Amidst towering mountains, a long bridge spanned a river.
At the Bridge Entrance.
A man-made roadblock had been set up.
A dozen or so burly, broad-waisted men, reeking of banditry and armed with blades and axes, had stopped a merchant caravan trying to cross the bridge.
In the air.
A thick stench of blood also lingered.
Several bodies, hacked to pieces, lay on the ground—they were the caravan's guards who had resisted.
Without their guards.
The rest of the people were forced into a huddle by the bandits, squatting on the ground and trembling in fear.
But there was one exception.
Wu Dao, his nine-foot-tall, imposing frame cloaked in black, stood tall behind the squatting crowd. His physique, like that of a great bear from the forest, was exceptionally conspicuous.
He wore a bamboo hat that concealed his unusual black-and-gold eyes. Through the black veil, he glanced at the dozen or so robbers at the Bridge Entrance and was slightly surprised.
