Bai Ruolan slowly stepped down the rocky path, her fur mantle fluttering in the wind as she walked onto the blood-slicked canyon floor.
She held her unsheathed ice sword at her side, her eyes sweeping over the carnage.
There wasn't a single survivor left standing.
"Miss Ruolan, the escort was a complete joke, they were just using illusion treasures to mask their weak cultivation," the lead elder reported, wiping the blood of a fake expert from his blade.
He gestured toward the long line of captured iron carriages behind him, his eyes gleaming with greed.
"But the cargo is completely genuine. Every single carriage is bursting at the seams with top-grade Earth-Purging Moss and Crimson Core Grass."
A smirk curled Ruolan's soft lips, an expression she had unconsciously mirrored from watching Senior Brother Mo over the past several weeks.
Her heart raced with a thrilling, triumphant ecstasy as she looked at the defeated wreckage.
