Adam Carter turned to look at Caleb, let out a long sigh, and said, “Heaven and earth are merciless, treating all things as straw dogs; sages are merciless, treating the people as straw dogs. In this world, those who pride themselves as heroes are mostly petty villains like Jie and Zhi, indulging their desires, seizing the world out of greed. This was supposed to be a bright and just world, yet it has become so turbid.”

“Brother Zixing, why say all this to Gengsu?” Michael Bolton waved his sleeve, took a deep breath, as if something within him could not be calmed, and took over Adam Carter’s words: “Zichan often says, order and chaos are not decreed by heaven. Yet he also says, when the world is muddled and knows not right from wrong, that is where order and chaos lie.”

As they spoke, a pillar of black smoke rose from the northwest corner of Bayang City, with flames faintly visible in the middle, and the sound of chaotic horse hooves. Adam Carter and Michael looked at each other, not knowing what new upheaval had occurred.

With a loud “bang” from afar, they saw wood chips fly from the city gate, and more than twenty armored cavalry in black rushed out of the gate in a flurry, kicking up a cloud of flying snow that filled the sky, obscuring a large area including the city gate from the eyes of the fleeing crowd.

Adam Carter immediately ordered everyone to scatter to the sides of the road to avoid being trampled. Amid the panic, the squad of black-armored cavalry had already swept close. All were clad in black armor, riding black horses, their bodies drenched in blood. Each held a long halberd, black as ink except for the blade’s edge, which gleamed silver, reflecting the snow and dazzling the eyes; their faces were covered with bronze masks, giving a chilling and terrifying impression.

Adam Carter exclaimed, “The Ghost Riders of Qingzhou.” His voice was so suppressed it was barely a whisper, and beside him, Michael Bolton was almost inaudible. The leading black-armored rider seemed to sense something and turned to look their way, his eyes flashing like sharp blades. Adam Carter could not withstand the palpable murderous aura, and collapsed onto the snow, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.

The rider’s lips curled, half-smiling, half-mocking, with a strange expression. He cast a resentful glance back at Bayang City, then turned and led his squad away at full speed. The crowd felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from their hearts.

Matthew Bolton helped Adam Carter up, and the two looked at each other. Adam Carter said, “That must have been Henry Walker, but I don’t know why he fled his own territory in such haste. Ah, something must have happened in Qingzhou—could it be that Samuel Harris has joined forces with William Evans to use a strategy that cuts off the source?”

Caleb Carter, surprised, asked, “Why are there only twenty-five left?”

With the Ghost Riders of Qingzhou nearby, no one dared even to look at them, let alone count their numbers. Michael Bolton couldn’t help but praise, “Gengsu actually counted them—truly impressive.” He paused, then added in confusion, “Only half of the forty-nine riders remain?” You see, besides his superb swordsmanship, Henry Walker was especially skilled with the halberd, and was ranked first in the world for this art. He had carefully selected a group of outstanding warriors from among his men to train in the halberd, and among them, the best forty-nine, all in black armor and riding black horses, faces covered with bronze masks, were called the Forty-Nine Halberd Riders. These forty-nine excelled at charging; in battle, they would lead the Ghost Riders of Qingzhou to break enemy lines, wedge into weak points, tear formations apart, or, when facing strong resistance, charge the most stubborn parts of the enemy. The Forty-Nine Halberd Riders were like the blade’s edge, and Henry Walker would use them to shatter the enemy’s will. Thus, much of the Ghost Riders’ fearsome reputation was built by these forty-nine, and their name struck terror everywhere. Henry Walker constantly trained replacements, so whenever one fell, another would take his place, making the forty-nine seem like an unbreakable steel formation; yet now only half remained. Judging by this, the Ghost Riders of Qingzhou had suffered a heavy blow. If Henry Walker was driven out of Qingzhou, the Ghost Riders would become nothing but a memory. Michael Bolton and Adam Carter looked at each other and sighed, their faces full of helplessness.

Caleb Carter saw their expressions and, puzzled, asked, “The Qingzhou troops pillaged the prefectures, leaving the people destitute. Now that they’re gone, isn’t that a blessing for the world? Why do uncle and father feel regret?”

“We’re not sighing for the Ghost Riders of Qingzhou, but fearing that the art of charging and the halberd techniques of Bilu will vanish from the world.”

“But didn’t Henry Walker just pass by here, safe and sound?”

“Well, that’s a complicated story…” Michael Bolton was about to explain from the beginning when shouts arose from within the city. Everyone looked over. Another hundred or so riders filed out of the city, clearly in pursuit. But these pursuers, though shouting loudly, moved neither quickly nor slowly, and when they reached the refugees, they stopped advancing.

The leader was a young warrior in a black helmet and brown armor. His face was like an owl’s, with a narrow jaw, a hooked eagle nose, and eyes like a hawk’s, sending a chill through all who met his gaze. The owl-faced warrior looked gloomily at the snow kicked up by the distant horses, then at the people sitting haphazardly in the snow. Seeming to understand something, he rode to the right side of the warriors, leaned over, and gave a few instructions to one of them, then returned to the front of the refugees. The knight on the right looked displeased, but then his face hardened, the long scar above his brow looking even more menacing. He shouted, “Peter, take your men and come with me.” With that, he whipped his horse and sped toward the city gate, followed by more than forty riders who dashed after him.

The owl-faced warrior, seeing the group leave, revealed a cold, sinister smile. The refugees shivered with fear, and Adam Carter felt an even stronger sense of impending doom. Adam Carter quietly instructed Caleb to return to the carriage and sit at the front, ready for any change. Fortunately, Grace and the other five children had stayed in the carriage the whole time. Adam Carter dared not make the slightest move, fearing that any action might provoke the murderous intent of the man before him.