Atop a giant banyan tree with lush, sprawling leaves that spread out like a vast green canopy—on one of its broad, gnarled branches thick enough to bear the weight of ten men—the three of them observed sharply, their bodies perfectly still as they peered down at the fortress below. They moved with the silence of shadows, their breathing slow and steady as they mimicked the patience of an eagle stalking its prey, every muscle coiled and ready for action. The tree’s massive trunk rose more than forty meters into the air, its bark rough and deeply furrowed, offering perfect cover as they pressed themselves against its sturdy limbs.The density of the great tree was the very reason A Fu chose it as their vantage point. Not only was it difficult to spot them from below—its thick foliage creating a natural screen that blended their forms into the dappled green and brown of the forest canopy—but from this towering height they could clearly see the inside of the fortress, its layout laid out

Judging from their speed, the thirty elite members were clearly well-trained and possessed high-level martial skills—their bodies moved with the fluid precision of water flowing through stone, each leap from branch to branch executed with perfect timing and balance. This was proven by how they could keep up with the pace of Cheng Yu, Mo Lin, and Braga, men whose combat abilities had been honed through years of training under A Fu himself. Not a single one fell behind, their breathing steady even as they pushed their bodies to the limit, their eyes sharp and alert for any sign of danger.Two hours later, the sun began to rise in the eastern sky, painting the horizon in brilliant shades of gold and crimson that cut through the forest canopy like shafts of fire. They weren’t running along the ground—where fallen branches and soft earth would slow their progress—but instead darting from tree to tree, their feet barely touching the broad limbs as they soared through the air. They did this

One of A Fu’s disciples—his black robes billowing as he moved with practiced grace—stepped forward swiftly and struck several acupoints around Sun Zu’s wounds with precise finger flicks. Each touch was firm yet controlled, sending tiny pulses of energy through the old man’s body to stem the flow of blood. Within moments, the crimson seepage from Sun Zu’s cuts slowed to a trickle, then stopped entirely.“Thank you,” said Sun Zu, his voice rough but steady as he straightened his posture, wincing only slightly as his muscles pulled against the healing injuries. He brushed a strand of gray hair from his forehead, his weathered face etched with gratitude and resolve.“You’re welcome, Elder. Let’s finish them off,” replied the disciple, his masked face giving no hint of emotion, though his grip on his double-edged dagger tightened. The other four disciples moved into formation beside him—two taking the left flank, two the right—their movements coordinated as if they shared a single mind.Su

Cheng Yu remained silent for quite some time, his gaze fixed on the ground as he wrestled with the weight of his master’s question. Every fiber of his being was torn between accepting the path A Fu offered or rejecting it to hold onto the life he had built.On one hand, his master was the one who had done so much for him—more than anyone else in his life. A Fu had taken him in when he was just a homeless orphan, feeding him, clothing him, and teaching him the ways of martial arts. He was not only a teacher but also a father figure who had shaped him from a naïve and simple young man into a warrior with formidable skills, someone respected and feared across the region. On the other hand, Cheng Yu found it difficult to abandon the fortress he had spent years building up, commanding nearly a thousand loyal followers who had sworn their lives to him and to the cause they all believed in. The stronghold was more than just stone and wood to him—it was home, a place where he had forged bonds

“My apologies, Prince. A hundred meters ahead, along the main path through the forest, about three hundred men are already prepared to greet us,” the scout reported, bowing his head respectfully as he stood before Fang An. His breathing was slightly ragged from his swift run back to the camp, and his eyes were wide with the tension of what he had seen. “They’ve set up barricades across the trail and positioned archers in the trees above. Every man carries a sword or spear—they’re ready for a fight.”“Only three hundred? Where are the rest?” Fang An’s brow furrowed deeply, his expression darkening with confusion. By his calculations during yesterday’s scouting, and from what Cheng Yu had told him about the fortress’s strength, there should have been around a thousand men inside—enough to mount a far more formidable defense than this. He turned to look toward the fortress, visible as a dark silhouette through the trees in the distance, and wondered what Qian Hao was planning.“I do not