Weapons? The Little Lady Has A Mirror!

The night was eerily silent as a small caravan of carriages wound its way through the narrow mountain pass. The only sounds breaking the oppressive stillness were the creaking of wooden wheels and the soft grunts of the horses, their breath visible in the cool night air. The Jing Mountains loomed on either side, dark and foreboding, their jagged peaks silhouetted against the starless sky. The lead driver, his hands tightly gripping the reins, couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine not from the cold, but from the unsettling atmosphere. His unease had been growing for hours, and he finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid the mountains themselves were listening. "Master Cha," he began hesitantly, glancing over his shoulder at the luxurious carriage behind him, "are you certain we need to travel through the Jing Mountains at this hour? It feels dangerous... especially at night." Inside the carriage, illuminated by the dim glow of a small lantern, sat a young man dressed in fine silks and robes, his appearance befitting someone of wealth and status. Master Cha was engrossed in a book on martial arts, the faint rustle of pages the only sign that he had heard the driver. After a moment, he looked up, an irritated expression crossing his face. "Of course we do," he replied, his tone dripping with impatience. "We must reach the Frost Kingdom's capital within the month. How do you expect to achieve that if we waste time hiding in some backwater village, cowering like children because of a few rumors about bandits in these mountains?" There was a hint of arrogance in his voice, the kind that comes from a life sheltered by wealth and privilege, where danger was an abstract concept rather than a lived reality. Master Cha's eyes gleamed with a certain determination. "This is the first responsibility my father has ever given me," he continued, his voice hardening. "If I'm ever to stand out among my brothers, I can't afford to hesitate or show fear." The driver swallowed nervously and fell silent, guiding the horses forward without further protest. The road ahead was narrow, with steep cliffs on one side and dense forest on the other. Shadows danced ominously in the dim light of the lanterns, and the mountains seemed to close in around them. Inside the carriage, Master Cha returned to his book, flipping the pages with a practiced indifference to the outside world. But his companion, a man dressed in similarly fine clothes though with a more weathered look about him, seemed less certain. He leaned forward, lowering his voice as if to avoid alarming the young master. "Master Cha," He began cautiously, "I understand your eagerness, but the driver has a point. I overheard some troubling news at the inn we stayed at. They say several merchant caravans have been attacked in these mountains recently. The bandits here are no ordinary thieves." Master Cha looked up from his book with a sigh of exasperation. "Not you too, Liu Bei," he said, shaking his head. "I'm well aware of the rumors, but that's all they are—rumors. Besides, we're not defenseless. I've hired the best martial artists from the Guang Pavilion. Three of them, no less. What do we have to fear from a handful of mountain bandits?" Liu Bei frowned, but he continued, undeterred. "But Master Cha, the cargo we're carrying is worth at least five gold coins, precious goods your father entrusted to you personally. That's why he insisted you oversee this task yourself. We can't afford to be reckless." Master Cha's expression hardened further. He didn't like being questioned, especially not when he was trying so hard to prove himself. "I am being careful, Liu Bei. That's why we have six martial artists with us, three of them trained by a reputable pavilion. I didn't come unprepared. What could a few ragtag bandits possibly do against us? If anything, arriving ahead of schedule will show my father just how capable I am." Liu Bei fell silent, though his face remained tense with concern. Outside, the mountains seemed to press even closer, their rocky faces hidden by the thick darkness. The tension hung in the air like a tangible weight, as if the very night itself was holding its breath. Master Cha, oblivious to the growing unease among his companions, leaned back in his seat, his confidence unwavering. In his mind, the path to success was straightforward. Neither bandits nor superstition could derail his ambition. Suddenly, the carriage lurched to a violent stop, accompanied by the jarring sound of something heavy crashing in front of them. The horses neighed in alarm, and the driver cursed under his breath. Master Cha, startled by the commotion, quickly exited the carriage, followed closely by two of the martial artists he had hired from the Guang Pavilion. His sharp eyes immediately fell upon the obstacle—a massive boulder now blocking the narrow mountain pass. His instincts sharpened, Master Cha's expression grew grim. "This is no accident," he declared with a haughty certainty, his voice cutting through