The Blade-Wielding Legend

However, after the battle, the squad leader immediately sheathed his sword and retreated, taking out an oil paper package from his bosom.

Upon opening it, there were several rice balls inside, dark red in color, emitting a scent mingled with blood and herbs.

He grabbed one and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing with large bites, his Adam’s apple rolling as he swallowed.

The foot soldiers around him also took out the same rice balls, devouring them ravenously.

After eating the rice balls, the bloodshot in their eyes became more intense, their breathing heavy, but their arms, which had been slightly trembling from the fierce battle, steadied.

"What are these things..."

The people on the hillside looked at each other in bewilderment.

In the center of the camp, the leading Red Armor General, wearing an Evil Ghost Mask, was sheathing his sword.

At his feet lay the remains of four Ghost Soldiers, all torn into pieces, with black blood spreading on the ground.

The general took off his mask, revealing a square face over forty years old, with prominent cheekbones and a grim scar at the corner of his eye.

He also took out a dark red rice ball and swallowed it in a few bites, letting out a satisfied growl from his throat.

Not far away, an elderly Onmyoji in white hurried over.

The Onmyoji first bowed to the general, then swept his gaze over the battlefield, his face gradually turning pale.

He quickly walked into the depths of the black cloth tent.

The large iron coffin was still there, but its lid was askew to the side, and it was empty inside...

"Where is the person?!" The Onmyoji’s voice trembled.

Soon, the military camp became noisy again.

The Japanese soldiers quickly divided into more than ten small squads, each led by a samurai, spreading out in all directions.

Several shadowy figures dressed as ninjas slipped out of the camp, merging into the dark forest like specters.

In the forest, Li Yan and the others exchanged a glance.

"Retreat," Li Yan whispered.

At this point, they surely couldn’t find out anything; there were many Japanese elites on the island, and they had to leave immediately.

The group retreated quietly, using the darkness as cover, stealthily heading along the ridge toward the direction of the Ranger Camp.

Along the way, they encountered two search squads but avoided them in advance.

Lv San had Li Dong occasionally take flight and circle, its sharp eyes under the moonlight taking in every move of the Japanese soldiers below.

The Ranger Camp was located in a sheltered bay on the southern part of the island, with dozens of tattered tents next to a few wooden huts, bonfires scattered here and there.

The camp was mostly made up of unemployed samurai who had lost their masters, fugitive criminals, and bankrupt merchants, a motley crew of sorts.

Kong Shangzhao, disguised earlier as a Sakai Port herbal merchant, had used silver coins to grease palms, making connections with a few small leaders.

He whispered, "I scouted during the day; there are a few old merchant ships docked in the bay, which the shipowners take on private jobs for enough money, ready to set sail at any time."

"Is it reliable?" Sha Lifei asked.

"In chaotic times, is anything really reliable?"

Kong Shangzhao shook his head, "But for heavy rewards, there are always brave men. Previously, I contacted a merchant named Ping Zhu, who specializes in smuggling. He has dealt with Great Xuan Sea Merchants at Hakata Port and knows some official language, holding much resentment towards Toyotomi Hideyoshi."

No time to lose, Kong Shangzhao immediately changed into his previous Japanese merchant clothing and went to the east side of the camp with Li Yan and Sha Lifei.

Inside, it was noisy and chaotic, with the smell of alcohol in the air, and seven or eight ronin were gambling around.

In the corner sat a thin middle-aged man in a semi-old silk robe, drinking cold wine with pickled vegetables. He was Ping Zhu.

Kong Shangzhao squeezed over, and a small gold ingot slid silently from his sleeve onto Ping Zhu’s knee.

Ping Zhu’s eyelid twitched, subtly pocketing the gold, and said in a low voice, "You again, what do you want?"

"Set sail tonight, to Kyushu Hakata."

Kong Shangzhao spoke in clumsy Japanese, "The price is doubled, but make it quick, we leave now."

Ping Zhu squinted at him, "Tonight? There are the Toyotomi family’s patrol ships outside the bay. If caught at this hour, it’s a beheading."

"Triple."

Kong Shangzhao pushed out another gold ingot.

Ping Zhu’s breathing quickened; after a moment’s hesitation, he gritted his teeth, "Deal! But my ship is small and can’t carry too much cargo."

"Just six people," Kong Shangzhao paused, "and a coffin."

"A coffin?" Ping Zhu was taken aback.

"An elder of the family died in a foreign land, and we need to transport the remains home for burial."

Kong Shangzhao remained expressionless, "The coffin isn’t large; it’s already wrapped in oilcloth."

The transaction concluded, the group quietly moved toward the east of the bay with the thin coffin containing the Night Crying Man.

Ping Zhu’s ship was an old customs ship about ten feet long.

The hull was worn, the sails and masts old, but it had a deep draft, evidently accustomed to running the seas.

It was past the hour of the tiger, and the patrol fire dragons of the island’s military were drawing nearer.

"Get on board quickly, and don’t make a sound," Ping Zhu whispered, setting up the gangplank to help.

The group swiftly boarded the ship.

The coffin was carefully placed amid the clutter in the hold.

Ping Zhu and two crew members raised the anchor and set the sails, and the customs ship slowly steered out of the small bay.

The moon dimmed and stars thinned as fog began to rise over the sea.

With Li Dong’s assistance, the customs ship continuously evaded the patrol ships, slowly heading out to sea.

After entering the outer seas of the Tsushima Strait, the waves grew larger, and the ship began to sway.

Li Yan stood at the stern, gazing at the receding silhouette of Tsushima Island, his brows tightly knit.

Originally, Japan was nothing much; otherwise, the Great Xuan Dynasty wouldn’t have easily commanded Toyotomi Hideyoshi to kneel for a meeting.

But with the Jianmu Organization’s help, who knows how many hidden cards they have.

At this moment, Li Yan’s expression suddenly changed.

The hook paper in his chest began to heat up for no apparent reason.

He suddenly turned, his hand on the hilt of his sword, slowly turning to look in the direction of the cabin.

"Come out!"

Li Yan’s voice was low, filled with murderous intent.

Sha Lifei, Wu Ba, and the others simultaneously tensed, each gripping their weapons.

Lv San’s Li Dong flared its feathers on his shoulders, letting out a low hiss.

The oilcloth curtain was lifted by a small hand.

A figure timidly crawled out.

Barefoot, with ragged clothes, tangled, yellow hair, and a face smudged with soot, the features indistinguishable.

It was a little girl about seven or eight years old, who, after crawling out of the hold, shrank into a corner, trembling all over, not daring to raise her head...

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