The masked warrior shouted loudly, “Henry Walker that dog of a traitor fled alone with serious injuries, but I have slain all twenty-five of his rebellious followers.” He turned his head slightly, catching sight from the corner of his eye of the departing household guards stationed inside and outside the city gate and tower; apart from them, no one else was in sight. With a cold snort, he cast a chilling gaze at the fleeing crowd and said, “I must trouble you all for twenty-five heads, so I can report back to the Governor. I wonder if you would be willing to oblige me?” With that, he swung his long halberd, and the household guards behind him filed out to the left and right, surrounding the refugees.

Adam Carter knew he intended to silence all witnesses and was determined to kill these hundred or so refugees. He urgently said to Caleb, “Drive the carriage and chase after Henry Walker; you might escape this disaster.”

“Father, what about you?” Caleb Carter cried anxiously.

“Me? Don’t worry about me. I’ll die together with your Uncle Bolton, and even as ghosts, we won’t be lonely. Remember, don’t think about revenge.” With that, he suddenly drew the dagger Ethan Brooks had given him for self-defense and stabbed it into the horse’s flank.

The horse, in pain, dragged the carriage and burst out from the not-yet-completed encirclement, galloping back the way they had come.

“Everyone, run! This man intends to kill us all!” Michael Bolton’s voice rang out, high and clear, like a phoenix’s cry in a raging fire. Everyone, soldiers and civilians alike, was stunned. At last, they understood what the scattered soldiers around them intended to do. Though their bodies were exhausted, under the threat of death, they summoned a final surge of strength and willpower, scrambling to find gaps between the horses to break through.

Michael Bolton and Adam Carter stood hand in hand in the middle of the road, unmoving as mountains. They only hoped that this futile struggle could give the six children a sliver of hope to escape. They gazed quietly at the black-helmeted commander. The resolve to die made their eyes even clearer and gentler, yet the masked warrior dared not meet their gaze.

The masked warrior cursed inwardly, “Damn it.” At last, he gave the order: “Kill them all.” Before the words had left his mouth, he spurred his horse into a high leap. As he vaulted past Bolton and Carter, he swung his halberd in a sweeping arc.

Two flashes of white light faded, and Bolton and Carter fell to either side of the official road. The masked warrior looked at the despair in Adam Carter’s dying eyes and felt a surge of satisfaction. He thought to himself, letting those six brats escape alive—how could it be so easy? Though this incident would cause trouble, it was nothing he couldn’t handle. The youth driving the carriage looked as good as dead, as if stricken by a fatal illness—no threat. But the other five boys, with their handsome and striking features and clear, determined eyes in the face of death, would surely achieve greatness within ten years if they found a worthy teacher. If he didn’t root them out now, they would become a much greater problem in the future.

The masked warrior was about to spur his horse with all his might, but unexpectedly, the usually spirited steed stumbled and lurched to the side of the road. That morning, when everyone attacked Henry Walker, most of the assault had been borne by this masked warrior.

Henry Walker’s “Biluoge” halberd embodied the imagery of “emerald clouds filling the sky.” Wherever the halberd pointed, it shone like the evening glow, and the force it carried pressed down like a wall. There was no way to borrow strength, no way to resist. The masked warrior felt extremely unwell. Moreover, his steed had also taken a heavy toll and was already showing signs of exhaustion at the time. However, this was a sweat-blood horse from Dayue, and it had managed to hold out until now. Had it been an ordinary horse, it would have collapsed and died on the spot. If the masked warrior had noticed his mount’s condition earlier, perhaps things would have been different, but during the morning battle, his mind had been shaken by Henry Walker. He had chased out of the city most unwillingly; if not for fear of being ridiculed by his second brother later, he would have abandoned even this pretense of pursuit. He hadn’t noticed that the horse’s leap just now had already pushed it to its limit.

The masked warrior bent and stretched his arms like a great bird swooping down. As soon as he touched the ground, he leapt backward, swung his halberd to knock a warrior off a fine horse, flipped onto its back, and forced the horse back onto the official road. He spurred the horse in pursuit of Caleb Carter. All these actions happened in a flash, the masked warrior moving like a ghost, his form almost impossible to track. However, this brief delay, combined with his earlier sprint, had already allowed Caleb Carter to drive the carriage dozens of yards ahead.

At this moment, Caleb Carter’s life hung by a thread. Although he hadn’t witnessed his father’s murder, the constant screams and the terrified cries of women and children behind him, along with the stench of blood, made it clear that few could have survived. Caleb Carter felt death pervading the world, his chest filled with grief and rage he could not suppress or vent. He couldn’t help but spit out a mouthful of blood. At this moment, the Yin Jue true energy in his dantian, spurred on by the aura of death, surged violently, threatening to burst through his dantian. For the past ten days, his dantian had been tormented by the Yin Jue true energy, making it tough and resilient. With the main path blocked, the energy sought a side route, and the frigid Yin Jue true energy surged into the Yin Qiao and Yin Wei meridians, just as Ethan Brooks had feared. Although the Yang Jue true flame that Ethan Brooks had stored in the collateral meridians beside Caleb’s four main channels continuously flowed into the Yin Qiao and Yin Wei meridians to dissolve the cold, Caleb Carter’s great circulation was blocked, and his meridians were too delicate. The moment the Yang Jue true flame entered the Yin Qiao and Yin Wei meridians, it was immediately extinguished by the Yin Jue true cold. Though some of the cold was dispelled, compared to the torrent of true cold surging forth, it was negligible. The Yin Jue true cold from the Penque point of the Yin Qiao meridian to the Liangmen point, and from the Kangquan point of the Yin Wei meridian to the Lingdao point, was like a raging river. Because the channels at both ends were too narrow, the energy could not flow out and would burst forth like a breached dam. When that happened, Caleb Carter’s Yin Qiao and Yin Wei meridians would both be destroyed, and not even a god could save him. Even if the meridians survived, if that strange cold lingered in his chest and abdomen for too long, his life would still come to an end.