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The officer knelt on the ground, clutching his broken right arm in agony, blood seeping through his fingers and splattering onto the floor. His face twisted in pain and humiliation, he wailed loudly, his voice piercing: "Damn it! You bastard! Someone, grab him!"
His roar echoed through the teahouse, but the surrounding soldiers stood frozen in place, weapons in hand yet too afraid to advance. Their eyes darted between the officer and Leng Lie, filled with hesitation and fear. They had just witnessed Leng Lie's blade technique, so swift it was almost imperceptible, along with the suffocating Killing Intent he exuded. To challenge such a monster was akin to seeking death.
Leng Lie paid no mind to the officer on the ground; he brushed off the dust from his cloak and turned away, the scabbard lightly tapping against his waist. His gaze was calm yet carried an undeniable authority. He took a few steps forward and stopped in front of a soldier, coldly stating, "Take me to see Feng Huo Liao."
The soldier felt crushed under Leng Lie's presence, nearly unable to breathe. He swallowed hard, his eyes filled with struggle, but ultimately nodded and turned towards the door. Leng Lie followed him, his steps steady, each one proclaiming his composure and strength.
As they reached the entrance of the teahouse, Leng Lie paused and glanced back at the officer still kneeling in pain and despair. A barely visible cold smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. With a tone laced with disdain and sarcasm, he said, "Officer, why not ask that wandering merchant for a bottle of miraculous medicine? Perhaps next time your arm won't be severed."
With that, he adjusted his hat and stepped out of the teahouse, his figure gradually disappearing from view in the sunlight outside.
Inside the teahouse, everyone exchanged glances, none daring to speak. Their eyes flitted between the officer, the pool of blood on the floor, and the direction in which Leng Lie had departed, their hearts shaken. The scene they had just witnessed felt surreal; it was hard to believe that this seemingly ordinary wanderer could escape unscathed from a circle of Yangchuan Soldiers while crushing an officer with such ferocity.
The officer's cries still echoed within the teahouse, but no one dared to look at him again or offer assistance. In the heavy silence that followed, only the blood-stained floor remained as a testament to what had just transpired.
Following the soldier's lead, Leng Lie slowly made his way toward the First Legion's camp. His pace was steady and calm, each step seemingly deliberate and unhurried. However, his overwhelming aura made the soldier leading him nervous; beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he stumbled slightly in his steps, glancing back at Leng Lie as if fearing that this wanderer might suddenly draw his blade.
The camp's gate loomed before them, its tall wooden frame adorned with the Yang Chuan military emblem exuding an air of authority. Guards stood alert at their posts on either side, gripping their rifles with hawk-like sharpness in their gazes. They had already noticed the approaching figures; when they saw the lead soldier's pale face and unsteady gait, their vigilance heightened as they tightened their grips on their weapons.
As Leng Lie drew closer, his face hidden beneath the brim of his hat made it impossible for the guards to discern who he was; yet his presence sliced through their nerves like a sharp blade. Their eyes darted between Leng Lie and the soldier guiding him, expressions of suspicion and confusion crossing their faces.
"What kind of person is this? Why is he suddenly bringing an unknown wanderer here?" one guard whispered to his companion in a low voice that carried surprise and doubt.
"I don't know, but looking at him... he doesn't seem like an ordinary person. Just look at that soldier's face; it's as if he's seen a ghost," another guard replied, his voice tinged with unmistakable tension.
Leng Lie did not respond to anyone's gaze; he simply followed the soldiers' footsteps in silence, completely ignoring the eyes upon him. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of the dagger at his waist, a natural gesture that exuded an indescribable aura of intimidation, as if he could draw his weapon at any moment and cut down anything that obstructed his path.
As they reached the entrance of the camp, the guards stopped them, their eyes sharp as they scrutinized Leng Lie. In a harsh tone, one of them questioned, "Who is this man? Why are you bringing him in?"
The soldier leading the way hurriedly halted, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. He replied in a low voice, "This is... by order of the officer, I must bring him to see Lord Feng Huo Liao."
The guard furrowed his brow, clearly displeased with this sudden situation. However, after sizing up Leng Lie, he ultimately stepped aside and coldly said, "You may enter, but remember, any unusual movement will be met with ruthless steel."
Leng Lie's pace did not falter; he merely lifted his head slightly, the edge of his hat casting a shadow across his face. His calm gaze swept over the two guards with an air of indifference and pressure before he continued deeper into the camp.
The guards watched as Leng Lie entered the camp. Though they maintained their stern expressions, they exchanged a meaningful glance. They could not ascertain who this man was, but his presence was far beyond that of an ordinary wanderer.
Following the soldier's lead, Leng Lie navigated through the bustling soldiers and busy quartermasters within the camp until they arrived at the command tent. Outside stood two fully armed guards, their expressions cold as they scanned their surroundings with rifles in hand. The soldier leading him stopped and quietly reported to the guards before nodding to Leng Lie and silently stepping aside, clearly unwilling to involve himself further.
Leng Lie raised his eyes to observe the tent before him. The entrance curtain was thick and embroidered with the insignia of the Yangchuan Army, gently swaying and emanating a sense of military authority. He reached out to push open the tent flap and stepped inside with steady strides.
The atmosphere inside the tent was starkly different; the dim light was filled with a sense of order. In the center stood a massive operations table covered with a detailed map dotted with small flags representing troop positions. Scattered around were several battle reports and documents.
A middle-aged woman in military uniform stood beside the table. Her attire was crisp, and her epaulettes bore insignia indicating her rank—Feng Huo Liao, Commander of the Yangchuan First Legion. Her hair was neatly tied back, and her brow conveyed an air of composed authority. Holding a slender command baton in her hand, she pointed decisively at a specific location on the map while speaking rapidly yet clearly: "This is their supply line; if we can cut it off here, they will surely be unable to hold their downhill frontline."
Her aide stood nearby, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he held a smooth tablet in hand, quickly recording every word she said. Occasionally glancing up with anxious eyes, he nodded in agreement: "Yes, Commander; I will immediately dispatch scouts to confirm the situation in this area."
Leng Lie stood inside the tent, surveying the surroundings with a steady gaze, not uttering a single word. His arrival did not disturb anyone within the tent; Feng Huo Liao remained focused on her maps and deployments, completely unaware of the sharp gaze hidden beneath the shadow of his hat that was fixed upon her.
After a moment, Leng Lie slowly placed his hand gently on the hilt of the knife at his waist, as if preparing for the impending conversation. He seemed like a blade ready to be drawn at any moment, his presence gradually intensifying in the silence, drawing closer to the center of the entire tent.
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