A gate of white mana conjured itself out of thin air, radiating energy as it opened. From within, Lucien stepped forward, arriving at his destination.

  He found himself near a small water stream, its gentle flow trickling from the mountainous rock formations above. Around him, colossal trees stretched skyward, their lush canopies swaying with the breeze. The brilliant sun blazed in its glory, illuminating the landscape with its light.

  Lucien took a step forward, his gaze sweeping the expanse before him. Behind him, the Stellar Mountain Range loomed in breathtaking majesty, its jagged peaks piercing the sky like the sword of an ancient sentinel. For a fleeting moment, he simply stood there, mesmerized by its splendor.

  "Even after all this time... the beauty of these mountains remains unyielding. Untamed, yet graceful, each peak carved by time’s own hand, each breeze carrying the breath of something ancient and wild. Fascinating... as always." he murmured.

  For a fleeting moment, he regretted not bringing his canvas.

  Still captivated, he took a few meters backward, unwilling to tear his eyes away from the sight. But then—crunch.

  His foot pressed against something brittle. Burnt wood.

  Lucien's gaze snapped downward. A fire had been here. Recently. His sharp mind pieced the puzzle together immediately.

  "They’ve come this far… Too fast, no one can cross these mountains at such speed unless they receive some help from the tribes."

  Lucien crouched, analyzing the traces left behind. Small squad movements. Carefully spaced intervals. Speed maintained. Supplies sustained. This was not an exploration expedition but a military operation.

  He searched the area, moving across the terrain, appearing and disappearing at a speed of a sound here and there. Again and again, he found the same pattern.

  His eyes narrowed.

  The mercenary force, thousands strong, had taken a calculated approach to crossing the treacherous mountain range.

  Elite squads moved first, cutting through the wilderness, scouting enemy positions, and marking the safest paths.

  Behind them, the first wave of supply carriers followed, ensuring the vanguard remained well-equipped

  Soon after, a second combat squad advanced, securing key positions and reinforcing the front lines.

  Another resource convoy trailed behind, feeding this growing chain of movement.

  Back in the village, the main army waited, conserving strength.

  Only when the path was fully secured, guarded, and supplied would they march through the mountains without leaving room for failure.

  His eyes darkened, a predatory gleam flickering within them.

  "Had I known this sooner... I would have brought my sword."

  Lucien moved fast, weaving through the uneven terrain with ease. The wind howled past him, but he barely bothered by it. He descended the mountain slope in a near-silent rush.

  Then, he saw it.

  A dense grove of giant bamboo stretched before him, their towering stalks swaying slightly in the breeze. The emerald expanse reached high into the sky, casting shifting shadows across the ground. He slowed his pace, stepping into the forest of green

  "There it is."

  Lucien's eyes moved across the clustered bamboo, searching. His gaze settled on one. Not too thick, not too thin. A reasonable size with plenty of branches.

  He gripped the stalk and pulled. The earth resisted for a moment, roots clinging deep, but against his strength, it was useless. The entire bamboo came free, soil breaking apart around it.

  Lucien with quick, deliberate motions, he stripped the branches clean, separating them into pieces, most around eight centimeters, a few at thirteen. One after another, he worked through the pile, the number growing quickly. By the time he was done, he had close to thirteen hundred pieces set aside.

  Only then did he turn his attention back to the main body.

  Lifting the bamboo, he measured roughly two arm’s lengths and snapped it clean. The remaining portion dropped to the ground, forgotten.

  He tested the weight, giving the bamboo a few swings. The air whistled faintly with each movement.

  "That should do the job."

  He looked at the pile of bamboo pieces, then at himself.

  "Carrying these pieces will be trouble. Let’s see… Ah, I know exactly what to do."

  Without hesitation, he removed his regal coat and laid it flat on the ground. The fabric was designed for endurance, woven to withstand extreme conditions—fire, speed, pressure. It wouldn’t tear or break under strain.

  He arranged the bamboo pieces inside, making sure they were evenly distributed. Then, he grabbed the sleeves and tied them together tightly, forming a secure strap. Next, he folded the bottom hem upwards, tying the corners to create a pouch. The structure was solid, but he wasn’t done yet.

  Using a few thin bamboo strips, he threaded them through the fabric, reinforcing the pouch’s shape. Once satisfied, he buttoned up the coat, sealing everything inside while leaving just enough space for easy access.

  Lifting the modified coat, he looped it around his waist and fastened the strap snugly. The pouch rested against his stomach, allowing him to reach in and grab the bamboo pieces whenever he needed. He tested it, pulling one out and sliding it back in with ease.

  He held the bamboo in one hand and took off, covering kilometers in seconds. The terrain blurred beneath him as he followed the traces left behind, searching for his target whereabouts.

  Reaching a massive tree, he leaped, catching onto a sturdy branch before pulling himself up in one swift motion. Higher and higher he climbed with practiced ease. Once at the top, he steadied himself, the wind rustling through the surrounding leaves.

  His eyes sharpened, the world around him coming into perfect clarity. He scanned the landscape, cutting through distance and obstruction, searching.

