Chapter 91: Explosion!

Elsewhere, in the outskirts of the capital, Anna Sayy rode a majestic black stallion, its coat gleaming under the fading light of the day.

The horse was a magnificent creature, well-muscled and powerful, its hooves thundering against the ground with each stride.

Around her, a formidable team of guards rode in formation.

They were a sight to behold, each clad in armor that reflected the last rays of the setting sun, their weapons at the ready, and their faces stern and resolute.

Anna's team was composed of a dozen elite warriors, each one a seasoned fighter with years of experience.

Their horses, like Anna's, were strong and agile, capable of navigating the rough terrain of the Blackwood Mountain.

The guards' features were marked by determination and discipline, their eyes constantly scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger.

This was not just any mission; it was one of great importance, and failure was not an option.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the landscape, the leader of the Blackwood gang and his captains returned to their stronghold. They rode in a haphazard formation, their expressions dark and brooding.

The leader's face was twisted in an ugly mask of frustration and anger. In the shadows, Ruchir and his group watched with satisfaction, noting the sour expressions on their enemies' faces.

The leader seethed with fury, his thoughts a chaotic swirl of curses and frustration. This journey to the Eastern Pass had been utterly pointless.

Nothing was there—not a person, not a cat, not the chest, nor the expected ambush. It was as if someone was playing a cruel joke on him, toying with his every move.

"Curse that wretched letter! Who dares to mock me like this?!" he thought, his teeth gritting in anger. "If I ever get my hands on the one responsible, I'll make them regret the day they crossed me."

The captains dismounted and dispersed, each as frustrated as their leader. The leader stormed into his main camp, leaving the others behind.

He threw himself onto his chair, made from tiger skin, and began to think furiously. "What am I missing? What could the writer of that letter possibly achieve by luring me to the Eastern Pass unattended?"

His mind raced with questions. "Was it to divert my attention? But from what? What's their endgame?" He slammed his fist on the armrest in frustration. "Damn it, I won't be made a fool of!"

Meanwhile, Jiro also returned to his tent, his mind spinning with thoughts. "If I had the chest, what would I want from the leader? What lengths would I go to ensure my plan succeeded?" He pondered the situation, considering every angle, every possible motive.

Suddenly, it all clicked. "Oh no," he whispered, eyes wide with realization. "Leader..."

Just as the words left his mouth, a deafening explosion shattered the night. BOOM! The ground shook, and the sky lit up with a fiery glow.

Jiro bolted from his tent, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked towards the direction of the explosion, his eyes narrowing as he recognized the source.

"It's the leader's camp," he muttered, a mix of fear and anger coursing through him. "Damn it, I knew it!"

He sprinted towards the camp, his thoughts racing. "We've been outsmarted. Whoever did this planned it perfectly. But how? And why?"

The explosion sends up a cloud of smoke that stretches over a hundred meters into the sky, a dark mark against the twilight. The fate of the leader remains unknown amidst the chaos.

Ruchir and his companions emerge from their hiding place, their eyes fixed on the smoke. Ruchir's expression is grim but determined. "Let's go and visit the corpse of my dear enemy," he says, his voice cold and filled with a mixture of satisfaction and vengeance.

Garret, usually the joker, looks uncharacteristically serious. "This is it, then. Time to see the fruits of our labor."

Alice nods, her face set with resolve. "We need to be cautious. There might still be resistance."

Flippy, perched on Garret's shoulder, chirps nervously, sensing the tension in the air.

As they make their way toward the smoking ruins of the leader's camp, the scene around them is chaotic. Bandits are running in all directions, some trying to douse the flames, others simply fleeing in panic. The once formidable stronghold is now a scene of utter disarray.

Ruchir feels a surge of satisfaction as he surveys the destruction. "This is just the beginning," he mutters to himself. "My revenge is far from over."

Garret glances at him. "Let's make sure we finish what we started."

The group moves closer to the epicenter of the explosion, the heat and smoke making it difficult to see clearly. But their determination drives them forward, step by step.

As they reach the leader's camp, they find the area completely devastated. The leader's grand chair, the symbol of his power, lies in ruins. The surrounding tents are either burning or torn apart. Bodies of unfortunate bandits litter the ground, victims of the blast.

