Chapter 1, The Decapitation of Marosha

Amidst the scattered convoy, Shalu crouched with his ample backside, trembling beneath the bottom of a wagon, murmuring the prayer of light with a quivering voice. As a seasoned coachman, this robust middle-aged man had removed his hood at the very moment the caravan was attacked—regardless of which country on the continent, if a coachman made such a gesture during a robbery, even the fiercest bandit would not lay a finger on them. This was an unwritten rule, ancient and effective.

The setting sun, like blood, slants down to the horizon's end, striving to cast the last faint glow before darkness envelops. Due to the towering mountains on either side blocking the sunlight, the Rosha Valley is gradually becoming dim, shrouded in a deathly silence that blankets the entire space. From various points among the surrounding peaks, countless fallen petals are lifted by the wind, swirling and cascading down like snow, amidst the splendid and graceful scene, yet subtly revealing a hint of desolation.

Kameray nodded slightly, his legs gently gripping the horse's sides: "Tell the brothers to be on guard all around. Although everyone has been enduring a lot these past few days, I do not wish for any mistakes to occur at this final moment"

In the gentle breeze, a small, delicate fallen petal sways gracefully, dancing as it glides over the imposing ridge. In silent stillness, its seven petals, as beautiful as the wings of a sprite, lightly touch a cold, hard object, and in an instant, they shatter into fragments and scatter away

The bowstring twanged, cutting through the air with a chilling sound just as the voice of Kamrei fell silent. Mathis drew his bow with hardly any aim, launching a white-feathered arrow high into the sky, accompanied by a sharp whistling sound, as it arced down towards the direction of the elf.

"You will get used to it, remember, you are a man," Kamrei said lightly, as he swung his arm down, the blade of the Zhanma cutting through the wind with a faint and eerie low roar, the tip of the knife pointing directly at the valley floor

Kameray's rock-like cold face slightly changed color as he grunted heavily and roared, "Enough! Everyone, move your asses faster! Tie every three carts together, split half the people to drive the carts! We leave now, we are heading back to Bianyun!" Mathis slowly put away his longbow and silently urged his horse to move.

A sharp whistle sounded at the moment he swung his knife, and almost simultaneously, several riders at the forefront of the valley's merchant convoy changed their expressions drastically and shouted loudly: "Enemy attack! There is an ambush!"

Twilight, gray and heavy. The valley lies in complete silence, with only the wind softly murmuring. Kamrei strides over the rigid, fallen bodies on his warhorse and approaches the elf.

"What a pity, I am not a bandit," the masked man said regretfully, shaking his head once more as he nocked another arrow

With a series of jarring, tooth-aching cracking sounds, two sturdy wooden carts in the middle of the valley exploded violently, their compartments seemingly torn apart by invisible hands, splitting into two halves, with wood chips flying everywhere. Blood erupted fiercely moments later. The lead horse, pulling the cart, staggered slightly, and a dark, long mark slowly appeared in the center of its forehead. Accompanied by a crisp explosion, the horse's skull grotesquely expanded sideways, and then its body was neatly split in two from head to tail, collapsing to either side. A massive spray of blood erupted into a huge red mist, staining the ground with an irregular red circle. At the center of the circle lay a pile of white, glistening entrails, subtly writhing and emitting steaming heat in the cold wind.

The sudden attack threw the entire caravan into chaos. Witnessing companions around him turn into corpses in the blink of an eye, all the accompanying guards began to wave their weapons in confusion and terror, trembling as they shouted at their startled mounts. In contrast, the reactions of the cart drivers were much more direct and swift—they immediately dove under the carts and began to remove their hats one by one.

"Uncle, be careful..." Sagar exclaimed in shock. Although his little mind did not understand why the usually gentle and humorous Mathis would turn into a fierce demon at this moment, Sagar had witnessed with his own eyes the bodies of those who had been struck by this magical electric shock— they were nothing more than a charred, grotesque mass of burnt flesh

"Boss, this time it's all food. There's even a cart of spices; no wonder there are so many guards," Mathis exclaimed joyfully as he lifted the tarpaulin from the last cart.

"Then... can you let me go back first? Because I am afraid of seeing blood; I get scared every time." That voice hesitated for a moment and spoke softly.

