The climb took hours. By midday, Ling Tian reached the ravine's rim, muscles screaming.
He froze.
A horse snorted nearby.
Peering through the brush, he saw Liu Yang leaning against a tree, casually cleaning his nails with a dagger. Two lackeys stood guard.
"Should've just died quietly, servant," Liu Yang muttered to himself.
Ling Tian's fingers curled into fists.
Then—a rustle in the undergrowth.
A Venomspine Serpent, drawn by the scent of blood, slithered toward Liu Yang's boot.
Ling Tian smiled.
He hurled a rock at the serpent's nest.
The enraged reptiles erupted from the foliage.
Liu Yang screamed as fangs sank into his calf. His lackeys flailed, batting at the swarm.
Ling Tian didn't wait. He sprinted to Liu Yang's horse, leaping onto its back.
"You—!" Liu Yang's face purpled with rage. He drew his bow, loosing an arrow.
It grazed Ling Tian's cheek as he kicked the horse into a gallop.
Wind whipped his hair as he rifled through Liu Yang's saddlebag.
A map caught his eye—marked with a bandit stronghold and two words:
"Ling Clan. Key."
The Ghostfang Bandits.
His father's killers.
The horse crested a hill—and Ling Tian's stomach dropped.
The path ended at a cliff. Below, a caravan bearing the Azure Cloud Sect's banner wound its way along the mountain road.
No time to stop.
The horse plunged over the edge.