Night fell.
Blood Beard shot a cold glance at the Tracker who had just arrived. His voice was icy as he asked, "Have you tracked any sign of the thief?"
The Tracker, his brow still wet with sweat, pointed in a direction. "Yes, boss. We've traced them—they headed that way."
"Then move out at once." Blood Beard rose and cast a last look at the Stronghold valley behind him. Without the Crystal Fish, everything here was worthless. The secret elixir formulas for human enhancement had also been stolen.
Blood Beard didn't care much—the formulas were already memorized. Besides, the elixirs were of no use to him now.
"Lazybones! Get moving!" Blood Beard drew his long knife and shouted, "Anyone who drags their feet, I'll cut in two!"
The well-fed bandits, who had rested for less than three hours, scrambled to their feet in fearful silence, afraid of being cleaved by Blood Beard.
"Whoever catches up to the thief…" Blood Beard raised his voice, "I'll reward a hundred barrels of water and a thousand pounds of jerky!"
He wasn't a foolish leader—after wielding the stick, he offered the carrot.
"Yeah!!!" The bandits cheered, pumped by greed. A hundred barrels of water and a thousand pounds of jerky—they could ration that for over a year.
"Move out." Blood Beard flourished his knife.
"This way." The Tracker smartly guided them.
In the darkness, over five hundred torch-bearing bandits pressed into the night, leaving only a few to guard the Stronghold.
"Damn it." Blood Beard glanced once more at the Stronghold. If they couldn't recover the Crystal Fish, this place would be a disaster.
Blood Beard had endured two of life's darkest times: first, when he was discovered stealing Enhancement Elixirs and hunted by his own tribe; second, when his most trusted friend and lieutenant fled with over four hundred bandits. He suspected that traitor was eyeing his Stronghold now—better to leave a decoy here and occupy his betrayer's attention.
"Let's go." Blood Beard turned and strode forward. The torchlit throng cramped together, a show of force to intimidate any feral beast in the dark. Traveling by night was perilous, but it offered the best chance to overtake the thief.
While resting earlier, Blood Beard had heard Blood Knife's report: the dark chamber had been looted, cloth and plants stripped away, and the Breeding Chamber desecrated. That dispelled any thought of returning—he didn't need to face that heartbreak. He also deduced that with so much loot, the thief's pace would be slow. Perhaps two nights of forced marches, and they'd catch up.
Around midnight, the Tracker hurried back to Blood Beard, face alight. "Boss, at the canyon ahead, the thief's scent is very strong."
"Let's get in there, then." Blood Beard waved coolly.
Forming a long line, the five hundred bandits pressed into the canyon behind him. The Tracker led them to the spot where the scent peaked—a cave mouth.
He motioned to a few trusted men. "You three, go in and check."
They raised their torches and stepped inside. Halfway in, one tested the ground. "Soft earth."
Crack— the sound of a silken thread snapping.
Rumble— the ground gave way, plunging them onto buried wooden spears that impaled them.
"Ah—!" their agonized screams echoed out, triggering panic.
The Tracker froze, then shouted into the cave, "What happened in there?"
"Help me… there's traps…" came the groans.
"Cursed thieves, they set us up." The Tracker scowled, ignoring the cries. When bandits heard only traps, they relaxed.
"Just a trap, phew. I thought it was a feral beast."
"Yeah. Those poor fools—no water or jerky coming their way."
As they joked, hidden above on the canyon walls, white, translucent silken threads snapped one by one, triggered by falling debris. The cave's trap was one of the switches that dislodged the overhead rocks.
Crack… crack… more threads severed.
"What's that sound?" Blood Beard's ears twitched as he gripped his knife.
"Do you hear something?" Blood Knife tilted his head.
"A bit… like something breaking…"
Night Jackal and Crafty Fox exchanged a glance. They looked up at the precarious boulders above and turned pale.
"Get back!" Blood Beard yanked Blood Knife aside and roared, "The rocks above are coming down!"
Crack, crack, crack—the last threads snapped.
Before the bandits could look away, chunks of rock tumbled from both canyon walls.
"Ahhh—!"
"Help me—!"
"Run—!"
Minutes later, the falling ceased.
"Ah… my arm's broken."
"Somebody help me—my leg is pinned."
Groans and pleas rang overhead. More than half of the five hundred were crushed under boulders; the rest lay with shattered limbs.
Smash!
Blood Beard, at nearly two meters tall, rose fiercely from his hiding crevice. His red pupils, bloodshot around the edges, burned with rage. If he hadn't ducked into that narrow gap, he'd be dead or maimed.
"Damn thieves," he hissed, surveying the carnage and listening to his men's desperate cries. He longed to find the thief and carve them apart.
"Boss, are you all right?" The Tracker approached, clutching his mangled arm, face pale.
Blood Beard fixed him with a murderous glare—if not for the Tracker leading them here, they wouldn't have fallen into the trap. The Tracker felt the murderous intent crawl across his skin.
Thinking quickly, he pointed toward the canyon exit. "Boss, the thieves went that way."
"Hmph." Blood Beard suppressed his wrath—he'd need the Tracker. He yanked Blood Knife from his crevice and growled, "You useless fool, round up anyone still alive!"
"Y-yes." Blood Knife trembled, his courage shattered.
"Boss." Crafty Fox and Night Jackal, faces smeared with dust, came forward. As Mutantss, they'd survived by clinging to the walls.
"Where's Dali?" Blood Beard swept the group—one of the lieutenants was missing.
"He's dead," Crafty Fox reported flatly. "A boulder crushed his skull."
"Good." Blood Beard ground his teeth. "Gather all who can still walk. We pursue."
He would avenge this humiliation. Blood Beard vowed the thief would pay.
This book comes from：m.funovel.com。