Centered around a valley, the ground within a radius of several hundred miles is uniformly brownish-yellow and hard, with a thin layer of saline-alkali on the surface of the soil. In this barren land, where not a blade of grass grows, blooms the most beautiful flower on the continent of Kanlan— the Seven-Colored Yuyin. It seems to be a testament to its proud and lofty existence, thriving in an environment that is often a desolate and frigid place rarely trodden by human feet. Just like the lone Rosha standing in the boundless Gobi Desert.

After witnessing this scene, the coachmen, after a brief moment of astonishment, fled from their hiding places as if awakening from a dream, yet one by one they fell under the shrieking white-feathered arrows. Among the overlapping bodies lying on the ground, warm, viscous blood flowed in winding streams, gathering into pools of dark, murky water. The once vibrant and ethereal Luosha Valley had completely transformed into a new graveyard under the dominion of the King of the Underworld

Although it was not the first time he found himself in such a scene, Saga could not help but tremble. Compared to children of the same age, his body appeared excessively thin and frail. On his girl-like delicate face, there were a pair of small, extremely rare deep purple eyes, which were filled with fear and confusion. It was as if he were trapped in an inescapable nightmare; Saga desperately tried to turn his head away, but his neck remained completely still. At the southern end of the valley, a bloody scene leapt into his frozen gaze without any obstruction, transforming into a terror that penetrated to the marrow, coiling around the small heart in his chest like a cold, slimy snake. It was as if he were trapped in an inescapable nightmare; Saga desperately tried to turn his head away, but his neck remained completely still. At the southern end of the valley, a bloody scene leapt into his frozen gaze without any obstruction, transforming into a terror that penetrated to the marrow, coiling around the small heart in his chest like a cold, slimy snake.

In a rush, the masked riders emitted low whistles from their mouths, their legs tightly gripping the horse's body, either pulling or urging, controlling the horse's momentum. Their bodies rose and fell with the bumps, their eyes flashing with a chilling murderous intent. The horses galloped like the wind, their black manes billowing like fire, but the arrows, swift as locusts, were even faster than the wind

Kamei gazed at the caravan approaching the center of the valley and said gently, "No one likes to kill; it is done to survive. Without food, many will starve to death, including you and me, my son"

The bowstring snapped with a sharp sound, taut and trembling. Matis held the severed head in his hand, inhaling the sweet, cloying scent of blood, slowly opening his eyes and nodding in gratitude towards the ridge. The second menacing blue serpent abruptly broke less than three feet away from him, vanishing silently.

The convoy was quickly reorganized. After the sharp crack of the long whip echoed, this team, which had changed hands, wound its way forward, heading towards another exit leading from the valley. According to the legends in the *book*, by emerging from there and then diagonally crossing the vast, boundless Gobi Desert, one could reach one of the most powerful nations on the continent, Morlia. The Rosha Valley serves as a hidden gateway between the two small nations of Adarok and Beluta, frequented by caravans seeking to evade tariffs. However, no smuggling team has ever dared to choose the infamous Death Gobi of this continent as a shortcut to attempt to pry open the border gates of Morlia. Thus, this remains merely a legend.

Kameiren gently shook his head: "I want to teach you something else, deception"

Father, are you going to kill again? I want to go home" A timid child's voice came from behind Kamray

Kamelei's expression darkened slightly as he frowned and said, "Saka, did you not hear a single word of what I said earlier?"

The wind grew stronger. In the cold wave, swirling and dancing amidst the sky full of flower rain and withered branches, there were also the long manes of the steeds.

As the convoy gradually distanced itself from the place of slaughter, Saka occasionally turned his small head, anxiously glancing at the elven woman who still lay on the ground, becoming increasingly blurred in his line of sight. The jolting of the horse caused the child's body to sway, mirroring his restless heart. Saka's palms still bore the slick and viscous liquid, remnants of the blood left from bandaging the elf's wounds. This was the first time he dared to actively touch blood, yet the reason was contrary to what Kamrei had hoped for. Saka's palms still bore the slick and viscous liquid, remnants of the blood left from bandaging the elf's wounds. This was the first time he dared to actively touch blood, yet the reason was contrary to what Kamrei had hoped for

Matisse gently stroked Saga's little head and sighed, "Isn't all of this a bit too early for him?"

