"O-over... over there," the skinny man’s voice trembled as he pointed toward the center of the stronghold. "The wooden huts near the chieftain’s courtyard... the hostages are usually kept there... As for which one specifically, I... I don’t know for sure. I only know it’s one of the three innermost rooms."

Yang Jing glanced in the direction he was pointing and pressed, "Are you sure it’s one of those three rooms?"

"Y-yes, I’m sure," the skinny man nodded hastily. "Just two days ago, I saw someone delivering water over there..."

Before he could finish, he felt the sharp pain in his neck intensify. A warm liquid gushed out, and his consciousness quickly faded.

With a flick of his wrist, Yang Jing had cleanly slit the man’s throat. He dragged the body into a nearby pile of junk and covered it up.

Yang Jing never showed mercy to these blood-soaked bandits.

After disposing of the body, Yang Jing slipped out again, moving toward the center of the stronghold as the skinny man had indicated.

The closer he got to the center, the more patrolling bandits there were, forcing him to be even more cautious. He practically hugged the corners of the walls as he moved. This was only possible because he had trained his Raging Waves Legs technique to the point of producing hidden force, making him a master of Qinggong. ’Even Master probably couldn’t match my current level of skill,’ Yang Jing reckoned.

Soon, he saw the three wooden huts the skinny man had mentioned.

These three huts were sturdier than the surrounding ones, and two bandits armed with steel sabers stood guard at the door. Clearly, this was where important hostages were held.

Yang Jing circled around to the back of the first hut and peered inside through a crack between the wooden planks.

The inside was dimly lit, and the floor was covered with dry straw. A dozen or so men and women were huddled in a corner, all sallow and gaunt, their eyes numb. They had clearly been imprisoned for some time.

But Liu Maolin was not among them.

Yang Jing’s heart sank slightly. He quietly backed away and prepared to check the second hut.

He silently crept around to the back of the middle hut and peered through a crack in the planks.

The interior was even darker than the first, with only a sliver of light coming through a small window.

The floor was also covered in straw, and a broken clay pot was sitting in the corner.

And there, in the middle of the room, lay a man. His build was tall and straight, and he wore a torn blue-cloth long robe. His body type was strikingly similar to Liu Maolin’s!

Yang Jing’s heart clenched. But on closer inspection, something felt wrong.

The man was lying on his side, his limbs arranged in a very unnatural position, as if he had been forcibly dragged there. There was an eerie stiffness to his posture.

Just as he was focusing his gaze, a rough, hoarse voice suddenly came from behind him. "What are you doing here?"

Yang Jing froze, as if pricked by a needle, and instinctively held his breath.

He whipped his head around to see a bandit with a goatee frowning at him, his eyes full of suspicion. "Never seen you before. Are you one of the new guys?"

The bandit had a curved saber at his waist and looked like a local patrolman who had just happened to stumble upon him acting suspiciously behind the hut.

A flash of killing intent crossed Yang Jing’s mind, but he quickly suppressed it. His face remained impassive as he nodded slightly and said, "Yeah, I’m new. The chieftain sent me to interrogate the person inside."

The goateed bandit was taken aback. He obviously hadn’t received any such orders and was about to ask another question.

But Yang Jing didn’t give him the chance. As soon as he finished speaking, he walked straight toward the hut’s entrance.

Seeing this, the two guards at the door reached out to block him. "Stop! Who said you could just walk in?"

Yang Jing’s steps suddenly quickened. Channeling the hidden force of his Raging Waves Legs, his figure moved as fast as a phantom.

The two bandits had barely extended their hands halfway, not yet even touching his sleeve, when he sidestepped past them, pushed open the wooden door, and slipped inside.

With a BANG, the wooden door shut behind him.

Yang Jing focused his eyes and saw that the person lying on the floor was, indeed, Liu Maolin!

But he was pale as a sheet, with cracked lips and tightly closed eyes. His breathing was so faint it was barely perceptible. He was clearly severely injured.

"Senior Brother Liu!"

Yang Jing called out in a low voice, a surge of rage welling up inside him.

Just then, the wooden door was thrown open. The two bandits who had been guarding the entrance burst in, their faces ashen with fury. "You’ve got some nerve!" one of them roared. "You need the chieftain’s token to interrogate this man! Hand it over—"

Before they could finish, Yang Jing had already turned around, his gaze as cold as ice.

Before the two could react, his body blurred and he threw out both fists at once!

His fists cut through the air with a dull WHIR, moving too fast to be seen.

THUD!

THUD!

The two dull sounds rang out almost simultaneously.

The two bandits didn’t even have time to scream before the fists slammed into their chests, their sternums instantly caving in.

Their bodies flew backward like broken kites, smashing heavily against the wooden wall with a loud THUD. By the time they slid to the floor, their eyes were wide open, and they were only breathing in, not out.

Yang Jing stood with his fists retracted, his gaze sweeping over the two on the floor without a trace of emotion.

He hurried to Liu Maolin’s side and reached out to check his breathing.

’Good, there’s still a faint breath.’

Yang Jing quickly reached into his robes, pulled out a small porcelain vial, and tipped out a soybean-sized pill.

The pill was a lustrous white and gave off a clean, bitter medicinal fragrance. It was a Rejuvenation Pill.

The restorative power of this Elixir was far less than a Qi Storage Pill, but its healing effects were much more pronounced.

Liu Maolin was gravely injured and his meridians were damaged; he absolutely could not be given a potent restorative Elixir. The Rejuvenation Pill was the perfect remedy.

Yang Jing looked at the pill in his palm, his thoughts swirling. This Rejuvenation Pill was the very one his Fourth Senior Brother had pressed on him during the training ground trials. He never imagined he would one day use it on one of his own senior brothers.