Chapter 82: Desert Bandits

Li Ju glanced at the gray, overcast sky, tightened the scarf around his face, and continued riding his camel across the boundless sea of sand.

After settling all outstanding matters within the borders of the Chen Kingdom, he decisively took the map leading to the Western Wu Kingdom and a camel, leaving Chen behind and heading westward. For him, remaining in Chen no longer offered any meaningful opportunities to improve his strength. Moreover, the machinations of the Seven-Three Sect and the Demon Cult were becoming increasingly unfathomable; he feared that lingering in Chen would only make him a pawn in their schemes.

Thus, he chose to extricate himself from Chen and, as he had originally planned, sought temporary refuge in the Western Wu Kingdom. If this were the previous “Flying Sword Chronicles” scenario, he would not have dared such a journey—after all, that scenario lasted only one year, hardly enough time. But the “Might of the Demon” scenario spanned a full ten years, giving him ample opportunity to explore Western Wu.

A sigh escaped him.

Sand and dust filled the air, blotting out the sun. Today, the wind was fierce—a most unfavorable condition for a traveler in the desert. Not only did the blowing sand obscure one’s vision, but it also shifted the very landscape, making it all too easy for the inexperienced to lose their way.

Even camels, long accustomed to desert life, struggled to move forward in such weather.

Daylight drifted by in slow progress. At night, Li Ju sat beneath a towering cactus—at least two meters high—pulled a specially crafted torch from his large cloth sack, lit it, and planted it into the sand.

“I’ve been traveling for three days since leaving the last landmark. By my reckoning, I’m still a day’s journey from the next one.”

Holding a sheepskin map by the torchlight, he examined it. Years of wind and sand had continually reshaped the desert, so travelers relied on a series of immense, immovable natural wonders as landmarks, connecting them to chart a route across the Yellow Sands Desert.

“To cross the desert, one must pass fifteen landmarks. Right now, I’m between the third and fourth. If my pace holds, it’ll take me another three months to traverse the desert in full.”

His finger traced positions on the map repeatedly.

“But three months is the best-case scenario. There’ll likely be obstacles along the way to slow me down. That must be considered.”

He stroked his chin, then stowed the map and sat cross-legged on the sand to rest and regulate his breathing.

In truth, with his martial skills, he could travel three days and nights without losing vigor. But he rested frequently for his camel’s sake. This particular camel, experienced and familiar with the desert, had been hard to find—he could not risk exhausting it so soon.

The next day, as the wind and dust subsided and sunlight returned to the earth, Li Ju continued his journey, leading the camel toward Western Wu.

“Hm?”

“What’s that?”

Riding atop his camel, Li Ju peered into the distance and caught sight of several black dots.

—

“People?”

Li Ju frowned, then his eyes suddenly brightened.

“Ah, my beloved kin!”

What he saw was a group of sand bandits, clad in white robes and wielding long knives, chasing down a pair of riders. Joy bloomed on Li Ju’s face—a joy he had not felt since entering the desert.

It had been so long since he’d encountered such familiar brigands. Though these sand bandits operated in a different region than the horse and land bandits he’d known before, their trade was the same, and the title “bandit” bound them all in kinship. To Li Ju, it felt like meeting “family.”

After all, when in need of money, doesn’t one always turn to “family” first for a loan?

“My dear kin, here I come.”

Li Ju grinned—a smile he hadn’t worn since stepping into the desert—and urged his camel toward the sand bandits.

“Boss, there’s someone running this way!”

Amid the bandits chasing the two riders, one peered through the sandstorm and spotted a dark figure approaching.

“Hm? Another fool courting death?”

A bandit, his white robe trimmed with black, scowled as he watched Li Ju draw near.

“Forget him for now. Capturing the Prince of Water City takes priority. If he really wants to die, we’ll oblige him.”

With that, the bandit leader drew a long bow, nocked an arrow, and released it in a full-moon arc. The arrow struck one of the fleeing pair in the shoulder.

“General Wang!”

The young man fleeing with the wounded rider cried out in alarm.

“Prince, I am unharmed,” the man addressed as General Wang gritted his teeth, yanked the arrow from his shoulder, and blood spattered the sand.

—

“Hmph, tough luck,” the bandit leader snorted. He had aimed for Wang’s heart, but a sudden gust had deflected his shot.

“Boss, that fool is nearly on us now.”

One of his underlings reported urgently.

“Hmph, if he’s in such a hurry to meet his end, let’s oblige. A-Da, A-Er, you two take care of that idiot!”

At the leader’s command, two burly men armed themselves and, with cruel smiles, charged toward the approaching stranger.

“The rest of you, with me—”

“Ah!”

Just as the bandit leader began to issue orders, a scream erupted. A corpse sailed through the air before his eyes.

“What—?”

The leader’s eyes widened in horror as he stared toward the source of the scream. What he saw made his blood run cold.

A figure in black robes moved through the bandits like a phantom, unimpeded—wherever he passed, blood sprayed and bodies fell.

“Kill him!” the leader roared, his eyes red with rage—then spurred his horse in the opposite direction, fleeing as fast as he could.

This was no foe to be faced!

The bandit leader made up his mind and urged his mount to greater speed. In that moment, he wished his horse could sprout four more legs, that he might escape even faster.