The Western Desert, somewhere along a trade route.
"Kill them! Kill these beasts, and the gold is all ours!"
"Rob them blind!!"
"Hold the line! Hold the damn line! If these goods are lost, the masters will never forgive us!"
Battle cries deafened the ears. Around a low sand dune, a brutal clash between bandits and a merchant caravan was unfolding in a spray of blood.
This bandit gang had been roaming the desert for years, preying on passing caravans. Every member was a human Gu Master, vicious, battle-hardened, and no strangers to killing.
Among the caravan's forces, humans were actually in the minority—the bulk were feathered folk.
Some of the feathered Gu Masters stood on the ground, guarding the cargo. Others hovered in the air, engaging the bandits in fierce combat.
Balls of fire flew in volleys, heat waves rolling outward, occasionally interspersed with wind blades that traced sinister arcs through the sky before slamming into formations and erupting in sprays of crimson.
The Western Desert was dominated by fire-path and wind-path Gu Insects, and their practitioners were the most common by far.
After a short while, the bandits had firmly seized the upper hand, suffering minimal losses. The caravan, on the other hand, was taking devastating casualties.
Han Li, wedged between the cargo, was already drenched in blood, his face blackened with soot.
During the latest exchange, he'd been hit by an invisible wind blade that carved a long, deep gash across his chest, which was still bleeding profusely. The soot on his face was from a fireball that had landed nearby, splashing scalding sand across his features.
"Damn it! Am I really going to die here today?" The carnage on the battlefield filled Han Li with despair.
He had struggled so hard to set foot on the path of cultivation and had narrowly become a Gu Master. But he'd been expelled and forced to wander without purpose.
To keep himself fed, he'd signed on as a caravan guard—never imagining that a caravan this large could fall prey to bandits.
"Run!"
"This caravan is finished. I'm not dying with them."
"Anyone with a brain, follow me. These feathered folk are done for—even if they somehow survive, they'll be executed by their masters."
With defeat all but certain, deserters began appearing among the caravan's ranks.
They were all human Gu Masters hired as guards.
"Those bastards!"
"Forget them. Save your True Essence—even if we die, we die fighting!"
The feathered Gu Masters gritted their teeth, seething with indignation.
"How can they do this?" Han Li stood stunned. He was still young, fresh to the world, and quite naive. Watching the human Gu Masters flee, he couldn't process what he was seeing.
"Why aren't you running?" A feathered Gu Master walked over and spotted Han Li.
Han Li let out a startled yelp, flustered. He recognized this feathered Gu Master—he was the caravan's leader.
"Your cultivation may be low, but in certain ways you're a hundred times better than your own kind!" The feathered leader sighed, then clapped Han Li on the shoulder.
His palm glowed with light. He patted Han Li's shoulder three times, and just like that, the wound healed completely!
"Incredible! Is this the power of a Fourth Transformation Gu Master?" Han Li was stunned. He opened his mouth to thank the man, but the feathered leader had already stepped past him and rushed toward the front lines.
The situation at the front was critical. The feathered leader had no choice but to join the fight personally.
Once a Fourth Transformation Gu Master entered the fray, the effect was immediate—bandits were sent flying, casualties mounting rapidly on their side.
The bandit gang had its own Fourth Transformation powerhouse, but he remained at the rear, watching coldly, a trace of icy amusement playing at the corners of his lips.
The feathered leader quickly dominated the battlefield, cutting a swath of destruction that set Han Li's blood boiling. The remaining feathered folk cheered with every kill.
But beneath the feathered leader's composure, gloom and heaviness weighed on his heart.
He knew. The enemy was ruthless, using these cannon fodder to drain his True Essence. Once the bandits' real fighters stepped in, he'd be at a disadvantage—outmatched in reserves.
Whoosh!
At that moment, a tremendous wind roared in from the horizon.
The sound was vast and terrible, like the howl of a primordial beast.
Everyone turned to look, and someone cried out: "No! A Golden Thread Tornado!"
The tornadoes of the Western Desert came in different varieties—golden thread, silver thread, iron thread, copper thread—each with different levels of power. The Golden Thread Tornado was terrifyingly strong; even a Fourth Transformation Gu Master caught inside would be lucky to survive.
Panic swept through the feathered folk. The bandits flinched for a moment too, but then, like lit powder, they exploded into war cries, their faces twisted with savage glee, and charged at the caravan.
They wanted to crush the caravan and seize its precious cargo before the Golden Thread Tornado swept over the area.
"Hold on!" the feathered leader bellowed.
The tornado was horrifying, and any feathered folk caught inside faced near-certain death. But they were born with the ability to fly—they'd be in a far better position than the human Gu Masters.
The brutal battle reached a white-hot intensity.
Every single moment, someone lost their life.
Han Li huddled among the cargo, defending as best he could.
His cultivation was too low to draw attention. The bandits figured he wasn't worth the effort.
He wasn't worth the effort—his meager True Essence was already spent, leaving him no different from an ordinary person.
Fireballs and wind blades on the battlefield rarely reached Han Li, because the cargo around him made both sides tacitly pull their punches.
The tornado hurtled forward at terrifying speed. Moments ago it had been on the horizon, but now it was bearing down on the battlefield.
The great wind howled, sending countless grains of yellow sand whirling through the air, pelting Han Li's body in a relentless stream of numb, stinging pain.
"Retreat!" Despite his bitter reluctance, the bandit leader was pragmatic enough to roar the order.
The bandits scattered like the wind, battered and bleeding, their eyes red—here fast and gone just as fast.
"Quick! Load up as much cargo as you can!" The feathered leader's wounds were grievous, but at this critical moment, the goods still came first.
The feathered folk scrambled to save the cargo. No one cared about Han Li.
The tornado struck. Helpless to resist, Han Li was sucked into its vortex in an instant. He wasn't the only one—countless feathered folk and a great deal of cargo went with him.
Han Li tumbled through the wind, the world spinning around him, unable to tell east from west. He drifted like a willow catkin, thrashed wildly by the gale, tossed up and down—death waiting at every turn.
With a sickening crack, he collided with something—stone or cargo, he couldn't tell. He lost consciousness on the spot.
He didn't know how long he was out before slowly coming to.
"Young man, you're finally awake." An old man sat cross-legged before him, his voice feeble.
"Who—who are you?" Han Li's mind was still hazy. He looked around and found himself lying on sand, surrounded by rocks, corpses, and scattered cargo in every direction.
"The tornado stopped? I actually survived?!" Han Li froze for a moment, then his heart surged with joy.
"Without me saving you, how could you have survived?" The old man smiled faintly.
"Han Li is deeply grateful to the elder for saving my life!" Han Li hurried to bow, speaking with genuine sincerity.
The old man nodded with quiet approval. "Back in the day, before I became an Immortal, I was in a situation just like yours. You being caught in that tornado—it happened because of me. My gambling contest with Tian Jin… I lost after all… Before I die, let me entrust my life's true teachings to you."
Central Continent.