Yan Mo never knew how to ride a horse, he'd never felt the need to. When they had to go somewhere, either his father would ride the horse or they would get a carriage.
But apparently when you're a guard for a caravan, you can't sit peacefully inside one of the many carriages, no, you have to learn to ride a horse and follow the caravan on the side.
Luckily, they let Yan Mo instead sit on top of the caravan. He said something about how he would have perfect vision in all directions and how he has increased perception so it would be optimal, never revealing the truth about his horse riding abilities.
Fools! They had all fallen for Yan Mo's genius! Sadly, he couldn't also convince them to let him sleep during the daytime, something he understood and didn't try to argue much either, for the sake of looking stupid.
Instead he's spent the last three days on the road meditating on his new sword. He's learn a few things and made a couple theories, but he'd need practical testing to confirm them and sparring other guards was apparently 'a waste of resources'
He shook his head. How did he get roped into this again? Oh right, by Liu Mei's trickster of a brother, Liu Ren. As soon as he barely agreed to take his escorting task, he was given a big backpack of supplies and pushed into a crowd of merchants and other guards, where he quickly learned he was the only one below 50, making conversation hard.
He did also wonder if he was the only real guard on the escort. Not to take older fighters lightly, but they were barely real cultivators, they clearly had gained some Qi and extended their lifespan by a decade and suddenly decide to take it easy. He didn't understand them, why would you want to stay at this pathetic level?
Not that he had properly met or seen anybody above Body Tempering fight, he's seen some people who could definitely compete with them, and their power was incredible. One such person who came to mind was the mysterious swordsman who he spent 9 weeks inside his dreamscape fighting with. Another was Han Bao, who already had physical strength at the peak of Body Tempering only at the 4th Layer, and after he had advanced three layers, he was surely a monster in human form. I haven't seen him in a while, I wonder what he's doing?
A massive hulking body of a man stood disciplined on a wall, looking out at the vast land before him. It was beautiful and made even the statue of a man look nothing more than an ant.
He didn't even mind the freezing cold temperature or the snow slowly piling up around him. He was wearing heavy clothes and used his fire Qi to keep him warm, something he enjoyed.
He used to focus more on river and water based techniques, believing the fluid movements would better his fighting and make his wide attacks less sloppy and leave less openings. Anyhow, how could he have guessed he had an affinity to fire? He was taught an affinity can be gained in two ways, either at birth or by training.
An affinity was, after all, just the temperament of one's Qi, how it preferred to move and be used. Often somebody's affinity could reveal a lot about the person wielding them. One thing it could reveal was talent, most gained some kind of affinity after they broke through to the Foundation Establishment Realm, yet Han Bao had developed it only a few days after his duel with Yan Mo.
As to why he was in Snow Peak Fortress? For training of course. Anybody above rank 300 in the outer sect would go out of the sect boundaries to have more experiences. This was partly because they needed to experience life and death situations; Partly because the lack of any strong opponents made anybody else strong lack opponents to fight, making them leave the sect, creating a loop that would need some willing effort to break.
Han Bao looked down and without a second thought, he plunged from the wall's edge. A massive silhouette against the pale sky. He descended into the colossal drift of snow and ice below, a powerful impact that sent plumes of white powder bellowing outwards. Instantly, the frigid ice and snow around him began to warp and melt. His fire Qi, unleashed with a primal roar, met the biting cold, not to be extinguished, but to rage. A more powerful torrent of smoke and steam erupted from where he was, painting the blue sky with clouds of gray.
Yan Mo's eyes were opened wide as his eyes scanned the sky, a pillar of smoke? No, it was more like steam. He wondered where that could be from. He shook his head, he wondered, but he didn't really care. He was really trying to simply cure his boredom. He had spent the last three days on the road contemplating on his sword, sketching out theories with it on the top of the caravan.
He didn't have time to consider if he should feel guilty before he saw a flicker of movement at the edge of his vision. It wasn't natural movement, like a fleeting bird or the sway of grass. He narrowed his eyes, scanning the forest around him. Another movement, then one more. Bandits.
"Halt the caravan!" Yan Mo's voice cut through the steady drone of the creaky caravan wheels. His hand was already on the hilt of his new sword and he didn't wait to give the bandits the advantage. He leaped from the top of the caravan with surprising agility and landed lightly on the dusty road. The ambush was weak, disorganized, the men used spears, not even a true man's weapon like a sword! They clearly wanted to intimidate them with pure numbers, but it wouldn't work for him!
Yan Mo moved with fluid grace that caught himself off guard. His sword, more like a blur, disarmed the first man he saw with a precise sweep. The second and third lunged by Yan Mo used his new Ghost Step, causing the men to stumble before he cut them in the back. He looked at the rest, a ghastly smile on his face.
