Chapter 119
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 119
Chapter Title: Chapter 24: Birth of a Newcomer (4)
Clack! Clack! Clack!
The carriage rolled along slowly, as if out for a leisurely excursion.
The coachman never hurried down the road. He drove at a deliberate pace, considerate enough to let the passengers aboard fully enjoy the surrounding scenery.
That said, it wasn't slow going by any means.
The horses pulling the carriage were all prime specimens—breeds so fine they seemed a shame to waste on mere cart duty.
The horses stepped out powerfully.
They weren't galloping, just walking. But their long strides outpaced even a donkey trotting briskly. Of course, it was still no match for a full run.
Tss-tss-tss! Tss-tss-tss-tss!
Four Thousand Four heard the sounds rising from all directions.
The carriage didn't travel alone. After the horses took a dozen paces or so, an invisible barrier inevitably sealed off the rear.
That barrier consisted of no fewer than twelve layers.
Anyone trying to ambush the carriage would have to punch through all twelve. Only then could they reach it.
Tailing it? Possible from a distance, maybe. But even that got shut down. Twelve layers detected any pursuers and eliminated them on the spot.
The barriers blocking the carriage's rear came in all varieties.
Sometimes, it was just the lightest footfalls—one or two people moving. Four Thousand Four pegged it at one. At minimum, a single person formed each barrier.
Other times, like just now, there were more movements.
Up to a dozen or so forming the blockade.
From a lone individual to a maximum of a dozen—precisely twelve, in fact—working as a unit to weave the defensive net.
Chasing the carriage was fundamentally impossible.
Four Thousand Four considered the Zhuge clan's four great tracking arts.
First off, Golden-Eye Black Hawk pursuit? No good.
The twelve-layered barrier of the Hornet Lord covered sky and earth alike. When the carriage passed through a valley, eyes watched from the peaks.
No way they'd miss something as conspicuous as a Golden-Eye Black Hawk.
Green Fragrance White Rat tracking? Also impossible.
To use a white rat, you'd need to plant a traceable scent on the target first.
The Zhuge clan hadn't managed that.
What about the Ten Directions Network? Plant eyes everywhere across the land—couldn't that track them?
That one might actually work.
There were only two ways to evade the world's prying eyes: take a route so obscure no one noticed, like Fox did, or disguise yourself as utterly ordinary, the kind of person no one would spare a glance.
The Hornet Lord did neither.
Prime horses pulled an unmistakably luxurious carriage. Anyone with eyes could tell it wasn't common.
A watcher would spot it instantly.
Yet the Hornet Lord slipped past even that. Not just the Zhuge clan—tons of sects interested in the Heavenly Annihilation Division, like the Beggars' Clan and the Hao Clan, but none sniffed them out.
They paraded openly through the martial world while blocking all attention.
The Hornet Lord had to have some special trick for evading notice. It tied directly into those twelve rear barriers.
Either way, no one could tail them.
Four Thousand Four observed the twelve-layered barriers with utmost scrutiny.
Ssshh! Ssshhh!
Movements arose. Where did they start? Where did they stop? How fast were they? How many were there, and where exactly?
Invisible to the eye, so he tracked by ear alone.
And this... this was one of Four Thousand Four's specialties.
Neigh! Snort!
The prime horse halted.
"We'll rest here for the night."
The Hornet Lord spoke in a relaxed tone.
He looked as at ease as if he'd arrived home—like it was safe now, no need for vigilance at all.
Creeeak!
The carriage door swung open.
The coachman from before opened it. He bowed low, not daring even to glimpse the Hornet Lord's face.
Step! Step!
The Hornet Lord strode straight ahead.
The coachman slipped inside, hoisted Four Thousand Four onto his back.
"Ngh!"
The coachman grunted as if the load was heavy. But he soon carried him out, following the Hornet Lord.
The Hornet Lord sat before a pre-pitched tent.
A campfire burned in front, with two chicken legs roasting golden-brown atop it.
Perfectly cooked, not a bit charred—they'd been prepped at least half a shichen ago.
The Hornet Lord had planned this stop.
In other words, he wasn't wandering aimlessly. From the moment they grabbed Four Thousand Four and tossed him in the carriage, every mile followed a meticulously calculated route to dodge surveillance.
Tss-tss-tss! Tss-tss-tss!
This time, a flurry of movements—subtle tremors rippling wide as if all twelve barriers deployed at once.
Four Thousand Four shuddered.
