stone-like palm was numbed by the high-speed bolts, and the arrows stuck in his chest trembled like long-legged insects caught in his light armor before falling to the ground. The arrowheads were faintly stained with blood—he had only suffered minor injuries.

Because the distance was too great, this volley of crossbow bolts had no effect beyond that. The guard captain had expected as much; his expression did not change at all. Staring at the tall figure deep in the North Mountain Road, he raised his right hand and shouted, “Wait!”

The three guards lowered their crossbows and once again gripped the hilts of their upward-slanting swords.