Night.
At the foot of a hill, a bonfire burned fiercely. Two bandits—one tall, one short—stood watch, scanning the darkness.
"The boss is furious this time; who knew we'd chase after those people at the little camp and get tricked?" murmured the short bandit.
The tall bandit glanced at the fire below and lowered his voice. "Tell me about it—poor souls sent to scout were slaughtered on the spot."
"Good thing Captain Tracker went along. He sniffed the air and realized the scent was days old, or else we'd have blindly followed the trail," said the short one.
"We head back at dawn. I hope this time we get a larger share of water."
"Hey—look, there's light in the distance." The short bandit stood on tiptoe, pointing to a faint glow.
The tall bandit warned, "Don't stare. Those lights can kill you if you get curious."
"Why? Maybe someone's there and we can rob them," tempted the short bandit.
"Do you want to die?" snapped the tall man. "Nighttime Feral Beasts are terrifying—and clever. They create lights to lure prey."
"Really?" the short bandit shivered.
"Just wait—the light will vanish soon," the tall bandit scoffed.
"Huh? It's gone."
"I was right, wasn't I? The beast making those lights could be as large as this hill," he laughed.
"Alright, enough talk."
Silence reclaimed the night.
Before dawn the next day, Blood Beard's band had gathered and marched back to the Stronghold in forced haste. The mood was oppressive: Blood Beard had snapped several times already, injuring many. Even Night Jackal and Tracker, his top captains, dared not offend him.
At dusk they reached the valley's edge and saw Blood Knife leading about two hundred men in waiting.
"What are you doing out here? Who guarded the Stronghold?" Blood Beard's face darkened; his hand hovered over his sword hilt. An unsatisfactory answer would send his son to bed for days.
"Father, the Breeding Chamber is gone," Blood Knife said, voice quivering. "Thieves snuck inside and stole the valuables."
"What? And the Crystal Fish?" Blood Beard's beard bristled with rage as he seized his son's collar, spittle flecking his cheek.
"It's gone as well, sir—only some water and jerky were left," Blood Knife forced out.
Slap! Blood Beard's palm struck his son, sending him flying three meters. The Crystal Fish was the bandit crew's lifeblood and the core reason for their existence. Without it, the band would surely collapse and no one would obey him. If Blood Knife were not his only son, he would have slain him outright.
"Everyone else, clear out," Blood Beard barked, dismissing the crowd and leaving only his four captains and Blood Knife. He refused to re-enter the valley, perching on a roadside boulder.
"Explain the situation, now," he demanded in a brutal tone.
"Two nights ago, the thieves climbed up behind the hills and blocked the entrance from within," Blood Knife began, cradling his swollen cheek. "Last night we pried it open, but they were gone. We searched the entire camp—no trace."
"How could you be so foolish? Anyone capable of climbing the hill wouldn't hide in the camp waiting to be caught!" Blood Beard's eyes bled fury.
Crafty Fox, one of the four captains, dared to advise: "Boss, our priority is to track them down."
"Right—they haven't gone far. We can catch them if we pursue now," Tracker added. Though two days had passed, no one dared say the trail was lost.
"Tracker, what did they leave behind?" Blood Beard panted, restraining his rage.
"Some white cord," Blood Knife said, pulling translucent strands from his pocket.
"Tracker—take that." Blood Beard tossed the cords to him.
"Yes." Tracker sniffed the cords. Upon smelling them, his eyes widened. "Boss, this scent matches the ones who stayed at the little camp."
"You mean the people who lured us there and the thieves are the same gang?" Blood Beard's eyebrows shot up.
"Yes, the residue is identical." Tracker confirmed.
"Excellent—they actually tried to outwit me." Blood Beard grinned with yellowed teeth. "Pursue them! I want to see who dares mock me."
"Yes." Tracker bowed and sniffed the cords again.
"There's more cord here," Blood Knife called, and others brought forward every scrap of white cord they'd collected.
Sniff sniff… Tracker's expression shifted.
"Report what you found." Blood Beard growled.
"Yes—these strands carry two scents: one very faint, and one extremely strong—almost not human." Tracker's voice trembled.
"I don't care if it's human or not," Blood Beard snarled. "Can we catch them or not?"
"Yes, sir. Following the strong scent, we can track them." Tracker said confidently. As an Mutants, his dog-like nose could detect any human scent up to three days old.
"Unload all water and jerky. Once everyone's fed, we march." Blood Beard snapped.
He was determined to lead over five hundred men in a night pursuit of the thieves. Without the Crystal Fish, they couldn't be sustained; better to recapture it—or let some die to ease provisions.
"Yes, sir." Blood Knife led the men to haul the supplies.
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