Matis remained silent for a moment, then leveled the strong bow in his hand, aiming at the unconscious elven woman on the ground: "You are right, no one knows what will happen tomorrow; it is better to do our best with the matters at hand..."

The knight, with one arm drawn back and resting against his chest, respectfully bowed and departed. As his loud and sharp whistle echoed, the masked riders in the valley urged their horses to scatter, racing towards the surrounding ridges and valley entrances, their movements direct and swift, displaying remarkable coordination

On the ridges flanking the Rosha Valley, amidst the half-man-high dense thickets, are concealed a dozen or so tall, robust warhorses, their bodies glistening with a deep, lustrous black. They are restlessly snorting in the rising currents of air, their front hooves anxiously pawing at the ground, as if eagerly awaiting the moment to charge. The riders on their backs are all formidable in stature, their faces obscured by black veils, their hands gripping the reins with a steadiness akin to rock. Behind these cold-eyed men, they bear strong bows made of soft black gold, and in the quivers hanging from their saddles, the fletchings of the arrows are as white as snow.

As the sound of hooves and wheels approached slowly from the distant entrance of the valley, Kamrei raised his sword against the last rays of sunlight with a cold arch of his brow. The knights beside him swiftly drew their strong bows and nocked arrows, their movements both indifferent and rapid. An invisible and thick aura of killing intent quickly spread, filling the entire Rosha Valley.

The sounds of long arrows piercing the air, the cries of despair, the thud of bodies hitting the ground, and the startled whinnies of horses rose and fell in a chaotic symphony, weaving together a mournful requiem of death. The number of guards protecting the caravan had sharply dwindled to single digits. Even the two merchants accompanying the cargo met their demise under the rain of arrows. The seasoned killers galloped swiftly, weaving through the valley with a hunter's cold indifference, methodically shooting down the remaining individuals one by one

Kamei coldly gazed at the merchant convoy guards scattering in the valley below, his tone indifferent: "The old rules."

As they approached the valley exit near the *illustrated book*, Kamrei suddenly raised his right arm, and the entire team behind him came to a halt amidst a brief clamor. Sajia hesitated for a moment, tugged at his father's sleeve, and asked, "Are we going to bring that sister back? You promised me, didn't you?"

Father, I know... but I am thinking, this sister is so young, if she were to die, her father would surely be very, very sad. Father, can we save her?" Sajia raised her face, looking up at the sturdy and rugged Kamrei, and softly said, "If Sajia were to die, you would cry too!"

The tall figure of Matis surged forward, casually deflecting the saber that was slashing towards him. He extended his arm at an angle, ensnaring the opponent's neck with the resilient bowstring in his hand. As if sensing the gaze cast from the ridge, Matis delivered a series of fierce elbow strikes to the side of his prey's ribs. He then lifted the pallid, blood-spitting caravan guard and turned him towards the direction of Kamray and Saga, gradually tightening the bowstring around his throat. As if sensing the gaze cast from the ridge, Matis delivered a series of fierce elbow strikes to the side of his prey's ribs. He then lifted the pallid, blood-spitting caravan guard and turned him towards the direction of Kamray and Saga, gradually tightening the bowstring around his throat

"Sajia, stop trying to be a coward with your eyes tightly shut. Come, look, this is the most beautiful scenery in the world." Kamrei reached back and gently lifted a black-haired boy, about seven or eight years old, from the horse's back and placed him in front of the saddle. "There is a prey that slipped through the net over there. Yes, at this point, he can no longer be considered a human... Uncle Matisse is chasing him, hmm, there are still two horse lengths between them. Guess how this guy is going to die?"

The harsh "crackling" sound suddenly erupted, and a pure blue lightning bolt, as thick as a bowl, shot out rapidly from the gap in the carriage, tracing a long and winding arc in the air, directly aimed at the position where Mattis was located. At this moment, the one-sided massacre in the valley was nearing its end, and most of the masked riders, who had trampled through pools of blood and corpses, had seen this fierce arc of electricity, yet no one moved. Mattis merely glanced at the incoming attack from the corner of his eye and sidestepped to avoid it. He then closed his eyes, quietly listening to the lingering sound produced by the friction between the bowstring in his hand and the flesh and bones, a hint of enjoyment evident on his face behind the black mask.

