I Made a Profit!

A column of Tufang soldiers marched through the depths of the Suihuang Plain. The old general walked beside the Demon Lord's corpse, feeling a mixture of sorrow and relief. In this campaign, the State of Tufang had deployed ten battalions in total. The largest held over eight thousand men, while the smallest had just over five hundred, bringing their total force to more than twenty-three thousand. Five battalions had suffered an ambush out on the open plains. Three battalions had been virtually wiped out at Huangtu Town. The remaining two battalions had stayed behind in reserve to receive them—and now, what they had received was their sovereign's corpse. It was not even a complete corpse; the head was entirely missing. Beside him, a young officer wore a grief-stricken expression, tears streaming freely down his face. The old general frowned. "We are on the march. Save your tears until we return to the royal capital." Wiping his eyes, the young officer replied, "Once we return to the capital, it will be too late to cry. The sovereign is dead. We'll all be buried alive with him!" The old general glanced around and lowered his voice. "Who told you we were going to be buried with him?" The young officer dropped his voice even lower. "Prince Holman will certainly have us buried with him! Before we marched out, he warned us that if we failed to conquer the Suihuang Plain, we would all have to give our lives for the glory of the empire! Now that the sovereign is dead, our crime is doubled. What hope do we have left of surviving?" The old general shook his head. "Prince Holman said the very same thing before. That was back when we fought the State of Shang. We lost that battle, too, yet here we are, still breathing. Don't overthink it, young man. You are fortunate." The young officer's eyes widened. "General, I respect you deeply, but telling me I'm fortunate at a time like this—aren't you just mocking me?" The old general looked down at the sovereign's corpse. "Coming back alive after marching under his command is good fortune in itself. Think about it: before he ascended the throne, how long had it been since we lost to the State of Shang? And after he took the throne, have we won a single decent war?" The young officer sighed. "We actually had a chance to win this time. We just lacked a bit of patience." "Patience?" The old general gave a bitter laugh and shook his head. "You think our sovereign was in a rush to attack Huangtu Town because he lost his patience? He rushed to attack Huangtu Town because nobody would sell us grain! "We received word from Huangtu Town earlier—everyone who was willing to sell us grain had been killed by some exceptionally righteous man. "From the moment our sovereign decided not to bring grain with him into Puluo Province, I knew how this war would end. He wanted to bring more soldiers instead. He needed a victory. But in the end, he got nothing." The young officer was stunned. "We were short on grain? The sovereign never mentioned that!" "Why would he tell you that?" the old general countered. "If you and the men under you knew you might starve, wouldn't dangerous ideas start crossing your minds?" The young officer was still puzzled. "Was attacking Huangtu Town a mistake, then?" "Attacking Huangtu Town was the correct move; we simply were not prepared." The old general looked up at the fluttering snowflakes, regret written across his face. "During the Second Puluo War, our preparations were far more thorough. Even though we failed to claim victory in the end, we at least saw a glimmer of hope. "If only we had prepared more thoroughly this time... If only the passage leading into the Suihuang Plain had been wider... If only the target we chose hadn't been Puluo Province, but the Land of Slumber..." The young officer felt they had stood a better chance this time. "The Grand Secretary of Shang's cabinet said before that we had every certainty of winning this war." "You mean Qiao Yi?" A cold glint flashed in the old general's eyes. "I know him well enough. Among the Shang royal family, he was once a marginal figure. Ten years ago, if the imperial family held an important council, he wouldn't even have been guaranteed a seat. Qiao Yi didn't reach his current position through sincerity!" "He deceived us?" The young officer could hardly believe it. "What good does that do him?" The old general swept his gaze over the barren expanse before them. "Li Qi leading the local powers and sects of Puluo Province into battle out here—that is the benefit Qiao Yi secured. As for who wins or loses here, it doesn't affect Qiao Yi in the least. "In