The Shattered Lands.
A troop of horsemen slowly made their way through a small valley between two rolling hills.
In the center of the column, a short-bearded man appearing to be in his thirties sat erect in the saddle, sweeping his gaze across the hills flanking them. Faint glints of sword light flickered deep within his eyes.
Beside him, a young rider pulled out a cloth to wipe his face and complained, "Why is this godforsaken place so damp? Eldest Brother, are we really not going to notify the Ningxi branch?"
The short-bearded man replied, "What would we notify them for? Those useless wretches know nothing but drinking, song, and dance. Why, do you want to pay them a visit?"
The young man said lazily, "What fine goods could there possibly be in a place like this? Not interested. Once we win this battle and return inside the pass, what kind of woman couldn't we have?"
"That sounds more like it."
The short-bearded man took out a map, studied it, and instructed a rider, "Inform Vice General Zhang in the rear to bring the auxiliary troops and establish camp a hundred li north of here. Two rivers converge there, making it very easy to spot. That will serve as our base of operations for this campaign. Tell him to build it meticulously."
Receiving his orders, the rider broke away from the column and galloped toward the rear.
By now, the vanguard of the cavalry had emerged from the valley. They suddenly halted, and a scout soon rode back to report to the center: bandits were blocking the road ahead.
Both the short-bearded man and the youth were taken aback. They had hardly expected that on only the second day of their careers as mounted bandits, they would be held up by peers in the same trade. Had life for Western Regions bandits truly grown so desperate?
The two spurred their horses forward to the vanguard. On the open ground ahead stood several hundred bandits, baring their teeth with ferocious scowls, some even sporting severed human heads dangling from their waists.
In the middle of the bandits, a burly, jowly fat man barked, "Listen up over there! We are the greatest bandit troupe in the Western Regions, the Tempest Troupe! If you know what's good for you, hand over your valuables at once, and your granddaddy here might show mercy and spare your lives. Otherwise, I... I'll..."
As more and more riders poured out of the valley, the fat man's voice grew softer and softer.
Not only were the opposing riders far more numerous, but every single one rode a black horse and wore dark green armor. They remained completely silent, exuding murderous aura. Looking back at his own side, they were not only vastly outnumbered, but their formation was ragged and their motley gear showed far too much individuality.
The short-bearded man said to the youth, "Take fifty riders and test what they're made of."
Looking thoroughly bored, the young man casually pointed out fifty riders and charged across.
A moment later, the youth returned hauling the fat man, whom he tossed before the short-bearded man's horse. The fifty riders returned in the same condition they had left, with only two suffering minor wounds. In contrast, several hundred bandits lay dead across the ground, and only a few dozen who had been quick on their feet managed to escape.
The only reason the skirmish had taken any time at all was that the bandits scattered at the first charge, and chasing them down had taken a few moments.
The fat man repeatedly kowtowed and begged for mercy. The short-bearded man asked a few brief questions, then gave the youth a nod.
The youth drew a dagger and rested it against the fat man's neck. "Remember this: my eldest brother is Xu Xinhui, and I am Wang Ziyan. Once you reach the underworld, reincarnate early, and don't forget to seek vengeance against us."
With a light flick of his blade, he slit the fat man's throat.
Wang Ziyan swung back into the saddle and said, "These are the Western Regions bandits famous throughout Ningzhou? They can't take a beating at all! This fellow couldn't even take a single strike from my blade."
"He had an Earth Tier slaughter Dao Foundation and had cultivated to the late stage; he wasn't entirely incompetent. I asked just now—there are seven or eight other bandit gangs like his in the Western Regions, and every single one claims to be the number one bandit gang. Heh."
Wang Ziyan asked, "Eldest Brother, why won't those old fogies above let us take down that domain?"
The short-bearded man shook his head. "That domain won't be easy to take. I hear there are several Palace of Grand Beginning cultivators inside."
