Chapter 31: Doubt and Belief Intertwined

Chapter 31: Doubt and Belief Intertwined

If they couldn’t avoid it, they wouldn’t run.

As the five pressed forward, Li Chaofeng subtly raised two fingers, signaling that two people lay ahead. Soon after, Hu Tiehua’s ears twitched—he’d caught the faintest groans, the kind of desperate, gurgling sounds a dying man makes in his final moments.

If Li Chaofeng hadn’t warned them beforehand that enemies were lying in wait, Hu Tiehua might’ve rushed to help. But now, the trio of Chu, Hu, and Ji resolved to investigate. This ambush was clearly meant for them, and having dodged once, they had no intention of fleeing again.

“Stay here, Snake Brat. I’ll check it out. Let’s see who cares so much about where we’re going,” Hu Tiehua growled. Though he loved the sun, the desert’s relentless glare irritated him, and the prospect of a fight sharpened his mood.

But Ji Bingyan, ever cautious, hesitated. The three martial experts could handle themselves, but Shi Tuo, the unarmed one, would be vulnerable if left alone with the camels. Ji’s eyes narrowed toward the sound. “We’ll go together.”

Cresting the dune, they found two naked figures sprawled in the sand. Chu Liuxiang and Ji Bingyan stiffened—their bodies showed no signs of hiding anything.

“Snake Brat, you sure they’re poisoned?” Hu Tiehua barked, turning to Li Chaofeng, who pointed to his own hair.

The poison was in their hair.

Li’s debts to the Flower Madman hadn’t been wasted. From a mile away, he’d sensed someone ahead; half a mile, he’d narrowed it to two. Now, he’d pinpointed the toxin. His nose alone made Hu’s hygiene complaints seem petty.

Hu stared at the emaciated figures, their skin blistered by the sun. Pity stirred in him, but he wasn’t foolish. If Li said the Blood-Sealing Throat Poison was there, it was.

“I’ll check.”

Hu strode forward, gripping the first man’s hair without hesitation.

The “victims” sprang into action. Their sunburned faces, it turned out, were just masks—layers of human skin stretched over their heads. As Hu’s fingers closed in, they lunged, clawing at his wrists like drowning men grasping for life.

Hu’s eyes gleamed. He twisted his hand, dodging their grab, and seized a fistful of hair.

The ambushers knew their ruse had failed. One sprang up, hurling black-darted flashes at Hu, who sidestepped sharply. The other vaulted over him, aiming a blinding strike at the water pouches on the camels.

Ping! Ping! Ping!

Had Chu and Ji been unprepared, the attack might’ve worked. But Li, Chu, and Ji had been expecting it. Dozens of needles flew—only to be deflected midair by Ji’s blade and Chu’s weapon. Li, standing guard behind them, slashed his 1.6-foot short sword, batting away the last two with a spark of steel.

The caravan remained unscathed. Hu, meanwhile, had already crushed both men’s necks in his iron grip.

The attackers spat their final threat: “You’ll die! Don’t think surviving today means you’ll live tomorrow! Hahahaha!”

One twisted his own neck using Hu’s grip; the other spat black blood and collapsed.

“Damn it—they had poison capsules!” Chu shouted as Hu stared at the corpses in his hands.

Li rolled his eyes. “If their mouth poison were strong enough to reach my nose, they’d have died long before now.”

Hu scratched his head sheepishly. “Heh. Makes sense. Old Stinkbug—think these two were Zhamuhu’s men?”

Chu frowned. “Let’s search them first.”

Zhamuhu, the Desert King, had countless followers—but he despised underhanded tactics. A ruler like him killed openly, brazenly. If he failed, he’d simply send more men, even forcing enemies to deliver themselves to his blade. Such was the pride of a tyrant. Death Warriors who committed suicide to hide secrets were tools beneath his dignity.

Hu stripped the bodies. The fake human-skin masks came off, revealing a hidden-weapon syringe of terrifying craftsmanship. Chu’s face darkened. This device surpassed even the “Nine Heavens Ten Lands Heaven Devil Divine Needles” in precision. Only three people in the world could’ve engineered it: the Tang Clan Leader of Shu, the Zhu Elder of Jiangnan’s Nine Curves Hall… and himself.

Ji, meanwhile, studied Shi Tuo, who’d been acting strangely since cresting the dune. The blind, deaf, and mute Shi had suddenly cowered among the camels.

Shi Tuo, the former eldest apprentice of Huashan’s Seven Swordsmen, was the sole survivor of Stone Guanyin’s massacre. He knew his sect couldn’t challenge her, even if they still existed. After escaping, he’d avoided seeking help from his old companions, fearing discovery. He worked for Ji only to repay a life debt—and might vanish the day he deemed it settled.

Yet here he was, trembling in the desert heat. Ji’s suspicion grew. The attackers’ fake eye wounds mirrored Shi Tuo’s injuries. The air shimmered with heat, clouding his thoughts.

He glanced at Chu and Hu, then fixed Li with a wary stare. “Li, have you heard of Stone Guanyin?”

Li nodded coolly. “Heard the name. Never met her. Just know she’s beautiful enough to earn that title.”

Chu and Hu exchanged glances. They knew Stone Guanyin well—Jianghu’s most beautiful, ruthless, and lethal woman.

Ji’s distrust of Li deepened. That uncanny nose… unless these Death Warriors had been working with him all along?

Hu caught Ji’s meaning and snarled, “You think I’m one of her lackeys, you damn rooster?!”

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end