Chapter Twelve: At Least It's a Shade Better Than Oblivion

Suddenly, more than thirty men burst out from the forest, and in mere seconds, they had encircled Ming Tian’s horse team so tightly that not a gap remained. Each of these men looked like wild savages—clothes in tatters, faces gaunt and fierce like starving wolves, their swords and knives stained with blood, the blades chipped and worn as if gnawed by dogs.

On Ming Tian’s side, apart from his three companions, there were only three coachmen and three guards. The outlaws outnumbered them by three or four times, and what’s more, these were ruthless mountain bandits, while among Ming Tian’s group, three were harmless coachmen.

These were real bandits, not the kind who waste time with banter like in television dramas—no talk of “This mountain is mine, this tree I planted...” They came only to enforce their “three-burn” policy: rob, kill, and plunder.

Without pause or exchange, the thirty bandits rushed in all at once.

“Miss Yin Chan, run!” An Luo shouted, drawing his saber and engaging the bandits in combat.

It must be said, An Luo truly lived up to his reputation as a Di Tribe centurion. The muscular warrior was no mere show; with his first two strokes, he decapitated the two nearest bandits, then held off four or five more single-handedly.

Ming Tian, though a white-collar worker in his past life, was far from helpless. As an administrative assistant, he often accompanied the chairman to social engagements, and billionaires are always at risk, so bodyguards alone weren’t enough—especially since they couldn’t join him at the dinner table. To earn the chairman’s favor, Ming Tian had devoted six years to fitness, training under the chairman’s bodyguard, who had served eight years in the military after graduating from martial arts school. Ming Tian spent nearly all his free time building strength, learning fighting techniques, and sparring.

Though his physical prowess hadn’t transferred to this world, his combat experience had—and with Zhuge Bu Liang’s eighteen-year-old body, even if a bit frail, it possessed excellent reflexes to compensate.

At the outset, Ming Tian broke a bandit’s knee with a whip kick, seized his sword, and, using the sleeve arrow Yin Chan had given him, managed to hold off three bandits with barely adequate defense.

The coachmen’s guards, though armed, were weaker; matched against two or three bandits each, they could only hold out for a while, but defeat was inevitable.

As for Yin Chan, she’d been nothing more than a nobody in her previous life, and had no combat experience. Now, as a woman, she could not contribute to the fight and could only cower in panic in the corner of the carriage.

The bandits weren’t fools. Leaving aside the three guards, Ming Tian and An Luo’s prowess stunned them—they hadn’t expected such fierce fighters among this horse team. Ming Tian was formidable enough, but An Luo, facing five or six bandits, had not faltered in the least, severing another bandit’s arm with a single blow.

Realizing things were going badly, the bandits knew that continuing the fight would cost them dearly. They quickly changed tactics: after dispatching the three defenseless coachmen, the remaining bandits dashed into the carriage to loot supplies.

“Damn! Don’t take my wallet!” Ming Tian kicked a bandit aside, catching a glimpse of another bandit emerging from the carriage with his bundle in hand.

These bandits, annoyingly clever, abandoned killing when outmatched, focusing instead on defense and delay, keeping Ming Tian and An Luo from breaking free.

“Do you know who I am? I am a centurion of the Di Tribe’s Zhenfeng Army! Personal deputy to the Princess of Jiangmen! You dare rob my horse team? When I return and report to the Emperor, your mountain will be razed!” An Luo shouted.

Mother of mercy, you idiot—do not complicate matters right now!

Sure enough, as An Luo bellowed, the bandits’ faces changed. Some sharp-eyed bandits spotted Yin Chan hiding in the corner and were immediately struck by her beauty.

Ming Tian saw this and cursed inwardly.

You fool, An Luo! Why expose your identity? Did you even consider what the bandits would think upon hearing that?

“You bastards! Let go of me! I’ll crush your balls, you hear me? Where the hell are you touching?! I’m straight! Let go, you sons of bitches!” came a shrill scream. In the chaos, Yin Chan was carried off into the woods by three bandits, her furious curses echoing behind.

The bandits, mistaking Yin Chan for the Princess of Jiangmen, took her away.

“Miss Yin Chan!” An Luo’s eyes widened in fury, his saber hacking wildly as he attempted to rescue her, but it was too late—the bandits carrying Yin Chan had already disappeared.

The three guards and coachmen were dead, the bandits had looted all the supplies, and those who had abducted Yin Chan, wary of Ming Tian and An Luo’s strength, avoided unnecessary losses and began to retreat, leaving only three or four to delay Ming Tian and An Luo.

“Die!” Seeing Yin Chan taken, An Luo’s face became demonic, as if transformed into a god of slaughter. He brought his saber down in a mighty stroke; the bandit tried to parry, but An Luo’s strength was overwhelming—he broke the bandit’s blade and cleaved him in two from head to rump.