  After a few minutes of scanning, he found someone.

  A figure moving through the forest, heading along a narrow path. A girl, yellow hair, no older than fifteen. Possibly a tribal looking from her attire at the very least, she was carrying a woven basket on her back. She walked with an unhurried pace.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Lucien observed her carefully.

  "That’s my only lead for now."

  He adjusted his grip on the bamboo and shifted his stance.

  And jumped off the tree and landed smoothly, the impact barely disturbing the ground beneath him. Without wasting a moment, he began his pursuit, moving through the terrain with precision. He followed the path she took, recalling every detail he had observed from above.

  Within two to three minutes, he had closed the distance to around fourteen to eighteen meters. He could go closer, but deliberately chose not to and instead chose to observe and follow her.

  Arika slowed her steps, a strange unease crawling up her spine.

  "That’s weird… for a moment, I thought someone was watching me. A prank? Or maybe a wild animal?"

  The feeling lingered, unsettling but uncertain. She picked up her pace, brushing past thick foliage, moving along a path only she and her fellows knew. The trees stretched high, their canopies carving a narrow tunnel of shadows and light. She was almost home.

  Then, she heard it.

  A child’s voice, weak and trembling.

  "Help… help me… Mommy… Mommy!"

  Crying.

  Arika’s breath hitched. She ran forward, heart pounding. As she broke through the trees, her stomach twisted.

  Ahead, a group of mercenaries stood around cages. Inside, old men, women, children her people. Their bodies were battered, their faces streaked with blood and dirt. They were huddled together, some weeping, some too broken to even move.

  A young boy struggled against the iron bars, his tiny hands gripping the gaps.

  A mercenary grabbed him by the collar and tossed him inside without care. The boy hit the floor hard, his head knocking against the metal.

  "Just shut up already, you damn brat! My ears hurt!"

  The boy screamed in pain, his cries swallowed by the heavy air.

  Arika’s body moved before she could think.

  "What is going on here? Who are you people? What are you doing?!"

  She pushed the mercenary aside, stepping toward the boy, reaching for the cage.

  But the mercenary grabbed her wrist and threw her to the ground. The impact rattled through her bones.

  "Who’s this girl?" he muttered. "No one told us there were more left."

  Another mercenary, leaning on his sword, scoffed.

  "Be careful. This tribe doesn’t use magic the way we do. Remember how those bastards fought? We were lucky that even if their methods are unique, they couldn't stand against trained fighters like us."

  "Yeah, one of them even gave me this scar," another grumbled, rubbing a fresh wound.

  Arika’s fingers dug into the dirt as she turned her head.

  Her village was gone.

  Houses burned, smoke still rising from the ruins. Bodies filled the streets, familiar faces now twisted in agony. People she had known since birth slaughtered. The air stank of blood, sweat, and something far worse.

  And the mercenaries weren’t done.

  Other villages had been raided, their survivors dragged here. Caged like livestock. The young women were being circled by men who laughed, their eyes glinting with sick intent.

  Arika’s hands shook.

  "What are you doing?" she growled, her voice cracking with rage.

  Mana surged through her body, pulsing against her skin. But before she could cast, something struck her ribs. A kick—hard, fast. She hit the ground again, pain flaring through her side.

  A man stepped forward, taller than the rest. His presence alone silenced the others.

  Silent Knife.

  He rolled his shoulders as he stared down at her.

  "Just how many fighters did this village have?" he muttered. "Killing your kind was supposed to be easy."

  A mercenary beside him spoke.

  "She must’ve been outside when we raided. What’s the order, commander?"

  Silent Knife yawned.

  "Capture them, what else we will do. We’ll sell them later. And send word—by tomorrow, this mountain will be wiped clean of their kind. And get the second 3rd squad ready we have to cross the mountain as quickly possible that's the main goal got it everyone "

  "Send that batch in the cage back to town, leader will deal with rest."

  The mercenaries murmured in agreement, some already turning toward the captives.

  Arika’s vision blurred with fury. She pushed herself up, ignoring the pain.

  "Veil of Night!"

  Her form flickered, vanishing. In an instant, she reappeared behind Silent Knife, her blade aimed for his neck.

  But he moved.

  Effortless.

  Her wrist was caught mid-swing. The knife was twisted from her grip.

  Silent Knife inspected it, unimpressed.

  "Poison, huh? Wicked little thing."

  Arika’s eyes burned white, mana coursing through her veins.

  A slap sent her crashing to the ground.

  "What was that magic?" Silent Knife muttered, crouching beside her. "Some sort of invisibility spell?"

  A mercenary hesitated.

  "Something close sir, Veil of night is a spell, it is kind of a quick move technique it cloaks the user and pushes them in a certain direction, Mountain dwellers use it quite a lot."

  Silent Knife’s expression barely shifted.

  "Then. Bind her."

  He stood, already turning away.

  "Guess we were lucky after all. And here I thought we already took anything of value."

  "You really think some third-rate spell from a nobody tribe works on me?"

