Lin Yang flipped up onto the roof of the carriage, his gaze sweeping toward the figures surging out from the darkness.
There were a little over twenty bandits in this group. Their clothes were ragged and mismatched, weapons were crude sabers and axes, and greed and ferocity flickered in their eyes.
It was obvious this was nothing more than a rabble formed from a mix of soul masters and common bandits.
Out of several dozen people, only two or three had white soul rings circling around them.
"Form up! Protect the goods!"
Phil had also noticed those greedy hyenas.
Though nervous, he was a man who had traveled north and south for many years. He quickly calmed himself and shouted orders in a harsh voice.
The guards swiftly moved back against the wagons, spears leveled outward, forming a simple defensive ring.
"Lord Lin!"
As Phil's shout sounded in his ears, Lin Yang's eyes flashed sharply. Under his feet, two yellow soul rings shone brilliantly in the darkness.
Naturally, this was the effect of Lin Yang using "Blindfold" to distort others' senses.
If he were to reveal the true colors of his two thousand-year soul rings, that would be far too shocking and abnormal.
Even so, two hundred-year rings — the standard configuration — still caused a huge commotion among the bandits.
"A soul master! A two-ring Soul Grandmaster!"
A bandit cried out in shock.
The greed that had clouded their minds was instantly doused as they saw those two yellow soul rings, symbols of strength and rank.
Fear quickly rose in their eyes.
Just as some of them were hesitating, a massive ghost-headed saber suddenly cleaved one of the bandits cleanly in half.
Around the one-eyed burly man, one white and one yellow soul ring slowly rotated. He glanced coldly at the others, his face brutishly savage under slabs of flesh.
"Let me see who dares run!"
Seeing this, the bandits could only grit their teeth and charge forward.
Charging might mean death, but refusing to charge meant certain death.
Lin Yang did not care what they were thinking. His second soul ring lit up at once.
He flicked out a smear of blood. That splash of fresh blood rapidly distorted in midair, transforming into clusters of blood-red thorns.
Demon Body, Second Soul Skill — Bloodflesh Thorns!
The thorns grew and spread at a terrifying speed.
Covered in sharp spikes, they were hard as iron yet incredibly tough, like living caltrops of steel.
Like a giant net, the blood-red thorns descended straight down on the bandits.
The razor spikes pierced skin and split flesh with ease.
Once they absorbed fresh blood, the thorn-vines immediately rooted themselves in the host, feeding and multiplying.
Until the host completely died.
Accompanied by shrill screams of pain, the bandits charging in front were instantly swallowed by the forest of thorns.
"This one's a tough nut. Take that brat out first!"
The one-eyed burly man roared.
He knew very well they couldn't drag this out any longer. If it went on, the last shred of morale his men had would completely collapse.
He strode toward Lin Yang in great bounds, soul power erupting all around him.
His white soul ring flashed as a layer of faint white light rose along the ghost-headed saber.
He stomped heavily on the ground and leapt high into the air. The descending blade carried crushing weight, as if he meant to cleave Lin Yang and the carriage beneath him in two.
Lin Yang's expression didn't change. His fingertips moved slightly, and several thorn-vines suddenly tore through the air from behind the big man, deftly coiling around his legs.
Spikes dug into flesh. The one-eyed man's expression changed dramatically. His saber arc shifted as he hacked left and right, trying to cut these vines apart.
Yet when his martial soul cleaved into them, there was the faint ringing of clashing metals.
"What kind of freak martial soul is this?"
The one-eyed brute was both shocked and enraged. His first soul skill could not even deal damage?
On the other side, the other bandits had already clashed with the caravan guards.
Shouts, the clash of metal, and screams of agony painted the desolate wilderness with a fresh wash of blood.
"Die, you dog!"
A scrawny bandit, agile as a monkey, had a white soul ring circling around him.
With two or three nimble steps, he rushed up to a guard. His hand swept out, and the leather armor on the guard's chest tore apart like paper.
Lin Yang frowned slightly and raised a thought.
From the sea of thorns, three to five thorn-vines suddenly lashed out like whips, striking the one-ring soul masters.
They screamed as skin split and flesh burst open, stumbling backward. The pressure on the guards instantly eased.
"Bastard! Your opponent is me!"
The one-eyed brute shouted in fury.
Taking advantage of Lin Yang's distraction, soul power surged wildly within him and his second soul ring flared.
"Second Soul Skill, Rampaging Slash!"
Dark-red light roared to life on the ghost-headed saber, the blade seeming to swell in size.
With a savage, violent aura, the strike cleaved straight toward Lin Yang himself.
He clearly couldn't cut through the vines binding his legs, so he had decided to kill Lin Yang first.
Once Lin Yang died, the soul skill would naturally dissipate.
Facing the one-eyed man's all-out blow, Lin Yang didn't even look at him. He merely let out a bored yawn.
At that exact moment, the burly body charging forward suddenly froze. His lone remaining eye bulged in disbelief.
Puchi! Puchi!
In the next instant, a series of horrifying sounds erupted all over his body.
Blood-red, razor-sharp thorn-vines exploded from his mouth, eye socket, and every inch of his flesh.
The thorns were soaked in warm blood, which dripped continuously to the ground, splashing tiny blood-flowers in the dust.
In the span of a few blinks, this vicious bandit was reduced to a mangled, ruined corpse.
Thorn-vines were still growing from the remains, like soul-snaring ropes from hell.
Such a terrifying scene plunged the entire battlefield into dead silence.
Bandits and merchants alike now looked at Lin Yang with sheer terror.
Clang!
A large saber clattered to the ground with a harsh metallic ring.
One bandit, pale as a sheet, clutched his head and screamed hoarsely:
"I–I surrender! Don't kill me!"
That one wail was like the first falling domino.
Ding ding dang dang… Weapons rang as they hit the ground one after another.
The remaining bandits, as if drained of all strength, dropped their weapons one by one.
They crouched on the ground like quail, holding their heads and trembling uncontrollably.
Around the campsite, only ragged panting, suppressed sobbing, and anguished groans remained.
"L–Lord Lin…"
Phil walked over, forcing down his nausea. He looked at Lin Yang carefully, afraid to breathe too loudly.
"How…how should we deal with them?"
Lin Yang's gaze swept indifferently over the surviving captives. Everyone instinctively avoided his eyes, not daring to meet his gaze.
His expression didn't change. He waved a hand casually.
"Do as you see fit."
With that, he ignored everything behind him, flipping back into his own carriage.
All the follow-up matters were shut out beyond the wooden walls.
What Phil did with the surrendering bandits was of no interest to Lin Yang.
He only clearly noticed, over the rest of the journey, how everyone's eyes now held respect and thinly veiled fear whenever they looked at him.
The day after the bandit attack, the caravan officially entered the Star Luo Empire. Everyone finally let out a long breath of relief; their faces relaxed considerably.
On the fifth day, the caravan crossed into the Pelagi Kingdom.
In the capital city, Pelagi City, Lin Yang accepted double the originally agreed-upon reward from a fawning Phil, then parted ways with the caravan.