The world spun.
Ling Tian kicked free of the saddle, twisting midair to avoid the flailing horse.
He hit the caravan's roof back-first, the impact driving the breath from his lungs.
Wood splintered as he crashed through into darkness.
"Intruder!"
Blades flashed in the dim light. Ling Tian rolled as a spear thrust where his throat had been.
A blindfolded girl stepped between him and the guards, her hand raised.
"Stop."
Her voice was calm, yet it froze the armed men in place.
She turned her head slightly, as if seeing Ling Tian despite the cloth covering her eyes.
"He's injured."
One guard spat. "He's a thief, Qing'er! Look at his robes!"
Qing'er tilted her head. "You're from the Violet Thunder Sect."
Ling Tian tensed.
Then her voice dropped to a whisper only he could hear:
"But that's not all you are, is it… heir of the dragon?"*
Ling Tian's blood ran cold.
Before he could respond, an arrow thunked into the carriage wall beside his head.
Ghostfang Bandits swarmed the road, their black banners flapping like vulture's wings.
Qing'er sighed, drawing a slender sword.
"Fight now. Talk later."