The Dark Robed Gunslingers

"Ah, there he is," Liu murmured, his tone low and distracted. He was dressed in rags: a scarf, a shirt, and pants, all of which had long since lost their original colors. He looked like a poor demon, or more accurately, a gunslinger thug perched on a boulder along a thin mountain road. His binoculars were trained on the approaching demon hunter.

The Seer and Cao Tang were similarly attired, though the Seer insisted on black—he couldn't bear to wear anything else. Cao Tang had taken a position atop the roof of a bar at the edge of the town they were guarding.

"The intel was solid; his target is this town for sure," Cao Tang yelled to Liu, who was positioned much higher up the street.

It wasn't exactly the Wild West out there, but the reddish sky, dusty and rusty town, and swirling dust made it feel that way. There were no signs of living people until the demon hunter approached closer, and the country music began to play. Now, it truly felt like the Wild West.