fact, you could say he anticipated the outcome on the Suihuang Plain long ago. Think about it: how many of our cities did Qiao Yi capture? Do you think he was ignorant of our strength? "If Prince Holman had led the troops today, perhaps we would have had a chance. But the sovereign came in person. From the very beginning, I saw little hope." The young officer grew even more worried about his own neck. "General, do you truly believe Prince Holman will spare us?" The old general seemed quite certain of this. "Aside from the sovereign, Prince Holman is the most powerful man in the empire. He didn't reach that position through loyalty to the sovereign, either. "Our sovereign was too young. He placed his trust in Qiao Yi so easily; before that, he even trusted someone like Shan Chengjun. "When we get back, remember one thing above all else: how the sovereign died doesn't matter. It was all his own doing. Who becomes the next sovereign—that is what truly matters." *** Holding the battlefield dispatch, Nian Shangyou felt terrified, unsure of how to broach the subject with Qiao Yi. Yet he could not keep silent. This was a dispatch from the Suihuang Plain, and the Suihuang Plain was what Qiao Yi cared about most. "My lord, word has arrived from the Suihuang Plain. The State of Tufang has been defeated." Upon hearing the news, Qiao Yi merely gave a slight nod, offering no comment. Nian Shangyou wondered if he hadn't made himself clear enough. He waited for Qiao Yi to press him for details. But Qiao Yi asked for none. After waiting a moment, Qiao Yi looked at Nian Shangyou and asked, "Is there any other news?" "There is..." Caught off guard, Nian Shangyou racked his brains, unsure which front Qiao Yi wanted reported. Santoucha. Qiao Yi had to care deeply about Santoucha. And there was good news from Santoucha. "My lord, the Quenching Battalion has taken the Soil Market! Xu Han and his men have fallen back to defend the Mortal Market!" "Good!" Delight showed on Qiao Yi's face as he carefully examined the report. A rumble echoed from outside the cave, and the delight on Qiao Yi's face gradually faded away. "Having lost the Soil Market and the Sea Market, the Underground City is virtually lost. Once the Underground City falls, Santoucha will quickly follow. With things pushed to this brink, the peddler still refuses to split his forces. Does he truly not know how crucial Santoucha is...?" Qiao Yi found himself unable to fathom what the peddler was thinking. As he pondered, Qiao Yi heard Nian Shangyou muttering to himself. "Actually, everyone knew Tufang couldn't win from the start..." Qiao Yi frowned. "What are you mumbling about?" "Nothing, my lord. I was just worried about our current tactical situation." Qiao Yi pointed toward the cave entrance. "If you're so worried, go outside and look. I brought you here to command troops, not to play messenger." "Understood!" Nian Shangyou backed away two steps, turned, and headed toward the mouth of the cave. Indeed, he hadn't been brought here just to deliver messages. On top of being a messenger, he had to serve as a bodyguard, a carriage driver, an orderly, and a handyman... None of those many roles had anything to do with commanding troops. Even now, Nian Shangyou had no idea what their next step was supposed to be. Qiao Yi called out after him, "Shangyou! If you spot any trace of the peddler, inform me immediately!" "Understood!" Nian Shangyou answered. *My lord, when you give these orders, do you ever spare a thought for me?* *If I actually run into the peddler, will I still be able to come back alive?* Stepping out of the cave, Nian Shangyou was greeted by dense fog and a ground littered with corpses. This was Wulao Valley. The place truly lived up to its name—Mist Prison Valley. Once inside, it felt as though one was condemned to life imprisonment amidst the thick fog. Protected by several hundred Totem Army soldiers, Nian Shangyou made his way toward the valley entrance. After covering about three li, two green vines suddenly plummeted from the canopy, sweeping violently across the valley floor. That single sweep cleaved off more than a dozen human heads. Three Totem Army soldiers died instantly, and five were severely wounded. Thanks to his shorter stature, Nian Shangyou was missed by the sweep and scraped through the disaster, but there was no guarantee he would survive the next. The vines that had just whipped away came hurtling back. This time, they didn't aim for the neck, but swept specifically for the ankles. In terms of raw combat power, the Totem Army warriors were broadly comparable, but when it came to agility and footwork, there was considerable variation among them. Before these two vines, that variation spelled the difference between life and death. A Totem Army warrior with three heads might still survive losing one to a sweep. Most warriors, however, only had two feet. The moment one was ruined, their life was as good as forfeit. Nian Shangyou had decent agility. He leaped straight up from where he stood, evading the vines along the ground. Around him, nearly half of the soldiers went down, their feet maimed. The two vines skimmed back along the dirt. The wounded soldiers had no hope of dodging—especially those lying flat, who could only wait to be sliced to ribbons. *Slash!