The over 60 bandits left could clearly feel the difference in power, if they were to fight, it would be closer to a flame thrower going against a hill of ants. They all dropped their spears, getting on their knees to bow before him. Yan Mo was slightly disappointed, where was their drive? How dare they give up after only 3 of them had fallen? He shook his head but looked at the nearest one, "Where is your captain?" Yan Mo's voice was calm, but the bandit imagined it as if a devil spawned from hell and threatened him.
The bandit stammered and talked through tears and snot. Yan Mo was slightly disgusted but learnt of their Bandit Chief, a man named, "Ironhide" and a hidden camp just a mile or more off the road they were on. Yan Mo dusted off his hands and cleaned the blood on his sword with the elbow of his robe, "You all, tell the caravan master to stop," He instructed the meek bandits, "I have some business to attend to. Oh, and if any of you dare run off, I will find out, and when I find out, I will not stop until your head rests on a pike."
He didn't wait for a reply, immediately dashing off to the direction specified. He felt quite cool, threatening the bandits like that. He smiled and didn't bother sheathing his sword as he ran. The lure of a challenge, and the chance to...no, just the chance to fight, it was too strong to resist for him. He moved swiftly through the rough terrain, adapting his Ghost Step technique to dash gently through the uneven terrain.
It wasn't long before he heard the murmur of voices, the clink of metal. He found himself on the edge of a small, clearly temporary encampment. Two figures, much more imposing than the others, stood near a makeshift fire, barking orders. Those had to be the second and third in command. Yan Mo grinned, he always wondered what fighting two cultivators at once would be like.
The two ruffians exuded an aura of brute strength and cruder cultivation. They seemed like the perfect, if slightly low-stakes, test. He could sense their cultivation at the 6th Layer of Body Tempering, a layer beneath him and they certainly weren't as skilled with a sword as Yan Mo was. They were still tenfold more imposing than the rabble he had incapacitated.
The man on the left was a mountain of a man, reminding Yan Mo more of a bear than a man, though he still wasn't near Han Bao's level. His face was scarred and his forearms felt like tree trunks. His Qi was rough, unrefined, more like the sparks of stones smashing together and less like the fluid movements of Yan Mo's. The other man was leaner, but with a serpent-like feel. He held an incredibly sharp saber, his Qi was sharper, intense, like the ferocity of a badger backed into a corner.
"Well now," The burly one grunted, turning slightly to face the newcomer who had barely tried to hide himself, "Look what the cat dragged in. Lost, little mouse?"
The saber-wielding chief brought it up to Yan Mo's neck, who barely reacted, "Or perhaps this little mouse has a death wish? Came all the way to our doorstep," Yan Mo just offered a lazy smile, one of his hands wielded the sword while the other rested on his hip.
"I'm here for your captain. And I'm not very patient."
The burly bandit let out a booming laugh before he suddenly turned angry, "You'll get no answers from us, you cricket! You'll get a grave!" The man charged, his massive frame covering a surprising amount of ground. His fist, as big as Yan Mo's head, was aimed directly for his chest. Yan Mo didn't bother speaking anymore, it was time to fight!
The moment he felt Qi circulate in the fist of the bandit, he used his Ghost Step. His body shifted in a fraction of a second, making the fist barely miss. The wind rustled Yan Mo's hair.
Before the larger man could even register the miss, Yan Mo was already moving. He didn't aim for a killing blow, not yet. His new sword still needed some familiarizing with. He darted it out in a fast, horizontal sweep. It connected with the bandit's wrist, cutting his left hand off in a second.
The bandit roared in pain and surprise, he quickly grabbed and clenched his now missing fist with the other. Yan Mo shook his head, so much for brute force, and here he thought the man would be able to resist a simple sword slice! His attention was already turning to the saber-wielding bandit, ho was faster than he looked.
The curved blade whistled through the air, aimed clearly for Yan Mo's head. He instinctively brought up his sword in a parry, the steel ringing with a sharp clang. Sparks flew as their blades met. "You're quick," The saber bandit commented, "But speed without control is just a faster way to make mistakes!" He pressed his advantage, his saber a blur, each strike was designed to overwhelm and disoriented.
Yan Mo found himself on the defensive end, but easily recognized the fighting style, it was his own past ways! Yan Mo used his Ghost Step for the n-teenth time, moving past the man but failing to seize advantage before the saber-wielding man reacted. He desperately thrusted at Yan Mo's side. Yan Mo, of course, saw it coming and he could have side stepped it again, but he chose differently.
He met the blade with his own sword, not to block, but to deflect. With a sharp twist of his wrist, he redirected the blade, sending it directly towards the big, burly man who had just managed to react. It caught him in the stomach, not a lethal attack, but he could easily bleed out.
Yan Mo sighed, it was a fight! Just...less exciting than he had imagined. The bandit chieftains regrouped, murmuring something about changing strategies, but Yan Mo didn't care. It was about time to end it anyways.