"Everyone, get up. We're all exiles in the Dry Sea, there's no need to be afraid."
Lạc Trần spoke gently, hoping to calm them, but the captives only cried harder. The sound grated on his nerves, panic tightening in his chest.
The deaf blacksmith let out a sharp laugh, eyes gleaming with a hint of mockery.
"Sick boy, you've already crossed The Ranch, and you still think everyone in the Dry Sea's on the same side?"
Lạc Trần stiffened. The man's words hit harder than expected. His naïveté, laid bare.
After a pause, he said quietly:
"We're not here to capture you. If you don't trust us, just leave. Head north for about a hundred miles. There's an abandoned shrine, you can hide there before night falls."
"You… you won't kill us once our backs are turned?"
Lạc Trần's patience frayed. His voice dropped, edged with fatigue:
"Look, I'm not some deranged killer. What would I even gain from murdering you? If I were the type to profit off misery, I'd have enslaved you by now. Just go. Keep dragging this out, and you won't make it before sunset."
He understood their fear. But being mistaken for a monster still stung.
The Little Tathāgata gestured toward the unconscious cavalrymen sprawled across the sand.
"And them?"
Lạc Trần's expression cooled. He answered without hesitation:
"Kill them. We're heading into the White Elephant sacred kingdom. If they live, they'll only bring trouble."
A man in chains is humble. Set him free among his kind, and you never know what vengeance he'll nurse.
Best not to take that chance.
The monk raised a brow and gave a helpless shrug.
"Amitābha. This humble monk is sworn to compassion. I cannot kill without cause."
"Then trap them here," Lạc Trần said flatly. "The Dry Sea's darkness will take care of the rest. Even if someone comes looking, there'll be nothing left to find. Or these people may take justice into their own hands first."
The monk said nothing, but moved swiftly. His chi sealed the men's throats, no sound would escape them. Paralyzing their limbs was child's play by comparison.
Lạc Trần knew Little Tathāgata was only doing this so his vow of mercy wouldn't get in the way.
And just like that, the four of them turned and resumed their journey, leaving the fate of the White Elephant knights behind them in the dust.
---
About an hour later...
They arrived at White Elephant Forward Outpost 712.
A fortified square stretched across four square kilometers, enclosed by thick earthen ramparts. Massive Chi Ballistae jutted from the walls: towering siege crossbows aimed across a ten-meter moat that encircled the base like a coiled serpent.
A narrow wooden bridge spanned the water. At its head stood a checkpoint: ten spear-wielding guards and their commander, clad in iron armor, sword sheathed at his side. Over a hundred travelers waited in line for inspection.
When a tall, broad-shouldered, handsome man stepped forward, the commander leaned in and whispered something to his guard. The soldiers pressed spears to the man's throat and dragged him off like a thief. No one asked what became of those taken, no one dared.
Lạc Trần quietly scanned their group: a silent, deaf old man; himself, pale and sickly; a small, childlike monk; and Tô Mạc Tà, beautiful, yes, but not dressed to draw attention.
Relief trickled in. The commander seemed to be targeting only good looking men.
He prayed the man wasn't swinging both way.
Luck held.
The commander didn't spare them more than a glance before waving them through.
As their feet hit the bridge, a ripple of pressure swept through the air.
Chi, dense and crushing, rolled overhead like thunder.
"A Crowned Sovereign... Be cautious."
Tô Mạc Tà whispered, still haunted by their last brush with one. The memory of the Phù Trúc chief clearly hadn't faded.
Everyone bowed as a figure descended, everyone but the deaf blacksmith.
The presence spoke, voice echoing with command:
"Commander Phong, withdraw your forces to the city. Seal the gates and await further orders. No one enters. No one leaves. Understood?"
"I hears and obeys, my liege."
Commander Phong bowed, then barked the command to his troops.
At that moment, the Little Tathāgata stepped forward.
"Lord Lý, surely you recognize this humble monk?"