Wang Ziyan snorted. "What's so great about the Palace of Grand Beginning? They boast every day about being the foremost immortal sect, but how is our Sword Palace any worse than them? Even if they have greater numbers, you're the Seventh Immortal Sword, Eldest Brother, and I also have an immortal foundation. The two of us taking on a dozen or so of those Palace of Grand Beginning folks wouldn't be a problem at all.
"Even if they're all immortal foundations, our thousand cavalry didn't lose ground when drilling against the Dragon Fish Army—they're solidly on the level of the Nine Armies of Great Tang. The people in that domain are nothing but a rabble. If we hold off the Palace of Grand Beginning cultivators, our brothers can wipe out the domain. Once only those few from the Palace of Grand Beginning are left, what can they possibly do?"
Xu Xinhui said, "We must not be careless. I heard there are several prodigies on the other side."
Wang Ziyan laughed. "Prodigies? Who among us wasn't a prodigy back then? Now that we're out in the world getting things done, what good does being a prodigy do? Battle results are what truly matter!"
The short-bearded man smiled faintly and said nothing more.
—
At the foot of a small hill in the Shattered Lands lay a mine. It was of considerable size, having carved away nearly half the hill, with several bottomless mine shafts and shanties housing miners that covered a sprawling tract of land.
At the entrance to the mine, the banner of the Xu family fluttered in the wind.
Dawn had just broken as a bell tolled. Ragged, half-naked miners had finished their morning meal and filed into the shafts one after another, whipped by overseers at the slightest hesitation. They would labor inside the dark shafts for the entire day, not emerging until sunset.
Armed, armored guards patrolled every corner of the mine. A dozen watchtowers stood perched on high ground, offering an unobstructed view of the perimeter. Each tower housed sharpshooters whose arrows never missed within two hundred zhang. Any miner attempting to flee faced almost certain death.
The mine was bustling at the moment, as a new batch of miners had just arrived.
Yet an unusually large number of people had been delivered today. Frowning, the mine steward repeatedly checked with the convoy commander who had brought them to confirm whether there had been a mistake.
The commander, however, knew nothing beyond his orders. He merely said, "The Eldest Young Master—no, the Family Head—handed over this many people to me, and my orders were to deliver them here to you, nowhere else. Now I've brought them to your doorstep. Whether you have room for them is your business; it's no concern of mine!"
The steward said with a bitter face, "My facility can hold three thousand people at most, yet you dumped five thousand on me at once! How am I supposed to take them in? The previous batch of miners hasn't even finished dying off yet—where am I supposed to house all these newcomers? Besides, with so many people, trouble will brew easily. I only have a hundred guards here; how could they watch over seven or eight thousand men?"
Thinking it over, the commander conceded the point. "Then I'll leave a hundred of my guards with you to help watch them for a while. You go speak with the Family Head right away and have him dispatch more guards."
The steward was overjoyed and just about to express his thanks when alarm horns blared!
The steward and the commander were stunned. At the end of the distant road, several dozen horsemen charged forth like wind and fire. Though their numbers were few, their soaring momentum was like that of a vast army!
The riders arrived at blinding speed, storming before the mine in the blink of an eye.
Every one of them wore a mask and was draped in a cloak, mounted on first-rate warhorses. The leader rode a tricolored steed of gray, white, and red; though its coat was somewhat mixed, it was exceptionally tall and magnificent. However, their cloaks were all somewhat frayed and worn, making them look as if they were down on their luck.
The leading rider reined in his horse, leveled his spear, and roared, "Listen up! Your granddaddies are the Heaven-Battling Gang, the greatest bandits in the Western Regions! We're here today only for wealth, not for lives. If you know what's good for you, lay down your weapons obediently. Otherwise, blades and spears have no eyes, and this Daoist's hand is heavy—if you lose your lives, you'll only have your own bad luck to blame!"
The commander sneered and strode forward, shouting, "Where did you petty thieves crawl out from? Tired of living, are you, daring to target a Xu family mine? Claiming to be the number one bandits in the Western Regions? I'll gladly take your heads back to claim a bounty!"