Ruchir steps forward, his eyes scanning the wreckage for any sign of the leader. "He has to be here somewhere," he mutters, his voice filled with a mix of anger and anticipation.

Garret, ever the practical one, starts sifting through the debris. "If he's dead, we'll find his body. If not, we'll make sure he wishes he was."

Alice keeps watch, her eyes sharp for any remaining threats. "We need to be quick. This place won't stay chaotic for long."

Finally, amidst the rubble, they spot a figure. The leader, battered and bloody, lies amidst the wreckage, barely conscious. Ruchir's eyes narrow with hatred as he steps closer, his hand gripping his weapon tightly.

"This is for my father," he says softly, his voice trembling with emotion.

As he raises his weapon to deliver the final blow, the scene fades to black, the sound of crackling flames and distant shouts filling the air.

The scene shifts to a flashback, traveling back in time to when the leader and the majority of the bandits left the stronghold. Garret, disguised as a lowly bandit worker, makes his way towards the leader's camp. His heart races, but he keeps his composure. As he approaches, a guard steps in his path, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"What's your business here?" the guard demands, his tone dripping with arrogance.

Garret, slipping seamlessly into his role, gives a nervous chuckle. "I'm just here to clean, sir. The leader's orders, you know? Gotta keep the place spotless."

The guard grunts, clearly unimpressed but too lazy to press further. "Fine, make it quick," he says, waving Garret through.

Inside the large, imposing tent, Garret lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He quickly scans the area, making sure no one else is around. Then, with a swift motion, he reaches into his pockets and releases three small squirrels onto the ground. The squirrels transform back into their true forms: Ruchir, Alice, and Flippy.

Alice wrinkles her nose immediately. "Ugh, Garret, you smell awful. How can you stand it?"

Garret, never missing a beat, grins. "Smells like victory to me. Besides, it's all part of the disguise."

Flippy, perched on Ruchir's shoulder, chirps in agreement with Alice. "Maybe you should consider bathing more often, Garret. It's not just for show, you know."

Garret retorts, waving them off. "I'll have you know, I have a very unique scent. It's part of my charm."

Ruchir, his eyes turning serious, cuts through the banter. "Focus. We're here for a reason."

The gravity of their situation sinks in, and the group falls silent, understanding the direness of their mission. They quickly get to work, implementing their plan with meticulous precision. Garret retrieves several sacks of gunpowder they had hidden in the stronghold earlier. The group works together to dig a tunnel beneath the camp, a task requiring both strength and stealth.

Ruchir leads the effort, his hands moving efficiently through the soil. "We need to make sure this tunnel is deep enough to avoid detection but close enough to maximize the explosion."

Alice and Garret take turns digging, while Flippy keeps watch, alert for any signs of trouble. The tunnel grows steadily, inch by painstaking inch, as they bury the sacks of gunpowder along the length of it.

Hours pass, and the sun begins its descent, casting long shadows across the stronghold. The group finishes their task just in time, hiding the last of the gunpowder and covering their tracks carefully. Ruchir inspects their work, nodding in satisfaction.

"This will work," he says quietly. "We just need to be ready."

As night falls and the leader and his bandits return from their futile journey to the Eastern Pass, Ruchir, Garret, Alice, and Flippy retreat to a safe distance. They watch as the leader, seething with frustration, dismounts and storms into his camp.

Ruchir's eyes burn with determination. He grips the fuse, his fingers steady despite the tension. "This is for my father," he murmurs, his voice a solemn promise.

With a swift motion, he lights the fuse, and the spark races along the ground, disappearing into the tunnel. Moments later, a deafening explosion rocks the stronghold, a massive plume of smoke and fire erupting from the leader's camp.

The force of the blast is staggering, sending debris flying and shaking the very ground beneath their feet.

Ruchir, Garret, Alice, and Flippy watch as chaos unfolds before them, the leader's stronghold engulfed in flames. The sound of crackling fire and distant shouts fills the air. Their mission, a bold and daring strike against their enemy, is a success.

As they stand together, the flames casting flickering shadows across their faces, Ruchir's expression hardens. "This is just the beginning," he says softly, his voice filled with a mix of resolve and vengeance. 

The scene fades to black, leaving the smoldering ruins of the leader's camp behind.