the tense night air. "This is a planned attack." He turned to his bodyguard. "Liu Bei, take three men and guard the cargo. If anyone tries anything, don't hesitate—protect it at all costs." Liu Bei nodded swiftly, recognizing the urgency in his master's tone. He beckoned three of the martial artists to follow him, and together they moved toward the rear carriages, where the valuable cargo was secured. The men spread out, forming a protective perimeter, their eyes scanning the surrounding darkness for any signs of movement. The air was thick with tension, the ominous stillness pressing in on them from all sides. Master Cha, meanwhile, stood beside the lead carriage, glaring into the impenetrable darkness that shrouded the path ahead. His arrogance flared up again. "Mountain bandits? Ha! They'll regret challenging me." He spat the words with disdain, his lips curling into a smirk. "Make sure none of them leave this place alive!" The martial artists tightened their grips on their weapons, their muscles tensing in anticipation of the fight. But the minutes passed, and still, no attack came. The mountains stood silent, their jagged peaks looming above the caravan like watchful sentinels. The wind howled faintly, brushing through the trees, but otherwise, nothing stirred. The eerie quiet only fueled Master Cha's growing irritation. Twenty minutes dragged by, and still there was no sign of the supposed attackers. Master Cha's frustration boiled over, and with a voice dripping in impatience, he shouted into the night, "You cowardly bandits! Do you even want to rob us, or are you too scared to face real warriors?" The echoes of his voice bounced off the cliffs, swallowed by the vast emptiness. Liu Bei, standing guard near the cargo, exchanged uneasy glances with the men around him. He approached Master Cha cautiously. "Master Cha, perhaps the boulder fell naturally. We haven't seen or heard anything unusual. If this were a planned ambush, they would have attacked by now." Master Cha frowned but considered his words. His pride wouldn't let him admit he could be wrong, but the lack of any movement in the shadows was undeniable. "Fine," he relented after a pause, though his voice was still laced with irritation. "Hold your positions for another twenty minutes. If nothing happens, we'll move the boulder ourselves and continue." Another twenty minutes passed in tense silence. The martial artists, their nerves still on edge, remained vigilant, watching the darkness with wary eyes. But once again, no ambush materialized. At last, Master Cha, his patience worn thin, gave the order to clear the path. With grunts of effort, the martial artists approached the boulder. It was a cumbersome obstacle, but the slope worked in their favor. With combined strength, they heaved the boulder, muscles straining under the weight. The boulder shifted, teetered, and finally rolled down the steep mountainside, crashing into the forest below with a deafening thud. The path was now clear, but the men were visibly exhausted from the effort. Master Cha, however, paid little mind to their fatigue. He was already turning to return to his carriage, satisfied that the delay had been dealt with. "Let's move. We've wasted enough time—" Master Cha's voice faltered as an eerie sound reached his ears. At first, it was barely audible, but then it grew steadily louder—a rhythmic, unmistakable noise. The steady beat of boots marching in unison, echoing ominously through the narrow pass. The sound was distant yet distinct, each footstep reverberating off the rocky mountain walls, growing in intensity with every passing second. Unbeknownst to Master Cha, a thick, unnatural fog had silently crept into the mountain pass, enveloping the path ahead. The mist swirled between the trees, dense and foreboding, obscuring everything beyond a few feet in front of them. It clung to the air, making the shadows shift and blur. Through the fog, dim flickers of light appeared—at first just a few, then dozens, and finally hundreds of torches, swaying as a mass of figures marched relentlessly toward them. Liu Bei, beads of sweat forming on his brow, swallowed nervously. His voice trembled as he spoke, "Master Cha… I fear we've severely underestimated the number of bandits hiding in these mountains." Master Cha, his pride wounded and his frustration mounting, barked back, "Shut up, Liu Bei! Listen, men—they may outnumber us, but they're nothing more than untrained, filthy thieves. We are warriors, trained to fight. Remember that!" Despite his bravado, the sight before him sent a chill down his spine. From the depths of the fog, the unmistakable sound of metal clinking echoed ominously, followed by the slow, deliberate dragging of weapons along the rocky ground. Shapes emerged from the mist—hundreds of figures, faceless and looming, their torches casting eerie shadows on the towering cliffs around them. Master Cha gulped, realizing the dire situation they were in. Even if the five of them fought with everything they had, there was no way they could take on such a large force and still have