A middle-aged man descended from the sky, robes dark as shadow, a crimson scar glowing between his brows. He stroked his beard thoughtfully as he surveyed the group.
Recognition lit his face.
"The Little Tathāgata. The Pagoda informed us of your journey through White Elephant territory. His Majesty has prepared accommodations. I didn't expect your path to cut through the Dry Sea."
"I didn't, either." The monk gave a weary smile. "If I had any choice, I'd have circled it altogether."
He added politely:
"Lord Lý, may I trouble you for assistance in entering the kingdom?"
"Granted. Commander Phong, this is the Little Tathāgata of the Pagoda of Inner Peace. Treat them as honored guests."
With a sweep of his sleeve, Lord Lý turned to leave.
The monk hesitated, then asked:
"If I may, what threat compels a Crowned Sovereign to enter the Dry Sea himself?"
Lord Lý paused.
"It concerns your Pagoda," he said. "Ten days ago, a cavalry unit rode through this outpost. They struck down our men and captured our herds of two-legged cattle. Our patrols were ambushed. Few survived."
He let the words settle.
The monk's eyes narrowed, sensing danger.
"That... doesn't sound like something connected to us. The Pagoda has no cavalry."
Lord Lý's mouth curled into a slight smirk.
"They call themselves the Legion of the Cloudriders. Their commander: Lam Vân Hoa."
The name landed like a blow.
"If General Lam has returned... then yes, this involves us. Are you certain?"
The monk's gaze sharpened like drawn steel.
"You know her name carries weight across Jambudvīpa. We confirmed it using the Everwatchers' Mirror of Pursuit. There's no mistake."
The Mirror of Pursuit: an artifact that pierced disguise and illusion. Once used to expose the Blood Shade. A favorite tool of inquisitors and bounty hunters.
Lạc Trần hadn't expected the kingdom to still be chasing Lam Vân Hoa after all these years. That alone spoke volumes about her shadow across the continent.
"How strange," the monk murmured. "She was struck by the Soul Cleaver. Her cultivation should've been destroyed. How has she recovered so quickly?"
Lord Lý exhaled, a long, weary breath.
"Who can say what fortune she found in the Dry Sea? Not only did she recover… she's ascended. Lam Vân Hoa is now a Crowned Sovereign."
He shook his head.
"At Venerated level, she already threatened Jambudvīpa. If she reaches Sovereign... and leads the Crimson Tide's army again... His Majesty fears what comes next."
Lạc Trần said nothing.
But his chest tightened with guilt.
It was his doing, he knew that. Yet he held his tongue.
He admired Lam Vân Hoa's audacity. Freshly healed, yet she had already seized The Ranch, and now dared to challenge the White Elephant sacred kingdom?
Of course the emperor would send Lord Lý personally.
The Little Tathāgata spoke again, calmly:
"Lord Lý, sometimes former enemies become unexpected allies. The Crimson Tide sacred kingdom once cast her aside, abandoned her to the Dry Sea. She may no longer hold loyalty to them. If so, perhaps... a softer hand? Recruitment. Alliance."
Lý considered this in silence, his expression unreadable.
"I understand," he said finally, voice quiet. "But it all depends on Lam's intentions."
With a flick of his sleeve, he turned.
"Time is short. I must find her before worse unfolds. Commander Phong, see to it our guests are treated with the highest respect."
And just like that, he vanished into the sky, a black silhouette swallowed by the sun.
Afterward, Phong's demeanor changed completely.
From cold and indifferent to gracious, even cheerful, like a loyal hound welcoming old friends. He didn't say much, but his posture oozed deference.
His men, however, were less subtle. Their sour expressions betrayed their irritation at being left out.
The group walked on. The three spoke casually as they moved, Lạc Trần, the monk, and Tô Mạc Tà.
The deaf blacksmith simply nodded and smiled, content in silence.
Eventually, the stares became too obvious.
Lạc Trần leaned toward the nearest soldier and explained gently:
"He's deaf."
Only then did the tension ease. The soldiers glanced away, expressions softening, awkwardness settling in.