  Cold metal wrapped around her wrists

  "I’ll be in camp with others. I’ve had enough of tasting tribal food. You all can eat to your heart’s content, but don’t injure anyone, we have to sell them, after all."

  Laughter rippled through the group.

  Three minutes had passed since Silent Knife entered his camp. The movement to transfer the captives had begun. Mercenaries stood scattered, some standing guard, others drinking, some dozing off without concern. They had no reason to suspect anything.

  Arika remained bound, still outside the cage. Her body ached, wounds still fresh, but her eyes burned with anger. Before her stood the mercenary who had thrown her to the ground, his expression filled with mockery.

  "You can still stand? How the hell do you tribal folks take so much and still move? We literally cut off your chief’s arm, and he still fought. Stupid, isn’t it?"

  Arika’s voice was hoarse, but she forced herself to speak.

  The mercenary scoffed.

  "You think I’d answer that?" He grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head back. He leaned in, his breath heavy with alcohol. "You should worry about something else, girl."

  Her expression didn’t change. She bit down hard on his arm. He grunted, yanking away. His face twisted with anger as he reached for his sword.

  He never pulled it out.

  His body hit the ground.

  Not just him.

  Every mercenary in the area collapsed at once.

  No sound. No warning. One second they stood, the next they were gone.

  Swordsmen, fighters, mages, assassins all fell where they stood. Some mid-sentence, others mid-action. The only sound was the dull thud of bodies hitting the ground.

  Death had stormed them.

  Lucien stood twenty meters away, bamboo shards in both hands. Each piece was unsharpened, broken naturally when he had prepared them. It didn’t matter.

  Five in his right hand. Five in his left.

  He threw them all at once at great speed as he was on the move.

  The moment they left his grip, they tore through the air at the speed of sound. He had already calculated everything distance, speed, trajectory, air resistance. The angles were precise.

  Each shard found its target.

  The wood buried itself into skulls, piercing through bone and reaching deep into the brain. The impact alone shattered their consciousness before they even registered pain. Their bodies didn’t twitch. Their expressions didn’t change.

  Another wave followed. Then another. Then another.

  Lucien’s hands never stopped. Ten at a time. Again. Again. Again.

  Mercenaries dropped like nothing.

  They had no time to react. No time to scream. No time to fight back. Their deaths were already decided the moment he had arrived.

  The count rose to six hundred. Less than a minute.

  Their corpses lay motionless, blood pooling beneath them.

  Lucien moved without hesitation.

  He stepped into the camp.

  More targets. More deaths.

  Another ten shards. Another ten lifeless bodies.

  A swordsman tried to raise his blade, his chest caved inward as Lucien struck with his two-arm-length bamboo, breaking his ribs in a single motion.

  A mage lifted his staff, his forehead split open as a shard tore through his skull.

  An assassin moved from the shadows, Lucien didn’t turn. He thrust his bamboo behind him, crushing the man's throat before he could take another step.

  Silent Knife emerged from his tent. His eyes darted across the corpses. His mouth opened to call a spell—

  Lucien’s hand moved.

  A twelve-centimeter shard buried itself in his throat.

  Silent Knife staggered, choking. His hands clawed at his neck, blood spilling over his fingers. His sword barely lifted before Lucien struck again.

  Bamboo met flesh.

  The sheer force tore through his torso, splitting it apart. His upper body hit the ground separate from the rest.

  Lucien didn’t slow.

  One remained.

  A general.

  Lucien had questions.

  He lifted two eight-centimeter shards, measured the angle, threw.

  Both struck the man’s legs, shattering bone. He collapsed forward, unable to run.

  Lucien stood over him while he screamed in agony and pain.

  The general writhed in pain, his legs crushed, blood pooling beneath him. His breath came in ragged gasps, his face twisted in agony.

  "I will ask once. Why you came here, who send you? Spill everything you know." His voice was cold, devoid of kindness.

  Around 5 minute later, Once he was done getting what he wanted, he moved away, killing the final general.

  Lucien stepped out of the camp, calm and unreadable. Behind him, chaos reigned.

  Freed tribesmen tore open cages, dragged the wounded out, armed themselves with scraps and steel. Some screamed, some wept. Others just stood there, shell-shocked.

  He didn’t look back.

  He walked like none of it mattered, like the blood on his hands weighed nothing.

  Then he stopped.

  A sensation struck him, sharp and unmistakable. One he knew too well. It shouldn’t have been there. But it was here.

  In an instant, he understood. Max’s presence filled the mountain like thunder rolling through stone. It was overwhelming, so vast and heavy it pressed down on the world itself. Even those without a shred of sensitivity to power could feel it. Animals fled. The air thickened.

  Lucien’s eyes narrowed.

  Without another word, Lucien vanished, disappeared into thin air, streaking toward the source of that impossible pressure.

  The weather had turned in an instant. Sunlight was gone, replaced by storm clouds roiling like smoke across the sky. Rain poured in torrents.

  Then

  A massive pillar rose from the earth, a column of water so tall and violent it defied logic. Even those who dared only a glimpse in that direction could see it.