* The vines swept in a circle. The bodies of numerous soldiers were cut in two, severed limbs and internal organs spilling everywhere. Blood splattered across Nian Shangyou's face. He was growing numb to it. These two vines were undoubtedly being manipulated by an expert Grass Cultivator. Where that expert was hiding remained completely unknown. Several soldiers leaped onto the cliff face to escape the vines, only for sharp spikes to thrust out from the rock, impaling them through. That proved an expert Stone Cultivator was on the cliff, yet their location was also undiscovered. A dark cloud drifted overhead. After flashes of lightning and rolls of thunder, a number of soldiers were charred black. Was an Electric Cultivator hiding within the cloud? A downpour descended. Raindrops struck the back of a soldier's hand, punched clean through the palm, and dripped bloody to the ground—proving a Water Cultivator was also at work. Every corner of Wulao Valley teemed with unseen masters, every strike capable of killing a dozen Totem Army soldiers. Such terrifying combat prowess made Nian Shangyou suspect these figures were even stronger than the group under Eighteen Wheels. The intelligence they had received initially claimed the peddler had only a band of veteran iron-boned soldiers who had fought on the Suihuang Plain years ago. Had those iron-boned veterans attained such terrifying cultivation levels here on Qunying Mountain? Had they known earlier, they never would have attacked Qunying Mountain in the first place. Yet what was the use of regretting it now? He wasn't the one calling the shots. Right now, Nian Shangyou could barely keep himself alive. He wanted to find cover from the lethal raindrops, but he didn't dare approach the cliffs. The vines continued weaving underfoot, ready to lop off his legs at any second—or slice him in two from the waist up. Bloodied holes were punched into his body by the rain. Just as Nian Shangyou was sinking into despair, two dull thuds rang out. A soldier used a Blade Cultivator technique to sever the vines. This soldier was peculiar: all three of his heads were Blade Cultivators. It had taken all three using their techniques over a dozen times in concert just to cut through the vines, showing how absurdly tough those green tendrils were. Another soldier rushed to Nian Shangyou's side. His left head was a Grass Cultivator, his center head a Body Cultivator, and his right head a Scholar Cultivator. Combining the Grass and Body paths, heavy lotus leaves sprouted across his body, reinforced with armor as hard as crab shells. He used those lotus leaves to shield Nian Shangyou from the rain. Three other soldiers employed Wind Cultivator methods, pooling their strength to blow the rain clouds apart in the sky. Nian Shangyou wiped the blood from his face. Having survived the ordeal, he didn't even have the luxury to feel relieved. He led the remaining soldiers southward, with no idea what they would run into next. "I really don't know anything. I just believe whatever he tells me," Nian Shangyou began muttering to himself again. "Actually, it's so easy to see. Tricking me isn't hard at all. If he couldn't even fool me, how could he fool the State of Tufang? He tricked the Demon Lord straight to his death..." Under the protection of the Totem Army, Nian Shangyou struggled to reach the southern exit of the valley. Of several hundred soldiers, only about a dozen remained. The scenery here was magnificent. Nian Shangyou beheld towering cliffs whose peaks vanished into the heights, cloaked in mist as beautiful as a celestial realm. "What a beautiful cliff. Look, doesn't it look just like the entrance to Wulao Valley?" Nian Shangyou's mind was fraying at the edges. He shouted to the few surviving soldiers beside him, "Look! Over there, another cave! Doesn't it look identical to the one we just came out of?" The soldiers looked toward the base of the cliff. Indeed, a cave sat there. Nian Shangyou