The hulking brute, his face grim, fixed his gaze on Yuan Cheng-zhi. Since he was the first to speak among the group, he naturally drew everyone's attention.

Yet, Yuan Cheng-zhi’s reaction was markedly different. Facing more than thirty Red Turban bandits, he showed no fear; instead, a faint trace of disdain played around his eyes and brows.

The Red Turban bandit, being seasoned and worldly, could not possibly mistake that expression. His brow furrowed, and the people opposite him seemed increasingly inscrutable in his mind.

“Brother Liao, why waste breath with them? These horses are all fine; we’ll take them all. The Big Chief will surely reward us.”

A Red Turban bandit stepped forward, his eyes gleaming. His gaze remained fixed on the Crimson Silk Horses, but his heart was crueler; he actually intended to keep every single horse. As for what to do with the people once the horses were secured, he couldn't even be bothered to mention it.

Brother Liao’s eyes finally filled with a murderous glare. He reassured himself that in this world, one didn't easily stumble upon true masters. With his own Eighth Layer Inner Strength and more than thirty brothers possessing Fourth or Fifth Layer strength, they were more than capable of dominating this official road.

Indeed, how could a genuine master travel by the cumbersome method of rotating mounts? Moreover, true experts were rare gems, not cabbages from the market, available in any quantity needed.

Once his decision was made, his voice immediately rose: “You few, leave the horses and the cargo, and then you may go.”

Yuan Cheng-zhi sighed internally, remaining impassive: “Are you gentlemen planning to rob us on the road?”

Brother Liao chuckled sinisterly: “We aren’t robbing the road; we are relieving the rich to aid the poor. You have so many horses, and the cargo on them must be heavy. You must be wicked merchants. Leave everything behind, and Lord Liao will spare your lives.”

He Yi-ming let out a snort of laughter. It was his first encounter with horse thieves, and he was surprised they not only stole but even framed it as relieving the rich. Though, the money taken from the 'rich' might never reach the hands of the 'poor.'

Just as Yuan Cheng-zhi was about to speak, He Yi-tian called out loudly: “Uncle Yuan, if we surrender the cargo and the horses, do you truly believe these men will spare our lives?”

Hearing this, Brother Liao felt completely reassured. It seemed he had worried unnecessarily. These people were merely putting on an act of profundity but lacked any real substance. His expression instantly darkened, and he resolved to kill all four of them.

Yuan Cheng-zhi hesitated slightly: “Bandits are inherently inclined to kill the innocent. Even in our Jin Lin Kingdom, the reputation of the Red Turban Bandits is well known. They are ruthless and cruel; even if we hand over our possessions, they won't spare us.”

He Yi-tian adopted a look of sudden understanding and turned to ask: “Chief Liao, is my uncle correct?”

Brother Liao burst into loud laughter: “Old man, you’ve seen a bit of the Jianghu after running around a few times, haven't you? Correct…” His face hardened: “Today, you leave your cargo and horses, and you leave your lives too.”

While Brother Liao and He Yi-tian and the others were speaking, the more than thirty bandits had already slowly spread out, positioning themselves on the main road to subtly block the paths ahead and behind.

In their eyes, these four were already trapped like turtles in a jar, with no chance of escape.

He Yi-tian shook his head slightly, seemingly talking to himself: “Since surrendering or refusing yields the same result, why should we listen to them and hand over the horses? Right, Sixth Brother?”

He Yi-ming paused briefly, then smiled: “Big Brother speaks the truth.”

Watching the bandits gradually close in on them, He Yi-tian suddenly said: “Sixth Brother, however, they have overwhelming numbers. Perhaps we should offer them some of our cargo.” He pointed towards the scabbard on He Yi-ming’s horse: “This item is quite valuable; perhaps it can buy our lives.”

His voice was not low, and the few bandits in the front followed his hand to look at the scabbard on He Yi-ming’s horse.

Inside rested He Yi-ming’s heavy Guan Dao, over a meter long. Since it was composed of three telescoping sections, its true nature was hard to discern from the outside.

Brother Liao’s heart stirred. The horse He Yi-ming rode was a rare, magnificent steed. If this young man made a desperate break for it, catching him might be difficult. At least, without harming the Crimson Silk Horse, he had little chance of capturing him alive.

“Hey, you boy opposite! What’s in that wrap? Hand it over quickly. If it’s a real treasure, we’ll count it as your price for living. If Lord Liao is pleased, perhaps I’ll show mercy and let you live,” Brother Liao demanded fiercely, glaring.

By now, He Yi-ming understood his Big Brother's intent. He smiled knowingly: “Fine, since you want to see it, I’ll show you. But this item is more than enough to buy our lives.”

With that, he unhooked the scabbard from the saddle and casually tossed it over.

The heavy Guan Dao seemed weightless in his hands, like a mere wisp of straw, tossed effortlessly.

The meter-long bundle arced through the air for nearly twenty meters, descending from a height of nearly six or seven meters.

