CLXXXIV. Wild West Outlaw

Mu Ran and the train conductor had already entered the tunnel up ahead.

Mid-November.

It was the coldest time of the year, the chill wind biting to the bone.

The nobles on the train had initially thought little of the situation, confidently believing it was a fuel issue. The scenery here was beautiful, with white reeds undulating like floating clouds in the sky, and waiting for a while seemed no bother.

Until they heard the rustling sound of hooves, bizarre howls like those of the Cannibal Tribe snapping their mouths, the savage and cruel bloodthirsty cries.

All the passengers looked out the windows.

Dust clouds kicked up by hoofbeats, more than fifty in number, masked horse bandits were plunging down from the hillside.

There was no plan.

Kill anyone in the way, purely for the sake of intimidation, to seek wealth.