grinned at them. "Care to guess if Lord Qiao is inside?" The soldiers remained silent. Nian Shangyou said conspiratorially, "He's not in there! I've seen several caves like that already. Even though they look identical, they're actually different. Every single cave is different!" Though he sounded deranged, the surrounding soldiers knew he wasn't mad. Nian Shangyou was right. The valley seemed infinite; reaching the exit only brought you back to an entrance. Yet the valley wasn't a loop. The previous valley and this one merely looked alike. In truth, numerous valleys were linked head to tail in a long chain. Because there were so many connected valleys, the Totem Army had been scattered across every corner of them, systematically slaughtered by the masters lurking within. Had Qiao Yi anticipated this? Had he thought through the consequences of entering Wulao Valley? He probably hadn't. Earlier, he had intended to retreat back to Wuyouping the way they came, but he lost that chance—because he had ordered his own troops to block the road back to Wuyouping. He had to block it. Eighteen Wheels and various other stalwarts were already hard on their heels. Along the road between Sage Peak and Qunying Mountain, the two armies were locked in combat, and the Totem Army's casualties had already surpassed ten thousand. Now they were caught in a pincer attack. Had Qiao Yi foreseen this outcome? Perhaps he had. At Scoundrel Ridge, he had openly brought over fifty thousand Totem Army soldiers, with another twenty thousand concealed underground. With such numbers, he had refused to attack Wuyouping, insisting on assaulting Qunying Mountain instead. He surely had his reasons, but after walking this path, Nian Shangyou felt their prospects were grim. How many had died in this valley? Twenty thousand? Thirty thousand? Even now, no one knew how many hidden masters lurked here. Qiao Yi had his reasons, but Nian Shangyou had his own ideas. Two paths lay before Nian Shangyou. The first was to turn back the way he had come and report to Qiao Yi. Returning meant braving every peril they had just survived all over again. And after reporting, Qiao Yi might well force him to scout ahead a second time. The second path was to keep moving forward and scout the situation ahead. The dangers ahead would be no less than those behind, and they might even run directly into the peddler himself. After weighing his options, Nian Shangyou chose a third path: he walked into the cave beneath the cliff and sat down. The surviving soldiers followed him inside. One of them spoke up. Totem Army soldiers rarely spoke, but when they did, it went straight to the heart of the matter: "What if the peddler enters this cave?" Nian Shangyou replied calmly, "If we spot the peddler, we must naturally report to Lord Qiao." The Totem Army soldier thought the logic was sound, but pointed out the practical problem: "If the peddler comes, we won't make it out alive." Nian Shangyou remained utterly calm. "Are we cowards afraid of death?" The Totem Army soldiers shook their heads together. "No." With resolute courage and conviction, Nian Shangyou declared to them, "Since none of us fear death, we will wait right here for the peddler to arrive!" The men nodded in unison, their expressions stern and resolute. Nian Shangyou asked, "Anyone have wine?" A Wine Cultivator produced a wine flask. "Anyone have food?" A Strength Cultivator unslung a sack from his back, filled with braised meat and preserved fish. "Splendid!" Nian Shangyou exclaimed. The men poured the wine, set out the food, and began eating and drinking, waiting heroically and fearlessly for the peddler's arrival. Two valleys away from them, the peddler was locked in a bloody melee against a force of Totem Army soldiers. At first, several hundred men had surrounded one. Then it became several thousand surrounding one. The peddler's tactics were crystal clear: once the enemy reached a certain number, he would break off engagement and immediately relocate. Yet he also had to plunge back into battle without delay; such was the constraint of his life covenant. Wielding Severed Path, he carved an exit through the encirclement. Hugging the canyon walls, he swiftly shifted his position, seeking new targets. After running three or four li, the peddler's arm twitched, and he drew in a sharp breath of pain. A squad of soldiers had severed a green vine up on the cliff. The peddler exhaled slowly. "Thank goodness. At least it wasn't the willow tree next to it." He bound the wound on his arm. Several cuts across his back were seeping blood once more. These wounds could not heal, for they were the scars left on the valley during combat. When the peddler fought, Wulao Valley fought. When Wulao Valley was injured in battle, the peddler suffered injuries in kind. Such was the life covenant. The peddler leaped onto a boulder and gazed into the distance, looking toward the Suihuang Plain. "Well fought, brothers!" The peddler smiled, then touched his neck. A new cut had appeared across his throat. *Better smear on some vanishing cream.