Having spat his threat, the commander lunged forward. His broadsword had just raised above his head when his vision blurred—and a spear plunged straight through his chest!
"Slow as a crawling tortoise," the rider scoffed contemptuously. He raised his spear, lifting the commander's body high into midair, and called out, "Whoever dares resist will share this man's fate!"
The commander was also a mid-stage Dao Foundation cultivator, yet he had lacked even the slightest ability to fight back, pierced through in a single clean thrust. The guards instantly recognized the terrifying ferocity of these bandits, far beyond what they could resist, and dropped to their knees in unison to beg for their lives.
The Heaven-Battling Gang proved true to their word and took no more lives. The fifty bandits dismounted one after another and set to work together, stripping the guards down like plucked pigs before tying them up and loading them onto wagons.
A few guards sensed something amiss, but the Fifty-First Bandit watched from horseback, the commander on his spear not yet gone cold. Thus no one dared resist, meekly allowing themselves to be stripped bare and piled into wagons.
The Heaven-Battling bandits then called out all the miners, summoning those working down in the shafts as well, and told them to gather their belongings. Loading up all the sorted rare ores, the entire procession set out toward the north in grand fashion.
The miners at the facility were all slaves, with a dozen or more dying every day, which was why replacements were constantly needed. Accustomed to passive submission and knowing that mounted bandits were ruthless butchers who killed without blinking, they remained thoroughly obedient.
Moreover, the bandit leader had promised not to kill them or sacrifice them; they were merely changing work sites. Once they reached the new location, their daily ration would increase by at least one large bowl of rice.
Hearing that they would get an extra bowl of food, all the miners rejoiced, wishing they could sprout wings and fly to their new home.
A procession of several thousand naturally moved slowly, taking seven or eight days to reach their destination. This was the edge of the Qingming domain. None of these people had ever seen what a domain looked like, and gazing at the vibrant, lush landscapes in the distance, they stood dumbfounded like wooden chickens.
Just then, a troop of cultivators rode out from within the domain, fully a hundred strong. Every one of them was smartly dressed and possessed remarkable cultivation.
The lead cultivator urged his mount forward, exuding a transcendent aura, and cupped his hands. "I am Cui Yu, currently Commander of the Yong'an City Guard. Might the newcomers be the Western Regions' foremost righteous army, the Fifty Bandits of Heaven-Battling?"
The leading rider reined in his horse, spear held horizontally, and his voice thundered across the plains: "Indeed! The goods have been brought. Where is the immortal silver?"
"Prepared long ago!" Cui Yu waved a hand, and several riders carried forth three large chests. When they opened them before the crowd, dazzling immortal light shone forth—they were brimful of immortal silver!
"Hahahaha!" The leading rider threw his head back and laughed heartily for a good while, fully demonstrating his immense Dao power, before declaring, "I have long heard that the Qingming domain's promise is worth a thousand gold, trading with the utmost integrity! Seeing it today, your reputation is well deserved!"
Cui Yu smiled. "You are too kind. This transaction has been most pleasant. I hope that next time you gentlemen of Heaven-Battling return, we can conduct business worth five chests."
The rider said in a deep voice, "Seven chests!"
Cui Yu laughed heartily. "Then Cui shall await the good news."
The two were starkly different in demeanor—the rider was domineering and fierce, while Cui Yu was gentle and courteous. Yet both of their voices carried far and wide, showing that their Dao power and cultivation were exceedingly high, with Cui Yu not lagging behind in the slightest.
The rider asked again, "Besides people like these, what other business do you do?"
Cui Yu replied, "Minerals, immortal materials, grain, medicines—we accept all of them. But our primary need is still people."
Wasting no words, the rider voiced his agreement and galloped away like the wind with the fifty bandits.
A procession of several thousand marching all this way had naturally attracted countless scouts from various factions. In the shadows, who knew how many eyes were watching this exchange? They took every word spoken by the two into their ears, then vanished quietly into the dark.
Chapter 172