Born in Blood

Chapter 30: Missing

In an area known as the Shallow Mountain Rivers towards the west of Ucladd, a figure with dark green irises silently dashed from tree to tree, a trail of snow following his lithe steps.

Like the location's name suggested, shallow frozen rivers ran through the ground, intersecting and joining with one another as they went above hills and the rough terrain.

"Amazing... I can almost feel each snowflake fall on my skin and melt on it.'

A smile grew on Liam's face.

His awareness and focus towards his surroundings also changed for the better, in addition to his feeling and perception.

As he continued to flawlessly traverse through the surroundings, voices entered his ears.

A far distance away, past the trees and thick fog, Liam noticed a large caravan, surrounded by men in front and behind it.

'Wow... I can hear and even see them from that distance?' He thought in astonishment, before his expression turned serious.

Burly men in various heights and sizes wore stern expressions, black bandana masks covered their faces, and they seemed to be on guard.

The caravan they surrounded was the size of a school bus — drawn by regular steeds — and Liam already knew what it contained.

'Slaves.'

Human trafficking was no surprise to him in a ruthless world like this.

Liam's intentions were in a gray area.

On one hand, he could free the slaves and quickly finish the mission, and on the other, he needed to know where these bandits were taking them.

He had to let them continue for the moment.

'There must be a black market of some sort where they want to sell the slaves. I'll trail them to see where they go.'

Slowly, Liam inched closer to hear what they were talking about.

Eventually, he could make out what they were saying.

"How many times did I tell you not to touch the merchandise, you little sh*t?!"

A muffled and guttural voice reprimanded, his hand curling into a punch as he sent a scrawny man flying.

The voice came from a large man with broad shoulders, his black eyes exuding wrath.

He shot an understanding look towards someone on his right.

The man nodded and swiftly unsheathed his sword from his hip.

The scrawny man was already half beaten to death, making him unable to run, his eyes filled with fear as he apologized and begged for his life.

The 'Leader' went back into the caravan along with the others, and the scrawny man's begging came to an abrupt stop.

A streak of warm blood flew horizontally in the air before a thud quietly sounded.

Blood flowed from the man's severed head and tainted the snow red, while his body was left to rot and decay.

Liam shook his head, but his eyes were cold and aloof as he saw the scene.

A moment later, the caravan started to move, and he silently followed along.

'Eight cultivators, the rest are small fries. They all have Rank-1 bodies and cores, but no spells or powerful techniques. I'll take most of them out silently.'

Eventually, the caravan stopped ahead of the steep side of a mountain.

The slope had multiple entrances, big enough for two to three people to walk through side by side.

Still, it was quite a distance away, and it wasn't traversable using the carriage due to the rocky terrain; thus, they left it behind.

They pulled out the slaves from the carriages, and Liam got a good look at their condition.

Most were young women wearing thick rags. The rest were either young men or kids.

All of them were tightly chained up together from their ankles and wrists.

From what Liam could see, there were a few old people too, but they had already lost their life inside the carriage due to the cold and lack of care.

The bandits dragged the dead slaves and unlocked their chains, before throwing them in the snow to be eaten by the wolves.

Those alive among them had dead and empty eyes as they walked with their head lowered, bruises and other injuries visible on their figures.

Liam's goal was already achieved.

It was time to put them down.

He waited for an opportunity.

Due to reaching their location, they loosened up their guard and protections.

A few went to the trees and bushes for a toilet break, not noticing a young man with a dagger and sword looming right above them.

Their relief was short-lived.

Liam's Night Blade katana reflected the gentle moonlight, before severing through the slavers like a hot knife through butter.

One after the other, those who took toilet breaks died with their pants down and bowels emptying, streaks of blood painting the snow.

The foul smell emitted from their bodies was masked by the frigid air.

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