* No sooner had he applied the vanishing cream than another cut opened on his cheek. After his cheek came his knee. After his knee, the corner of his brow... Wrapped in bandages from head to toe, the peddler stumbled slightly as he walked. He took a swig of yellow rice wine and used the Sound Cultivator's voice transmission technique: "Old Train, you'd better fight your way in quickly!" Setting down the flask, the peddler pushed his cart forward. He had to keep fighting. *** Li Banfeng returned to Huangtu Town carrying two of the Demon Lord's heads. Together with the head Zhao Xiaowan had personally severed earlier, all three of the Demon Lord's heads were accounted for. Zhao Xiaowan handed the heads to Yao Xin, ordering the Suihuang Iron Cavalry to parade them throughout the city. Li Banfeng bought out every teahouse and tavern in town to reward the iron-boned warriors, as well as the brave men of the Four Great Families and the Two Great Gangs. Not only was there food and drink, but money as well. Li Banfeng produced heaps of silver dollars, distributing pay to everyone. Zhao Xiaowan made a special point to remind him: "Husband, the old iron-boned veterans who fought alongside me back then should receive more silver. It hasn't been easy for them!" Li Banfeng said, "Double their pay, and buy each of them an estate! Let me meet these heroes as well!" Zhao Xiaowan introduced the old iron-boned veterans to Li Banfeng one by one. Tan Jinxiao went without saying; Chen Yongnian was familiar; Old Liu the carriage driver was also an acquaintance; only the older fellow who tended horses was slightly less familiar. During the Second Puluo War, this horse tender had been a battalion commander. Tan Jinxiao, Chen Yongnian, and Old Liu had all been his subordinates. There were several other veteran iron-boned soldiers who hadn't served under this horse-tending commander back then, but he was the only surviving battalion commander from those days. Thus, for this battle, all the old iron-boned veterans had rallied under him. "He's the only one left alive...?" Li Banfeng turned to Zhao Xiaowan. "Precious wife, where are the other battalion commanders?" Zhao Xiaowan was taken aback, thinking she had spoken clearly enough: "They are no longer in this world." Li Banfeng looked at the thirty-odd veteran iron-boned men and asked again, "What about the other veterans?" Tan Jinxiao glanced over his shoulder. "Those who could come should all be here. There are a few older ones without much cultivation, but they probably couldn't even make the journey." "Who else?" Li Banfeng looked back at his wife. "Shouldn't there be some who went to Qunying Mountain? Are they all doing well?" "Went to Qunying Mountain?" His wife looked completely bewildered. She turned to Tan Jinxiao. "From your group, who went to Qunying Mountain?" Tan Jinxiao stared blankly for a long moment. "Who went to Qunying Mountain? I never heard of that!" Chen Yongnian, Old Liu, and the old horse tender had never heard of it either. "Damn it!" Li Banfeng pushed up the brim of his hat, his eyes widening as he stared into the distance. Hadn't the peddler said there were iron-boned fighters at Qunying Mountain? Hadn't he said the iron-boned breed was defending Qunying Mountain with him? If there were no iron-boned fighters, what was on Qunying Mountain? Was he all alone? Li Banfeng whipped around to look at Che Wushang. "Bring the Gluttonous Old Cart and come with me!" Che Wushang didn't know why Li Banfeng was in such a hurry, but he didn't question it. Grabbing the cart shafts, he asked, "Where to?" Where to? To Moxiang Shop or Wuyouping? Both routes led to Qunying Mountain. Li Banfeng didn't know the path from Wuyouping to Qunying Mountain yet. "To Moxiang Shop!" Li Banfeng bolted into a sprint, tearing toward Moxiang Shop at full speed. *** On the streets of Moxiang Shop, several dozen Totem Army soldiers were searching everywhere for Bloodfang Monster. Out of more than seventy thousand Totem Army soldiers, only this handful had gotten lucky. Taking advantage of the peddler's severe injuries, they had found a hidden exit, broken out of Wulao Valley, and dropped directly into Moxiang Shop from