Amid their motions, he sensed the icy edge of death's blade. Brutal killing intent hung in the air.
Tonight, many would die.
Kuh! Thud! Plop! Whoosh!
Short cries echoed in rapid succession. Too faint for most, but Four Thousand Four heard them clear.
The groaning victims couldn't even collapse freely.
The killer caught each falling body, laying them gently on the ground without a sound.
Pure, silent assassination.
Sssht!
Someone crept up stealthily and hoisted Four Thousand Four.
"We'll head out first."
No reply came.
The man didn't wait, launching into the darkness.
Ssshhh!
Four Thousand Four, slung over a stranger's back, pierced the night.
The man boarded a boat.
Four Thousand Four got dumped on the hull bottom, rags thrown over him.
Creeak! Creeak!
The lazy oar strokes echoed idly.
'They've shaken them all off.'
Four Thousand Four figured how they ditched pursuers.
In the darkness, when the killing started... plenty heard the faint noises. Not just him—others sensed the assassinations too.
The victims' groans were whisper-soft, but audible enough.
Those sounds? Deliberate decoys.
The pursuers braced for combat, no time left to watch the carriage. They had to face the killers head-on—or flee.
Meanwhile, Four Thousand Four slipped away.
Movement within movement.
Anyone else pulling this might fail, but with the Hornet Lord orchestrating? Zero chance.
Creeak! Creeak!
The boat drifted downriver.
Riverside folk ignored the humble fishing vessel. Small and shabby ones were everywhere.
"All clear behind?"
The oarsman asked.
"Clean. No tails."
Someone replied.
Conversation ended there.
Sssht!
The boatman approached, peeled back the rags. Darkness remained unchanged—still pitch-black as before.
He flipped Four Thousand Four over.
"This the guy?"
"Yeah."
"Take Passage Seven."
"Got it."
The boatman started walking into the gloom.
'Five steps. Left. Seven steps. Left. Six steps. Right.'
Four Thousand Four memorized the man's steps and turns. But he soon quit.
The man didn't know the path himself.
He had no clue how many steps to the next turn, left or right. He just walked until the way bent, then followed.
Scrrrt!
An ant's whisper sounded—so faint even Four Thousand Four barely caught it.
The man turned. The path opened; he took it.
This was a labyrinth. Not a fixed maze, but a living one that shifted on its own.
The welcomer specified Passage Seven.
Someone controlled it, opening the way for this man.
Some mechanism overlooked the whole maze.
Memorizing it? Useless. Not something the mind could map. The controller could twist it ten times or twenty on a whim.
'This must be Little Hive.'
Four Thousand Four knew he'd reached the Little Hive.
"It's Four Thousand Four."
"Drop him and go."
"Yes, sir!"
The carrier dumped Four Thousand Four like luggage and turned back.
The new man bustled about the room.
He ignored the heap on the floor, focused on his tasks.
One thing they all shared: zero wariness toward Four Thousand Four.
They fully trusted the Hornet Lord's acupoint seal.
Not even a pulse check or qi scan—skipping even basic verification.
Creeeak!
The door opened; someone entered.
"This the one?"
"Yeah, take him."
"Looks like a nobody. This punk caused all that mess?"
"That's why you get got—thinking like that. Green Division's specialty is 'ordinary.' Forgot?"
"Moving him."
The newcomer loaded Four Thousand Four onto a stretcher, face down to block his view.
His final stop: Thunder Prison.
Straw covered the floor. Follow it, and iron bars appeared—cells holding lifeless figures.
All vitality drained from them.
New blood in Thunder Prison? They showed zero interest. No dumb jokes, no newbie questions like "Where you from, what'd you do?"
Not a flicker of curiosity for the arrival.
Like the dead... Gazing at the inmates, Four Thousand Four thought of corpses.
They breathed, but life held no meaning. Zero will to live.
'Hoo...'
He breathed shallow and deep.
Struggling to break the Hornet Lord's seal somehow. Probing which meridian was blocked.
No use.
Precisely: his body didn't register. It was there, but numb to sensation. Like a floating head, body gone.
Had they all suffered the same seal?
Step! Step!
His jailers walked the cellblock.
The prisoners? Silent. Not even stirring.
Creeeak! Clank!
The jailers locked the gate.
Stygian darkness swallowed the cellblock. Not a speck of light.
'This place... worse than Nineteen Hells!'
Four Thousand Four scowled deeply.