*Bang!*
A piercing screech of brakes tore through the long night.
Qin Sang was still hesitating. It was not that he lacked the courage to fight to the bitter end, but he still had a family—parents, brothers...
The searing pain shooting through his body dragged him back to reality. There was only pain; his limbs refused to obey. His body seemed twisted out of shape, crushed into a cramped corner, framed by the jagged, menacing teeth of crumpled steel.
The car spun violently. Streetlights and neon signs blurred into a kaleidoscope across his vision. Before his eyes hung a red cord; the dull-yellow jade Buddha at its end traced a brief arc before slamming right into the bridge of his nose.
Amid the shifting light and shadow, a fountain of blood engulfed the jade Buddha—an artery in his neck had likely burst.
*A car crash!*
Regret overwhelmed Qin Sang. The other side had struck first; he should never have hesitated!
Death. Everything he had worked for, everything he had cared about, lost all meaning, shattering like flowers in a mirror or the moon on the water.
The only thing left to ponder was where he was headed...
Surely, it was hell.
"I want to live."
Qin Sang's eyes widened.
The momentum of the collision had not yet spent itself; the world was still spinning. Before him, the jade Buddha swung back and forth, seemingly swaying straight into his soul.
A vortex of darkness swallowed him whole.
*Boom!*
...
The sun blazed like fire.
Rugged, rocky mountains rose steep and jagged, devoid of greenery save for sparse patches. From afar came sporadic, sharp chirps of birds, only adding to the sweltering heat.
Along the rough mountain path, a line of prisoner carts crept forward. Flanking the convoy, several fierce, burly men rode on horseback, cracking whips and cursing loudly as they drove the beasts onward.
These riders were not dressed like constables; their manner and conduct resembled bandits far more.
The cages atop the carts were exceedingly crude, clearly newly made, with raw white wood still showing.
Every single cage was packed full of prisoners.
His hands and feet bound, Qin Sang curled in the corner of a cage, a glimmer of clarity returning to his eyes.
Ever since regaining consciousness, he had been drifting in a daze, only occasionally having brief moments of lucidity. It was not until today that he had fully digested the memories of this body.
This flesh and blood was also surnamed Qin, hailing from a village called Wang Family Village. His parents were local farmers, and he had two elder brothers. Being the third child, he was known around the village as Sanwa—Third Child—and having not yet reached adulthood, he did not yet possess a formal given name.
The Qin family was hardworking, and with plenty of labor at home, their life was reasonably comfortable. Yet how much gold and silver could one truly dig out of the soil?
His parents thus harbored other ambitions. Not only did they send Qin Sanwa to study, but as soon as he turned fifteen, they took him to see Shopkeeper Wang in hopes of securing him a livelihood.
This Shopkeeper Wang was an old acquaintance of Qin's father and a fellow native of Wang Family Village. In his youth, he had carved out a shop for himself in a nearby town, making him far wealthier than ordinary farmers—a respectable figure in their eyes.
Seeing that Qin Sanwa was honest and earnest, Shopkeeper Wang agreed to take him on as a shop assistant. Naturally, Sanwa's parents were deeply grateful and readily agreed.
It was the first time in Sanwa's life that he had left home. Trembling with trepidation, he strictly adhered to his parents' teachings and worked diligently. This only endeared him more to Shopkeeper Wang, who even took him along when traveling to purchase goods.
Little did they expect the world to be in such turmoil. Not long after the shopkeeper and his young assistant set out, they ran into this band of bandits on a mountain trail. Shopkeeper Wang was decapitated with a single blade strike, while Qin Sanwa was bound and tossed into a prisoner cart, his life spared for the time being.
Poor Sanwa had never experienced such a calamity and soon perished of sheer terror, making way for Qin Sang.
Taking over another's nest, Qin Sang felt a distinct sense of detachment and alienation within this unfamiliar body. All signs in the memories indicated that this world was entirely different from his previous life, yet he had no peace of mind to dwell on such things.
The sun grew harsher by the minute. Exhausted and with his injuries stinging unbearably, Qin Sang forced himself to stay alert. Blinking his sore eyes, his gaze landed on the final carriage of the convoy, and he suddenly recalled the scene he had witnessed three days earlier during a bout of clarity. Even in the sweltering heat of high noon, a chill ran down his spine.