the clouds using a Cloud Gate formation. Now they were desperate to link up with Bloodfang Monster, but having checked several rendezvous points, they found no trace of her. Where on earth had Bloodfang Monster gone? One of the soldiers took out a writing brush and wrote the character *Search* several hundred times across the ground. These *Search* characters darted swiftly along the paving stones, scouring the area for signs of Bloodfang Monster. Before long, a dozen or so *Search* characters returned together, circling around the soldier—which meant they had found Bloodfang Monster. The soldier rallied the group and followed the *Search* characters to Yansha Pavilion. Standing before the entrance for a moment, they saw no sign of Bloodfang Monster. Instead, they saw a storyteller setting up a table at the doorway, preparing to begin his tale. The storyteller struck his gavel and launched into an opening verse for the gathered crowd: "The brush's tip strikes down the moon of barbarian skies; The ink pool drowns chieftains beyond the frontier. Confucius and Mencius drill the art of war before the command tent; Qu Yuan and Jia Yi marshal the annals of history behind the lines. A single proclamation slays ten thousand cavalry; Half a stanza of 'Shuli' drives back nine lords. Look out, gentlemen, to the heart of the river: A lone sail spurs the Top Scholar's boat! "Gentlemen, you have come to the right place!" The soldiers did not recognize Shu Wanjuan, but they knew something was terribly wrong. The characters they had dispatched earlier had been turned against them by Shu Wanjuan. They turned to flee, but the eight lines of the opening poem, with seven characters each, formed fifty-six barriers that trapped them where they stood. "Now that you're here, listen to the whole tale before you go!" Shu Wanjuan set down his gavel. The fifty-six written characters transformed into fifty-six iron-armored soldiers, clashing in fierce combat against the dozens of Totem Army troops. One Totem Army soldier avoided being trapped because of his unusual appearance. Totem Army soldiers were typically towering hulks, but this man looked no different from an ordinary civilian, nor did he possess three heads. He wore a teal-blue gown, gold-rimmed spectacles, slicked-back pomaded hair, and a light purple scarf. People dressed like this were exceedingly common in Moxiang Shop, and Shu Wanjuan had indeed overlooked him. He was an Opera Cultivator—a blend of Scholar Cultivator and Martial Cultivator. His Opera Cultivator techniques masked his true physique, and combined with the nimble footwork of a Martial Cultivator, he slipped cleanly away from Yansha Pavilion. Many written characters were hidden in the snow, monitoring movements across the area. Well-versed in Scholar Cultivator methods, the soldier knew he could not wander the streets indefinitely, or he would give himself away. He ducked into an alley, two written characters trailing closely behind him. He turned into a noodle shop. The two characters didn't enter, lingering outside the door instead. A waiter brought over a menu. "Sir, what would you like to eat?" The soldier ordered a bowl of mutton noodles. The waiter beamed. "You certainly have good taste, sir. Mutton noodles are our specialty." Shortly after, the noodles arrived. The soldier devoured them ravenously. Seeing nothing suspicious, the characters outside departed from the shopfront. Several patrons inside the shop were chatting: "Did you hear? Some monster appeared on the street, no one knows where it came from." "Which street are you talking about? Is it that monster dripping blood everywhere from last time?" The soldier said nothing. By the time he finished his bowl, the characters had moved far off. He breathed a sigh of relief and stood up to leave. The shopkeeper stepped forward to intercept him. "Sir, you haven't paid for the noodles." The soldier carried no money. As an Opera Cultivator, he casually tore a scrap of cloth from his clothes, transfigured it into a banknote, stuffed it into the shopkeeper's hand, and said, "Keep the change." The shopkeeper took the money and tossed it into the drawer. Instantly, the drawer began squawking and rattling. A Peeping Cultivator spiritual item rested inside the drawer; it might not distinguish other things, but it never mistook money. The shopkeeper rushed outside and bellowed, "Cheating me with counterfeit money!" The soldier paid him no mind and hurried along. The shopkeeper snatched up a club and gave chase. "Damn your mother! I stopped swindling people and started charging for noodles by the bowl, and you dare swindle me?!" He