Ming Tian had never killed before, but in this crisis, he had no time for scruples. Seizing the bandit’s knife-wielding hand, he pressed his left arm, hidden with a sleeve arrow, against the bandit’s jaw, triggered the mechanism, and with a sickening thud, the arrow pierced through the bandit’s skull.

The remaining two bandits, realizing they were outmatched, retreated into the forest.

Thus, the battle came to an end.

But now, the horse team was in ruins.

The carriage lay in pieces, and the bodies of coachmen, guards, and bandits together numbered over ten. Of the four horses, only one remained, its rope trapped beneath the collapsed carriage, preventing its escape.

The only survivors at the scene were Ming Tian and An Luo.

“Damn, I’m exhausted,” Ming Tian said, collapsing to the ground. It was his first time surviving such a battle, and he felt incredibly lucky—especially grateful for the sleeve arrow Yin Chan had given him, without which he would surely have died like the guards.

“Miss Yin Chan!” An Luo drew his saber and, without pause, ran toward the forest where Yin Chan had been taken.

Seeing this, Ming Tian shook his head in disappointment and shouted hoarsely, “Come back!”

An Luo stopped, constrained by Ming Tian’s status, but his face was twisted with frustration. “What do you want?”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To rescue Miss Yin Chan, of course.”

“Oh? And what was your mission this time?” Ming Tian asked.

An Luo’s face darkened as expected, and he stammered, “To... escort you to Jiankang to meet the Princess.”

“If you leave now to rescue Yin Chan, what punishment awaits you?” Ming Tian pressed.

An Luo’s brows furrowed, teeth clenched, but he couldn’t utter a word.

“Answer me!” Ming Tian roared in anger.

He wasn’t to blame for the current situation, including Yin Chan’s abduction—it was all An Luo’s doing, and he needed to realize that.

An Luo trembled at the shout, and replied fearfully, “According to... military law, dereliction of duty is punishable by death.”

After saying this, An Luo stepped forward pleadingly, “But Miss Yin Chan has been taken. Isn’t she your friend? Don’t you want to save her?”

“Save her?” Ming Tian laughed in exasperation, rising to stand before An Luo, jabbing a finger into An Luo’s muscular chest and scolding loudly, “Let me ask you, do you know why she was abducted?”

“Uh?”

An Luo blinked in confusion, not yet grasping the issue.

“Because of you!” Ming Tian’s rage was now explicit.

He was angry—truly angry. His experiences in this ancient world had been merely frustrating until now, but this time, it was real fury.

Yin Chan’s abduction was entirely because of An Luo.

“When will you learn to use your brain? The bandits saw how tough we were, and after looting, they were ready to leave, but you had to shout, ‘I am so-and-so, a powerful figure beside the Princess of Jiangmen.’ Did you even think how the bandits would react? Did you think it made you look cool? Or that they’d be scared? Huh?!”

An Luo, scolded so harshly, finally understood.

“How could this... happen?” After a moment’s shock, the burly man dropped to his knees, his saber slipping from his grasp, and began to weep before Ming Tian.

A grown man, so strong, crying like a child!

“I have wronged you... Miss Yin Chan... I hurt her... I...” An Luo, crawling on his knees to Ming Tian, begged humbly, “Please, Ming Tian, you are so clever. Think of a way to save Miss Yin Chan.”

What kind of melodrama was this?

Ming Tian found the sight of this sobbing man both distressing and headache-inducing.

Cry? What good would that do?

True, Ming Tian was no saint—just a humble white-collar worker. Yet, after crossing into this ancient world, Yin Chan was the only one he’d met who shared his experience.

It was like moving to a big city and meeting a fellow countryman; Yin Chan was a companion in hardship.

If she could be saved, Ming Tian would do so.

Moreover, her inventive talent and the position of the Traveler’s Alliance were invaluable.

After all, simply going to Jiankang to become the Princess’s consort would be useless.

It was now the first month of Yongtai’s first year. Emperor Qi Ming ruled the Southern Dynasties, notorious for his tyranny and habit of killing his own. The Di Tribe, though one of the Five Barbarians, was allied to Qi through marriage, giving rise to the Princess of Jiangmen, yet she lived among the Di rather than in Jiankang.

Thinking about it, Ming Tian sensed something was amiss—if he did become the Princess’s consort, life would hardly be smooth. The Traveler’s Alliance’s power would be essential.

Most crucially, Emperor Qi Ming would die in the seventh month of Yongtai’s first year, succeeded by the infamous Eastern Mad Emperor, plunging Qi into endless darkness.

In summary, Ming Tian concluded:

Yin Chan must be saved. Her abilities and the Traveler’s Alliance position were indispensable. If he fled now, sooner or later, he’d suffer for it.

“Get up. We’re going to save Yin Chan.”

...