Beiji trudged along the uneven roadbed, alternating between deep and shallow steps, pistol in hand. He was cursing Tang Mo, cursing everything he had encountered that day.
The rugged road didn't allow for horseback riding, which made Beiji extremely uncomfortable. Accustomed to a life of luxury, he naturally loathed the idea of traveling such a long distance on foot. Hence, he hated Tang Mo, hated the damned patrol team that had found his horse.
"If I get back, you'll all have to die! Die! Die!" he muttered viciously, clutching his pistol.
He felt that his tactics had been flawless, splitting up from his trusted attendant, which, no matter what, would win him more chances to escape.
If that attendant were exposed, the enemy would shift more attention to the north, giving him a better chance of getting away.
