The news arrived late in the evening, carried by a lone, exhausted runner from the furthest reaches of his territory. The bandits, emboldened by the lack of imperial response, had escalated their demands. They had stormed the small, isolated village of Stonebrook, seizing its respected elder, Master Li, a wizened, kindly man known for his healing herbs and wise counsel. Their message was crude, delivered with barbaric glee: produce a substantial ransom of spirit stones by dawn, or Master Li would be executed publicly, a gruesome warning to any who might dare defy them.
Zhao Wu, upon hearing the report, slammed his fist into the stone wall of Tang Liu's study, a deep crack spiderwebbing across the ancient masonry. "Ransom? We have no gold, Your Highness! They have stripped us bare! This is a trap, a provocation meant to further humiliate you!" His face was a mask of impotent rage.
Tang Liu remained seated, his fingers tracing the delicate patterns on a porcelain teacup. The air in the study, usually still, felt charged, alive with the desperate pleas of his distant subjects, the insolence of the bandits, and the calculated indifference of the court. The moment of decision had arrived, stark and unavoidable.
The metallic voice of the system echoed in his mind, presenting the three paths once more, each option weighted with its own dark implications.
**\[Survival Options Updated. Immediate Crisis: Elder Hostage Situation.\]**
**\[Option 1: The Good Guy Path - Try to get a loan from sympathetic merchants or minor nobles. Pay the ransom. (Outcome: Temporary relief. More financial dependence. Shows weakness and encourages more banditry. High risk of failure due to lack of funds.)\]**
**\[Option 2: The Sneaky Path - Let the elder die. Use the public outcry to stir resentment against the Regent's inaction. (Outcome: Deepening public despair. Moral compromise. Unpredictable long-term political gains, if any.)\]**
**\[Option 3: The Primordial Path - Infiltrate the bandit camp alone, under the cover of night. Eliminate all threats. Recover the hostage and resources. Leave no survivors. (Outcome: Extreme personal risk. Potential for significant resource gain and establishing a terrifying reputation. Requires direct, brutal action.)\]**
Tang Liu's eyes, usually veiled by a gentle mildness, sharpened to a cold, predatory gleam. The righteous path was a fool's errand, useless. The chaotic path was tempting, a calculated cruelty, but it would sacrifice an innocent life and further deepen the despair of his people. He was not a monster, not yet. But the Primordial Path… that resonated with the burgeoning power within him, the ruthless pragmatism that had become his new nature. Extreme personal risk. Good. He craved the test.
"Zhao Wu," Tang Liu said, his voice quiet, resolute, "prepare my simple traveling clothes. No armor, no insignia. Just plain dark cloth."
Zhao Wu stared, a flicker of comprehension dawning in his eyes. "Your Highness… you cannot. Your meridians… your body…"
"My body," Tang Liu interrupted, a subtle but undeniable authority in his tone, "is stronger than it appears. The Regent denied us his army. Very well. Then I shall be my own army." His choice was made.
He moved under the cloak of deepest night, a shadow among shadows. The two remaining loyal guards and Zhao Wu watched him slip away from the Azure Crane Palace, their faces etched with fear and desperate hope. Tang Liu felt the crisp night air on his face, the faint scent of pine needles and damp earth. His body, now quietly humming with the power of Qi Condensation Layer 5, felt light, almost ethereal. The Void-Shattering Primordial Physique granted him a natural stealth, a near-perfect mimicry of his surroundings, making his movements soundless, his presence almost imperceptible.
The bandit encampment was a crude affair, nestled deep within a thicket of ancient oaks, illuminated by the flickering, smoky glow of a dozen campfires. The air was thick with the stench of unwashed bodies, cheap liquor, and stale cooking fat. Loud, boisterous laughter and crude boasts echoed through the trees. Master Li, the elder, was bound to a stake in the center of the camp, his face bruised, his clothes torn, but still alive. Around him, some thirty crude, heavily armed men guzzled ale and sharpened their blades, oblivious to the silent predator weaving through their midst.
Tang Liu moved like a wraith. He bypassed the perimeter sentries with ease, their senses too dulled by drink and overconfidence to register his passing. He struck first from the shadows, a silent blur of motion. A bandit, slumped against a tree, his sword forgotten in his lap, suddenly slumped further, a dark crimson bloom spreading across his throat. No sound escaped him. Tang Liu moved on, his hands efficient, deadly.
His fighting style was brutal, economic, honed by the ancient mortal combat arts he'd glimpsed in the original prince's memories, now augmented by his incredible physical speed and strength. A twist of a neck, a silent snap of bone, a precisely aimed strike to the temple. He didn't use flashy Qi arts, for to do so would betray his cultivation. He relied purely on his Primordial Physique's raw, unadulterated power. Each strike was fatal, each movement wasted no energy. The bandits, even the stronger ones, fell without a sound, their lives extinguished before they could even register a threat.
He reached Master Li, who was stirring, his eyes fluttering open. Tang Liu placed a finger to his lips, a silent command for quiet. With a quick, precise slice of a hidden dagger, he severed the ropes binding the old man. "Do not speak. Wait here."
The massacre continued. One by one, the thirty bandits, reveling in their ill-gotten gains, met their silent demise. The campfires flickered, casting long, grotesque shadows of falling bodies, but no alarm was raised. Tang Liu was a demon of the night, an unseen avenger. He left behind a scene of carnage, a chilling tableau of sudden, violent death. Not a single survivor.
He found their stash – a crude chest filled with plundered valuables, sacks of grain, and, as predicted, a small fortune in spirit stones, enough to sustain his household for months, and provide much-needed relief to the ravaged villages. He retrieved Master Li, who, though trembling, stared at Tang Liu with wide, disbelieving eyes, seeing not the crippled prince, but a force of terrifying, silent power.
Before departing, Tang Liu retrieved a piece of charcoal from a dying fire and scrawled a single message on the side of a burned-out wagon, visible only to those who dared approach: "The Third Prince protects his own."
**\[Primordial Path Chosen. Execution Successful.\]**
**\[Reward: Shadow Severance Blade (Tier 5 Immortal Artifact) - A dagger capable of cutting through spiritual defenses and leaving wounds that cannot heal without Primordial-level medicine. Activated upon first kill using pure physical means against a spiritual practitioner.\]**
A faint shimmer of black steel appeared in his hand, a blade so dark it seemed to absorb all light, its edge impossibly keen. The Shadow Severance Blade pulsed with a cold, malevolent energy, a perfect reflection of the ruthless act he had just committed. Tang Liu, leaving the silent, bloody camp behind, felt no remorse, only a profound sense of grim satisfaction. He had provided justice. He had secured resources. And he had sent a chilling message to his enemies. The Crippled Prince was not to be trifled with.