Puff, puff, puff! The arrows, measuring ten centimeters in length, with barbed tips, spin and shoot forth, grinning as they embed themselves into the chests or skulls of their targets. Bursts of blood erupt simultaneously at the valley's bottom, and a dozen bodies fall silently from their mounts. These lives, consumed by darkness in an instant, stare blankly with wide-open eyes, collapsing to the ground in various rigid postures, some struggling, others convulsing. After the silent arrival of death, all that awaits them is decay. These lives, consumed by darkness in an instant, stare blankly with wide-open eyes, collapsing to the ground in various rigid postures, some struggling, others convulsing. After the silent arrival of death, all that awaits them is decay.

On the ridge, more than a dozen warhorses stood upright simultaneously, letting out loud neighs, rising like dragons with their four hooves, and charging down swiftly! Unlike their startled counterparts in the valley, they had already endured too much bloody slaughter. While fighting alongside their riders, some of the warhorses would even stomp the fallen enemies to death with their front hooves!

Matisse, riding close on his horse, laughed and said: "Boss, what a pity? Do you have your eye on this elf?"

The subsequent wave of arrows replayed a bloody massacre. Each arrow ruthlessly claimed a life, without a single miss. The guards within the caravan had already identified the location of the enemy, yet at this moment, hardly anyone harbored thoughts of resistance. While the promise of substantial rewards was indeed significant, it paled in comparison to the value of life.

The jarring sound of the wagon axle once again shattered the tranquility of the valley. Sagar and Tushub sat motionless before their father, their faces devoid of any expression. Mathis, with a hint of reluctance, wanted to offer words of comfort, but was silenced by Kamray's cold gaze, which had remained indifferent throughout. In the deathly silence, the convoy moved out of the valley, and amidst the cold, desolate expanse, it seemed that this solitary sound was the only trace of life stirring.

Kamelei shot him a glare and pulled down the black scarf covering his face: "I mean, it's a pity that the one left in the end is not a man; otherwise, it would be time for Saka's hands to get a taste of blood..."

At this moment, another sound lingered in the heart of Sajia, echoing endlessly and unable to cease. It was the sound of his heart breaking after being deceived by a family member for the first time in his life

As Mathis gradually increased the force of his right hand, the ebony longbow slowly drew back, transitioning from a crescent shape to a full arc. When the bowstring sliced through flesh as effortlessly as cutting tofu, severing the guard's esophagus and trachea, Saka distinctly heard a crisp sound. A torrent of dark red blood immediately gushed from the man's mouth, nose, and wounds, the sudden release of pressure within the body propelling the blood to an unimaginable height. In an instant, the brown alkaline soil in front of the two was stained blood-red by the crimson rain cascading from the sky. Yet Mathis continued to pull his wrist, methodically persisting in his actions.

We find ourselves in a chaotic world. Saka is a boy who, in order to survive in the future, can only rely on himself. Kamrei's beard stood on end like steel needles, and a cold light radiated from his sharp eagle-like eyes. "Anywhere in the Kalan continent, a person who cannot kill will not fare well. Some kill with money, others with power, and we, with our own hands. I am a rough man, and I only want to teach my son this one thing I am good at while I am still alive. No one knows what will happen tomorrow, and for Saka and me, the sooner he masters it, the better it may be."

Remember, all the people around you can only be divided into two types—friends and enemies. When facing an enemy, unless you can be certain that they have completely lost their ability to resist, you should never let your guard down. For example, right now, a wizard who has lost both hands poses no threat... Kamray lightly patted Saga's frail back, indifferently sheathing his knife. "Not all enemies appear fearsome; some may look weak and even evoke pity. Just like this elf in front of you, she is beautiful and seems very small, doesn't she? I believe you saw that lightning magic just now; if possible, she would kill all of us without a hint of mercy. As a guard of the merchant caravan, that is her mission, while our mission is to plunder and eliminate those who stand in our way. I believe you saw that lightning magic just now; if possible, she would kill all of us without a hint of mercy. As a guard of the merchant caravan, that is her mission, while our mission is to plunder and eliminate those who stand in our way. It is not about who is right or wrong; the key lies in which side can survive...