the strength to continue their journey. The figures kept advancing, their numbers seeming to grow with every step. Voices, rough and mocking, drifted through the fog, carried by the wind. "I can see the merchant caravan ahead, Captain. Looks like a good haul tonight!" one bandit called out. Another voice chimed in, dripping with cruelty. "Think they've got any women with them? Could make the night more interesting." "Aye, easy pickings this time, boys!" laughed another, the sound sending a ripple of unease through Master Cha's men. The hired martial artist standing beside Master Cha turned to him, his voice steady but grim. "Master Cha, we've been hired to protect the cargo and your person, but nowhere in our agreement did it mention fighting an entire army of bandits." Before Master Cha could retort, the martial artist quickly added, his tone softening, "However, Mister Liu Bei has been good to us. We owe him a great debt. For that, we will fight beside you until our very last brea—" His words were abruptly cut off as a sharp whistle sliced through the night air. An arrow, fired from an unseen assailant, struck the martial artist squarely in the back. His body jerked forward, eyes wide with shock, as blood poured from the wound. He collapsed to the ground, lifeless, before he could finish his sentence. Master Cha's breath caught in his throat, his body frozen in disbelief. He had barely registered the sudden attack when a group of bandits, previously hidden in the shadows, rushed toward them from behind, their movements swift and deadly. Six of them descended on the remaining martial artists, catching them completely by surprise. In a matter of seconds, it was over. The bandits, seasoned and brutal, made quick work of the martial artists, cutting them down before they even had a chance to draw their weapons. Blood splattered across the ground, staining the dirt a deep crimson. The hired men who had pledged to protect Master Cha were gone—slain in an instant, their bodies lying motionless on the cold ground. Master Cha's mind raced as panic set in. His carefully laid plans, his arrogance, had brought them to this. He had underestimated the enemy, and now his men were paying the price. His heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to regain control, but it was too late. Liu Bei stood beside Master Cha, his face pale yet resolute. The last remaining martial artist, his expression grim, positioned himself in front of them. His grip on his sword was tight, knuckles white with tension, as he braced for what would likely be his final stand. The flickering light of the torches in the distance grew ever closer, their shadows dancing menacingly across the rocky terrain. The rhythmic pounding of marching boots grew deafening, a relentless drumbeat that signaled the imminent clash. Meanwhile, on a nearby hill overlooking the mountain pass, a scene of dark amusement unfolded. An old man with a weathered face, a deep scar etched across his cheek, stood amid a group of men dressed in threadbare martial artist uniforms. Their clothing, once perhaps fine, was now tattered and worn, a stark contrast to the lavish attire of their victims below. The men, seated on rugged rocks, laughed heartily, their voices carrying through the crisp mountain air. One of the men, his laughter bubbling up with glee, turned to his companion. "Brother Yuan," he said, still chuckling, "I can hardly believe we've had yet another easy haul today."Brother Yuan, his scarred face creasing into a broad grin, responded with a note of pride in his voice. "This is our eighth easy haul this month, Brother Gu. Not a single member of our brotherhood has been injured! This scheme of ours is truly ingenious." His laughter echoed through the night, filled with a cruel satisfaction. As Brother Yuan continued to revel in their success, his gaze fell upon a small figure descending the hill from above. The figure was a young girl, no more than thirteen or fourteen years old, dressed in a hanfu that, while somewhat luxurious, was clearly mismatched—its belt and shoes betraying its stolen nature. Despite her youthful appearance, she moved with a grace that belied her age. Seeing her approach, Brother Yuan's eyes sparkled with recognition. He swiftly notched an arrow tipped with a fire-starting concoction and let it fly into the air, the flaming projectile arching brilliantly against the dark sky. "So, Xiao Minho," he called out with a voice that carried amusement, "I assume everything went according to plan this time as well?" The girl, Xiao Minho, responded with a bright smile, her dark black hair falling in waves around her pale face. Her voice, though youthful and soft, as she replied, "Yes, Brother Yuan. Everything was a success. We even managed to capture two hostages this time!" Brother Yuan's laughter boomed even louder, a mixture of admiration and mirth. "Ha ha ha! Xiao Minho, you truly are a clever little brat!" His hearty laughter mingled with the distant clamor of the bandits preparing for their spoils, completing the night's grim symphony of victory.