The Hidden Watchers.

They huddled together on the forested hill. They had crept close to the road where they lay hidden among the greenery, waiting for their target with bated breaths.

The scholar was no longer a scholar, for he had discarded his scholarly blue garbs. He now wore what his brothers wore: a dark robe; a mask that hid his face; and a sword at his side.

He was attuned to every sound in the forest: the leaves rustling in the wind, the chirping of birds, the babbling of the river below. Then he heard it: a steady trot of hooves coming from up the road.

He peered through the branches, catching sight of a young lad riding a chestnut mare. Recognition struck him; he had crossed paths with this youth yesterday morning at the gates of Jiao city. He made a gesture to his brothers: false alarm. 

They watched the youth ride along the road until he reached the river. He dismounted and led the horse to the water. He stroked its mane while it drank its fill. Then he tethered it to a tree; before reaching for his waistband and unfastening a leather flask.