Thanks to He Yi-ming’s skillful technique, it produced barely any sound of rushing wind. Anyone seeing this would assume the package weighed no more than ten catties at most.

The other bandits showed little reaction, their faces bearing cruel smiles.

But the expressions of He Quan-xin, his sons, and Yuan Cheng-zhi changed simultaneously. After traveling together for several days, even Yuan Cheng-zhi knew exactly what was inside that package.

It was Old Master He Wu-de’s famous weapon from his youth!

However, he had always been puzzled why this weapon hadn't been passed to the Old Master's eldest son, He Quan-xin, nor to the eldest grandson, He Yi-tian, but rather to the sixth grandson, He Yi-ming.

But at this moment, he finally understood the answer.

This He Yi-ming was absolutely not simple; not only was his innate strength impossibly great, but his Inner Strength was surely superior to Yuan Cheng-zhi's own, and his mastery of its application was far beyond what he could imagine.

Yet, he didn't know that even He Quan-xin, a Tenth Layer Inner Strength practitioner, was deeply shocked watching this scene.

With Tenth Layer Inner Strength, one could certainly throw the Guan Dao to such a height and distance, but to do it so lightly, without any hint of imposing force, was utterly impossible.

Brother Liao looked up, his arrogant gaze fixed on the cloth bundle. He carelessly extended one arm, opening his fan-sized hand, and reached to grasp the center of the cloth bundle descending toward his head.

Suddenly, his expression shifted. Just half a second after his hand contacted the bundle, the arrogance and killing intent in his eyes vanished entirely, replaced instantly by disbelief and a thread of genuine, deep-seated fear.

He raised his other hand, seemingly to lift it higher, but the speed of the bundle’s descent abruptly increased the instant it made contact with his palm.

Thud…

A crisp sound echoed as the bundle slammed down heavily onto his head.

Brother Liao collapsed instantly, tumbling over, his body convulsing on the ground as if seized by a sudden epileptic fit.

The numerous bandits stared at the scene, dumbfounded, utterly failing to comprehend what had happened.

However, when all eyes focused on Brother Liao, they all sucked in a sharp breath.

The front of Brother Liao’s skull was caved in deeply, as if he had been struck directly by a massive hammer that had shattered his head.

Flecked red and white brain matter was faintly visible. After a moment of spasms, his body finally ceased all movement.

Time seemed to freeze at that moment. A profound sense of unease flooded the hearts of all the bandits.

No one was a fool. Seeing this, even the dullest among them knew they had encountered someone who was far from ordinary.

In truth, that Brother Liao was an Eighth Layer Inner Strength cultivator. While he couldn't compare to He Yi-ming and the others, a Guan Dao weighing three hundred and sixty catties shouldn't have been able to kill him so easily.

However, he had severely underestimated the cloth bundle. When He Yi-ming casually tossed the item several meters high and twenty meters away, no one could have imagined that the object’s actual weight was this terrifying.

Furthermore, He Yi-ming had used an exceedingly subtle force when throwing the Guan Dao, deliberately targeting the leader’s head.

All these factors combined caused the Eighth Layer Inner Strength leader, Brother Liao, to die mysteriously, unable to rest in peace.

He Quan-xin sighed deeply: “Yi-tian, Yi-ming, since we have struck, there is no need for mercy. Whatever they intended for us, we shall repay in kind.”

The two He Yi brothers responded simultaneously. They leaped off their horses like great birds and rushed into the thicket of bandits.

Yuan Cheng-zhi moved, intending to join the fray, but He Quan-xin held him back: “Brother Yuan, let the two of them handle these ruffians.”

With a slight smile, Yuan Cheng-zhi relaxed. If it were Li Ling-tong here, he would have made the same choice. The martial skills of these bandits were not formidable—perfect practice material for the younger generation.

Yet, his gaze settled on He Yi-ming, and he suddenly asked: “Brother He, what level of Inner Strength has Young Nephew Yi-ming reached now?”

He Quan-xin offered a simple, honest smile: “His talent is good, so he is a bit higher.”

Yuan Cheng-zhi nodded as if grasping the implication, yet how could he know how impossibly high that ‘a bit higher’ truly was?

He Yi-tian was already twenty-four and, under the deliberate training of his elders, had experienced several real battles. Especially at the age of twenty, he had joined official government operations to suppress bandits, engaging in real combat with these fierce thieves.

Thus, his ruthlessness in striking far surpassed that of ordinary young men.

A long sword danced in his hands with a whistling sound. Although Earth Element techniques excelled in defense, when the strength difference was too vast, they could also kill swiftly.

The long sword flew in his hands as if alive. Anyone who met him head-on had their weapons flicked away within two or three moves, or bore a transparent puncture wound. He showed no mercy, and in an instant, he had wounded or killed seven or eight men.

He Yi-ming’s movements were far less dramatic than Yi-tian’s. He moved through the crowd as if strolling in a garden. But wherever he passed, if there was someone there, he would reach out and grab them, tossing them into the air.