Looking ahead and behind, few prisoner carts remained.
There was no time left. He had to find a way to escape!
The convoy had traveled north for over ten days. By now, they were far from Wang Family Village; Sanwa's memories offered no help, and Qin Sang had no idea what territory they had reached.
At first, they had taken the main roads. The bandits committed all manner of evil, capturing many people.
Once they had gathered enough victims, they deliberately stuck to the wilderness and mountain forests, avoiding all strangers.
In this desolate wilderness, there was no hope of rescue.
If he wanted to live, he had to rely on himself!
Five people were crammed into the narrow cage. His bones aching from the crush, Qin Sang wriggled backward.
The prisoners locked inside were all young and able-bodied men—unfortunate innocents like Qin Sanwa who had been captured.
Qin Sang shoved back with some force, but no curses followed, only a few weak groans, filling him with a wave of despair.
Including himself, every prisoner was starved and feeble, whereas the bandits were all burly and mounted on horseback. How was he supposed to escape?
Just then, a gentle breeze brought a rare trace of coolness. Ahead appeared what looked like a jade ribbon—behind the mountains lay a river of modest size. Its surface was broad and calm, rippling with glints of light, flowing without haste.
Ancient trees stood along the bank, and waist-high yellow grass carpeted the river shoals, rustling softly in the wind—an ideal place to bury corpses.
"Whoa!"
The bandit leader was a burly man with a thick beard. Leading the troop to the riverbank, he turned his mount and rode back toward the carriage at the rear.
Unlike the prisoner carts, this carriage was draped in black cloth. One could not see who was inside, nor had the occupant ever stepped out.
Before even reaching the carriage, the leader dismounted. Shedding every trace of ferocity, he stepped lightly up to the carriage, dropped to his knees, and said respectfully, "Reporting to Immortal Master, this is the Chenshui River. The Chenshui connects to the Wuling River, and this land is already within the borders of Great Sui."
Inside the carriage, all was quiet, without any reply. The leader remained prostrated on the ground, not daring to rise.
After a moment, a raspy, grating voice came from within. "Build rafts, cross the river, and continue north."
The bearded man hastily complied. Just as he was about to get up, a fit of violent coughing burst from the carriage. "Quick... quickly bring two portions of blood food inside... Cough, cough..."
Qin Sang shuddered in horror, and an uproar rippled through the prisoners.
Whenever that Immortal Master demanded blood food, two prisoners would be sent into the black-draped carriage, and two hours later, two corpses would be brought out.
Three days ago, Qin Sang had caught an accidental glimpse of the corpses. Living, breathing humans went in, yet what came out were mummies—their flesh and blood drained entirely, skin clinging tight to a bare skeleton.
Those hollow, sunken eye sockets were still vivid in his mind, as if crying out with boundless terror, shattering Qin Sang's perception of reality to pieces.
Had his senses not been so sharp, Qin Sang would have thought he had landed in the eighteen levels of hell, though he couldn't recall which level's torture involved draining one's flesh and blood dry.
"Out!"
The leader ordered his men to fell trees and construct rafts, while he personally hauled two men down from a nearby cart.
Qin Sang quietly let out a breath of relief, but the despair in his heart did not diminish in the least. If he could not escape, he would outlive those two by only a few days at best. What was there to rejoice about?
Qin Sang fixed his gaze on the bandits building the rafts. Their efficiency was terrifying; in the blink of an eye, a raft was nearly finished. Qin Sang could only pray they cut corners so that the raft would capsize and break apart in the river.
Compared to being sucked dry, he would rather drown in the river and treat this life as nothing more than an extra dream before death.
The leader strode quickly toward the carriage, carrying the two wretched souls as they wept and screamed with whatever strength remained, while the bandits along the riverbank laughed and jeered.
The sound of water, wind, blades, footsteps, screams, groans, cruel laughter...
All manner of sounds rushed into his ears, throwing the whole world into sudden cacophony. A surge of irritable dread overwhelmed Qin Sang. His head spun so violently he felt on the verge of fainting, when suddenly, a shout thundered like a bolt from the blue:
"Fiend! Let us see where you run this time!"
Qin Sang snapped his head up. At the mountain peak, a dazzling burst of white light flashed and tore through the air, brighter than the sun itself.
The white light surged and flared—and seemed to be a sword!