A small caravan was approaching. Dozens of riders at the front and rear were clad in light armor, their expressions vigilant, with single-edged sabers drawn in their hands. In the middle of the procession were a series of wagons winding their way forward. As they moved, the axles of each wagon emitted a continuous creaking sound, burdened beyond their capacity

Behind the wreckage of the horse and the carriage, a young woman lay on her back, gazing up at the sky. She had smooth, long hair, a gentle and beautiful face, and a pair of pointed ears that stood upright. She was an elf, and the faint blue glow of electric magic still lingered on her delicate, slender fingers. At that moment, it was the sword that had cleaved through all obstacles, piercing through her abdomen and pinning her firmly to the ground.

Kamerel listened to his son's tender cries, a hearty smile spreading across his lips as he swiftly swung his right arm! The heavy, elongated sabre leapt suddenly in his hand, vanishing with a fierce, roaring whistle!

A faint sound of a body falling could be heard, and a small yet strikingly beautiful blood flower suddenly bloomed in the dim distance

"Boss, apart from that woman, not a single person was left alive." A masked rider galloped close, pulling the reins to a stop beside Kamray.

Kamelrey nodded slightly: "Have the brothers come over, load everything that can be taken away onto the cart, including the corpses of the horses and the scattered grain bags, not a single bit should be wasted!" After a series of brief commands, he looked at the elf whose shoulder was bleeding profusely, yet whose chest still rose and fell slightly, and murmured as if to himself: "What a pity..."

"You almost killed my brother." Kamrei clearly had no intention of showing any mercy, as he bent down and forcefully pulled out the sword. "It is said that the Elven race never collaborates with humans; it seems that this is a rumor now?"

"No! Don't kill her!" Sajia's frail body stiffened for a moment, then she suddenly jumped off the horse and stood between Matisse and the elf, screaming, "Father! This sister's hands are both broken, please don't let Uncle Matisse kill her!"

As he acted violently, the young elf let out a muffled groan, and a terrifying wound in her abdomen gushed forth a fountain of blood, her delicate face, drenched in cold sweat, instantly turned as pale as paper. Kamrei stared into the elf's terrified eyes and struck down twice with his blade, severing her two slender arms at the shoulders.

However, the raiders crushed the last hope in the hearts of the coachmen with their actions. A masked raider urged his steed forward, galloping around the valley before casting a disinterested glance at Shalu, who was hiding beneath the carriage. When their eyes met, the terrified coachman seemed to feel as if the raider had smiled at him. Immediately, a sharp arrow shot through his forehead and exited through the back of his head. Shalu, bewildered, touched his forehead and, upon feeling the still "buzzing" quivering tail feather of the arrow, he despondently released the wind cap he had been tightly gripping in his other hand and collapsed to the ground.

It is a long sword. The spine of the blade is as thick as a cutting board, the edge is sharp and thin, and the black iron blade exceeds the length of an adult. The broad hilt at the front has a guard that curves like a cold moon. Under the blood-red glow of the setting sun, the long sword emanates a strange dark red hue, resembling the eyes of a demon in the darkness. On the continent of Kanlan, almost all knights yearn to wield such a weapon in battle; it is sharp and slender, capable of effortlessly cleaving both enemy and steed in two. However, only a very small number of individuals possess the wrist strength to wield it with ease. In Kanlan, almost all knights desire to fight with such a weapon; it is sharp and slender, able to effortlessly sever both enemy and mount. Yet, only a very few have the sufficient wrist strength to maneuver it skillfully. Proportional to its advantageous length is its terrifying weight. Those skilled in slaughter enjoy the ferocity and directness of raising such a long sword, its cold and decisive nature. Although it is a sabre, it is named the Horse Slayer.

The slender feathered arrow whistled through the air, swift as lightning, its white long feathers at the tail slicing through the twilight, as striking as blossoms of death.

The piercing cries of agony suddenly shattered the silence of the valley, but soon came to an abrupt halt—under the intense pain, the elf lost consciousness and fainted. Saka stood in a daze, watching her transform from a beautiful young girl into a broken body, a wave of nausea surged in his chest, making him retch repeatedly, yet he could not expel anything.