This toss was extraordinary. Not only did the victim’s entire body go numb, incapable of exerting any force, but they also traced a graceful arc high in the air, finally landing twenty meters away on the ground.

Only then did the bandits begin to understand why the scabbard had appeared so light yet possessed the power to crush a man’s skull.

Though the bandits were numerous and vicious, whether they attacked with drawn blades or attempted to flee, they simply could not escape He Yi-ming’s reach.

He Yi-ming simply grasped and tossed. It seemed he had no other technique, yet this simplicity, taken to its extreme, manifested astonishing power.

A moment later, the twenty bandits blocking the front had all experienced the sensation of becoming flying men, ultimately thrown twenty meters away to a corner of the official road, groaning in pain.

He Yi-ming had infused only a tiny trace of True Qi, enough to completely disrupt their Inner Strength circulation. Now they couldn't muster any Qi, and even strenuous movement was impossible.

This was the gap between True Qi and Inner Strength; they simply weren't on the same level.

A short while later, the remaining bandits in the rear let out a cry, daring not engage He Yi-tian further. They turned and fled, their sole hope being that no one pursued them.

He Yi-tian let out a long cry and darted like lightning along the road, slaying most of the escapees with his sword. Only one, extremely agile, bolted towards the river and immediately plunged into the water without hesitation.

The river water was cold, but compared to losing one’s life, a cold bath was insignificant.

He Quan-xin let out a cold snort. He was dissatisfied that anyone escaped, but he did not intervene. Dealing with bandits whose cultivation ranged only from Third to Fifth Layer Inner Strength was beneath his dignity to personally handle.

“What about these men?” He Yi-ming asked, pointing at the pile of twenty men groaning together.

He Quan-xin shook his head gently: “Yi-ming, how did these men intend to treat us earlier?”

“They wanted to seize our horses and money.”

“And after taking them?” He Quan-xin continued to ask calmly.

He Yi-ming opened his mouth but said nothing.

He Quan-xin sighed: “Yi-ming, you should understand why Yi-tian asked them those questions earlier.” He paused, then stated coldly: “These men intended to kill us on the spot after stealing our goods.”

He Yi-ming glanced at Brother Liao’s corpse. Those were the leader’s own words, which was why He Yi-ming had made him the first target.

But looking at the group of shrieking bandits now, his heart wavered.

Yuan Cheng-zhi remained silent beside them. This was He Quan-xin instructing his disciples; it was not the right moment for an outsider to interrupt.

Seeing He Yi-ming’s hesitant expression, He Quan-xin shook his head again: “Yi-ming, these men were all captured by you. How you choose to deal with them is up to you; we will not interfere.”

Saying this, he gently patted his mount and said: “We will wait for you at the town ahead. You ride fast; catch up on your own.”

Yuan Cheng-zhi mounted his horse and followed He Quan-xin forward. He Yi-tian finished wiping the grime from his sword on a bandit corpse, then clapped He Yi-ming on the shoulder: “Yi-ming, whatever you decide, I will support you.”

With that, he also vaulted onto his horse and rode off after them.

Suddenly, only He Yi-ming remained alone, amidst the corpses, the howling wounded, and the more than thirty masterless mounts.

So many horses represented considerable wealth, but everyone was pressed for time and had no leisure to deal with such minor matters; they had to be left abandoned.

He Yi-ming pondered for a moment, then walked over to Brother Liao’s side and retrieved the long scabbard.

The wrapping was smeared with red and white brain matter, looking quite gruesome. He Yi-ming unwrapped and discarded the outermost layer. Fortunately, the leather underneath was clean. After a few wipes, it was tidied up.

The Crimson Silk Horse obediently trotted over to He Yi-ming, nudging him with its great head.

When this horse was first with him, it had been somewhat defiant, but after He Yi-ming applied slight pressure with his legs, it became perfectly tractable ever since.

Now, even at the He Family Estate, no one other than He Yi-ming could ride it alone.

His gaze shifted to the groaning mass of captured men. Although these bandits cried out in pain, their spirits were completely shattered. One by one, they began to plead for mercy.

They knew this was their only chance to live, so they pleaded with all their might.

He Yi-ming’s expression fluctuated. The official road, though rarely traveled, did see some traffic. But the few who passed by took one look at the scene, their faces changing drastically, and spurred their horses on, not daring to stop for a moment.

Finally, He Yi-ming let out a soft sigh; he had ultimately chosen not to strike.

Turning, he mounted the Crimson Silk Horse and tapped it lightly twice. The magnificent steed instantly transformed into a streak of red light, vanishing down one end of the official road.

Not long after, he caught up with his uncle and the others.

He Quan-xin and the others had clearly slowed their pace intentionally, which allowed him to catch up so quickly.

They did not inquire about how He Yi-ming dealt with the bandits. Perhaps what He Quan-xin sought was not the outcome, but merely to grant him the process of contemplation.

Once the group reunited, their speed increased immediately, as if the minor interlude with the bandits had never happened. They pushed their horses hard towards Jin Lin.

P.S.: Another chapter in two minutes ^_^