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In truth, Li Yuan had simply hid himself. It was only a fifth rank skill, not nearly enough for high-level combat, but perfect for moments like this.
In the still air, invisible to normal eyes, his ancient frame shifted. Muscles stretched, bones realigned, flesh firmed up. Silver hair darkened to black, wrinkles faded, skin smoothed. His once-withered presence now radiated power.
One step ago, he was an old man.
Now, he was a vigorous youth again.
He crossed the river. There, he found the old woman, hair white as snow, skin yellowed and drawn tightly over bone. Her eyes were clouded, blind. Her back bent low under the weight of years.
Li Yuan followed her from a distance. He saw her despair. Her panic.
She clutched a cane, her fingers wrapped around it so tightly they trembled. Every few steps, she struck the ground ahead in quick, frantic jabs, trying to feel her way forward.
Her hair was matted with grime, her clothes caked in dried mud. Bruises in dark purples and sickly greens marred her skin. Someone had beaten her badly.
Then, from the nearby woods, two dark figures suddenly leapt out.
Blades flashed silver under the sun.
In the blink of an eye, they were upon her.
Bandits.
Ever since the Human Emperor severed the Underworld with a single strike, the land had begun to recover. Life returned, slowly but surely. Some toiled to rebuild.
But there were always those who thought, why work when you can steal from those who do?
And so, bandits began to crawl out of the...
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