cracked his club against the soldier. The soldier spun around and kicked the shopkeeper to the ground. The shopkeeper's ribs cracked, but he struggled back to his feet. "I've been to Lushwater City, and I've been to Kudaikan. Now I've come to Moxiang Shop, thinking this was a place for learned folk, doing honest business—and you dare bully me? I'll be damned if I swallow this!" Dragging his club, he charged forward again. The soldier turned, intending to finish the shopkeeper off. Before they could clash, Boss Lu swept the soldier's legs out from under him and pinned him to the ground with a foot. The soldier tried to get up, but Boss Lu applied a fraction more pressure, driving the tip of his shoe right through the man's chest. "This is the way things work in Puluo Province. Seems the Inner Provinces still haven't taught you a thing." Having killed the soldier, Boss Lu was about to check on the noodle shopkeeper's injuries when Li Qi's voice suddenly rang in his ear: "Get up to Qunying Mountain at once! The peddler is the only one on the mountain!" Running along the road, Li Qi had contacted Boss Lu through the Primordial Wonder Screen. Boss Lu looked up toward the sky. Unbeknownst to him, the peddler was looking down from the mountainside at that very moment. He looked down at the noodle shopkeeper and smiled. That kid had never run an honest business. The peddler had disciplined him before, but he never learned his lesson. Who would have thought he wouldn't back down today? The iron-boned veterans on the Suihuang Plain hadn't backed down either. The Underground City had lost the Sea Market and the Soil Market, and the Mortal Market probably couldn't hold much longer. Even if a battle was lost, it could be won back. Xu Han hadn't backed down. Zhang Wanlong hadn't backed down. The brave men of Baishun County never backed down! The Three Heroes Sect hadn't backed down, the Hundred Flowers Sect hadn't backed down, and the stalwarts of the various great families hadn't backed down either. They had boarded the Gluttonous Old Cart and were racing toward him with his junior brother. Those old comrades hadn't backed down either; they were about to fight their way into Wulao Valley. The peddler tore off a strip of gauze and wrapped his wounds, layer upon layer, the blood soaking through just as fast. Biting down on the gauze to knot it tight, the peddler smiled. The Paramount had put up posters; there was a concert tonight. The wontons at the Wu Family Shop in Toudaoling were fresh out of the pot. The Evening Fragrance Newspaper Office had printed its evening edition. Boss Feng in Ligou had opened a new general store. That lad Ye Haolong was out sleepwalking again. Why hadn't the great iron gates of Iron Gate Fort closed yet? That dance hall in Kudaikan had a new act! The sedan chair carriers at Yesong Bridge hadn't packed up for the night. Huangtu Bridge was alight with lanterns once evening came. The City of Fools was beginning to look like it used to. The sound of reading had returned to Moxiang Shop. What a wonderful Puluo Province! He could never look at it enough! The peddler laughed aloud. "I made a profit!" Below the slope, over thirty thousand Totem Army soldiers encircled him. Of the seventy thousand that had entered, only these thirty thousand remained. Holding a battle report, Nian Shangyou rushed frantically to Qiao Yi's side. "My lord! They've breached the lines! Eighteen Wheels has fought his way into Wulao Valley!" Qiao Yi dragged Nian Shangyou under the command banner, using a magical treasure to muffle their voices. "Shangyou, I have just determined the nature of the peddler's technique. What he uses is called the life covenant, an art of the Covenant Cultivators. "When he fights, the valley fights alongside him; when he doesn't fight, the valley doesn't fight either. "He is severely wounded now and surrounded. As long as we surround him without attacking, he won't dare make a reckless move. If he doesn't move, the valley won't move either. Take some men immediately and find the exit from the valley!" Nian Shangyou protested, "But Eighteen Wheels and his men have already broken into the valley!" Qiao Yi seized Nian Shangyou by the collar. "Then you must move fast! I will dispatch troops to intercept Eighteen Wheels. You must find the exit before they do! As long as we get out of Wulao Valley, Puluo Province will be ours!" Nian Shangyou nodded. Just as he was about to lead his men to search for the exit, the thundering rumble of drums echoed from atop the slope. *Clatter-clank, clatter-clank!* Pushing his cart, the peddler came charging down the mountainside!