A mountain breeze swept through the forest, stirring a few withered leaves.
Other than the uneasy snorting of the Spirit Beast warhorses, everything was silent.
The Knight Captain rested one hand on his sword hilt. Spirit power surged quietly through his body as his sharp gaze locked onto the depths of the forest.
"Who's there?"
"Come out!"
Behind him, the hundred Spirit Hall knights reacted instantly.
Not a single wasted movement.
Spirit rings flared into existence—yellow and purple lights overlapping as spirit power erupted across the rugged mountain path. Killing intent surged skyward, sharp enough to chill the air itself.
Inside the prisoner cart, Yu Xiaogang shuddered violently.
The sudden pressure crushed down on him like a mountain. He curled up tighter, teeth chattering, resentment instantly drowned by fear.
Rustle.
Footsteps.
Figures emerged slowly from the forest shadows.
No killing intent.
No powerful spirit fluctuations.
They were ordinary people.
A few Spirit Masters. A few Spirit Grandmasters. Nothing more.
Yet their eyes were blood-red.
Every single gaze was locked onto the Sunken Silver prisoner cart, burning with hatred so dense it seemed capable of igniting the air.
At the front stood the burly man who had spoken in the square yesterday.
His fists were clenched until his knuckles turned white. His entire body trembled—not from fear, but from rage and grief pushed past the breaking point.
The Knight Captain recognized them immediately.
Everyone in Spirit City had.
They were the victims' families.
People whose lives had been shattered by that fraud named Yu Xiaogang.
A middle-aged woman beside the burly man glanced at the disciplined knight formation. Fear flickered in her eyes as she looked at the Captain—pleading, restrained, silent.
No words were spoken.
None were needed.
Grief filled the space between them.
The Captain met the burly man's gaze.
Ten seconds passed.
Finally, he exhaled softly and removed his hand from the sword hilt.
He turned to his subordinates and raised his voice, sounding oddly tired.
"This area has good visibility. Brothers, rest here for half an hour."
Then, as if remembering something, he turned sharply toward the knights nearest the prisoner cart.
"You few—guard the prisoner properly."
His voice hardened.
"The Supreme Pontiff has issued a death order."
"This criminal must not die before reaching Blackrock Prison."
The emphasis was unmistakable.
As long as he lived… everything else was negotiable.
"Yes, Captain!" the knights roared in understanding.
"Rest in place," the Captain waved impatiently.
He dismounted and walked toward the rear of the formation, acting as if he intended to drink with his Vice-Captain.
Then—
Clang.
A heavy bundle of finely forged steel keys slipped from the hook at his waist and fell onto the gravel road.
The sound was crisp. Clear.
Inconveniently loud.
The Knight Captain did not react.
Not even a pause.
He continued walking, laughing loudly, slinging an arm around a subordinate's shoulder as if nothing had happened.
The victims' families froze.
Eyes dropped to the keys.
Then lifted toward the knights—who had already begun lighting fires, cooking meat, drinking, and chatting casually.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
The burly man was the first to understand.
A terrifying light erupted in his bloodshot eyes.
Hands shaking, he bent down and picked up the cold steel keys.
These were the gates of hell.
And the path to revenge.
"Thank you… thank you, sir."
He bowed deeply toward the Captain's retreating back.
The others followed, silently saluting the knights who pretended to see nothing.
Inside the prisoner cart—
"No! No—!!"
Yu Xiaogang screamed, shrinking into the corner.
For the first time, genuine terror flooded his murky eyes.
"What are you doing?! I'm from the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Sect!"
"If you touch me, my father won't let you live!"
No one answered.
Creak—
The iron door opened.
"Bang!"
"AAAAAH—!!!"
A scream ripped through the forest.
Fists.
Feet.
Wooden clubs.
The blunt backs of chopping knives.
They fell like a storm.
"Give me back my daughter's life!"
"My son was only fifteen!"
"Grandmaster? Be arrogant again!"
Cries of grief mixed with bone-cracking sounds and pig-like screams.
Not far away, Spirit Hall knights ate meat, drank wine, and even rolled dice on the ground.
Laughter continued.
No one turned their head.
Minutes passed.
The screams weakened—then broke—until only twitching and hoarse groans remained.
The families finally stopped.
They panted heavily, bodies splattered with filthy blood. Hatred slowly drained from their eyes, replaced by hollow exhaustion.
The burly man locked the prisoner cart again.
He placed the bloodstained keys respectfully beside the Captain, who was now "dead drunk," snoring loudly beside the Vice-Captain.
"Your kindness," he said quietly, bowing once more, "we will never forget."
They turned to leave.
Then—
Boom!
A massive blue lightning dragon burst from the distant forest without warning, as thick as a water bucket, tearing through the air with deafening force—
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