The road north from town led to Baitou Mountain. Zhao Lin was almost certain the short, sturdy man had been sent by the bandits.
The short, sturdy man was extremely cautious. He would walk for a stretch, then stop suddenly, glancing back deliberately, yet casually, to see if he was being followed.
Zhao Lin wasn't confident in his tracking skills, so he waited for a while. He only started moving after the man was about to disappear from view.
It was noon, and there weren't many people on the road. After they passed a village, the number of travelers dwindled until only Zhao Lin remained.
"Friend, who might you be?"
The short, sturdy man stopped abruptly. His expression turned hostile as he stared at Zhao Lin, his hand dropping to rest on the hilt of the saber at his waist.
"What are you saying? I don't understand."
Zhao Lin's eyes looked blank and his tone was full of confusion, but his movements were lightning-fast. He drew his axe and swung it viciously at the man's head.
