Chapter 109

Winter had arrived.

Yunzhou lay in the southern border of Yu Kingdom, not annually blessed with snow; the forest was a sea of withered yellow.

Creak, creak.

The rolling wheels groaned under unbearable strain; the lead pony puffed and huffed with each step.

Finally.

Crash!

A sharp crack.

The wooden wheel snapped clean in half, nearly toppling the cart’s cargo; several strong men reacted instantly, bracing it with their bodies, averting disaster.

“Master Zhang, we won’t be moving today.”

A sharp-eyed man, clearly a steward, hurried up to a middle-aged man dressed in brocade and silk, a jade pendant hanging at his waist.

“Worthless!”

The middle-aged man muttered a curse.

Being scolded like that, the shrewd man’s legs began to tremble.

To outsiders, he was one of the Zhang family’s eight chief stewards; but to the direct lineage, he was nothing but a slave—killable at any moment.

This Zhang is not that Zhang.

It was the Zhang of the “One Alliance, Two Gangs, Three Families.”

Zhang Hao, the second young master of the Zhang family, glanced at the broken wheel and frowned: “Hurry up and send someone to replace it. Don’t delay our journey.”

“But—”

Seeing the steward hesitate, Zhang Hao snapped: “Speak!”

The steward had no choice but to force himself to say: “The spare wooden wheels are all used up. We can only... only send someone to Qinghe City to find a craftsman to repair it.”

This was the Zhang family’s caravan.

Their destination was none other than Qinghe City.

Seven or eight carts, large and small, each loaded to the brim, as if they were moving house—and in truth, they might as well have been.

The Zhang family had learned Qinghe was to establish a guard battalion.

Knowing Qinghe would soon rise in prominence, they wanted to act early, at least to secure several plots of land.

The Zhang patriarch placed great importance on this matter, even dispatching his most capable second son, Zhang Hao.

To go to Qinghe and claim a share.

Wouldn’t they need to grease palms everywhere?

To buy everything new on the spot—do they really think the Zhang family’s money is endless?

Each cart carried items of great value, all meant for bribing connections.

Zhang Hao snorted: “You and Zhang He stay behind. The rest come with me—we won’t miss our appointment with Captain Wei.”

“Yes, yes.”

The steward’s back was soaked in sweat; he nodded frantically.

Why was the second young master of the Zhang family so favored by the patriarch?

Because his heart was black, and his hand was cruel.

A family must have both face and substance.

The eldest son, Zhang Sheng, was the face shown to outsiders; Zhang Hao was the substance—his seventh-rank martial skill and ruthless nature made others fear him without effort.

Watching the caravan creak away into the distance.

The steward finally exhaled in relief.

At that moment.

“I’ll take a walk in the woods. I’ll be back soon.”

A young man spoke up.

“Yes, Third Young Master.”

Zhang He, the third son of Second Young Master Zhang Hao, had come to Qinghe along with his father.

“Follow me.”

Zhang He gestured to the men behind him; seven or eight bodyguard martial artists followed him into the woods beside the road.

No wonder the Zhang family was a great clan.

Even their bodyguards were ranked martial artists; the lead man, with his hooked nose, was even eighth-rank.

Soon, Zhang He and his men vanished completely from the steward’s sight.

The steward muttered under his breath:

“A spoiled brat.”

Zhang He, a scion born with a silver spoon in his mouth, loved doing noble things—like hunting, a pastime favored by the aristocracy.

The imperial princes in the capital held autumn hunts every year; these young masters imitated the royal family and took up hunting too.

They found it thrilling.

And it gave them face.

The steward, who had once been a mountain dweller, thought such behavior was insane. Of course, he could never show such feelings before Zhang He.

Deer Ridge.

Dusk.

In the lonely mountain ravine, dead branches stretched like ghostly hands, the atmosphere eerie.

Elders often said: Never climb the mountain at night.

It wasn’t just superstition.

Even experienced mountain folk could get hurt walking at night; how much worse for ordinary people unfamiliar with the terrain—who knew where the pits or beasts lurked? A twisted ankle was the least of it; fall off a cliff, and you’d either die outright or be injured and left to wait for death.

…

Ever since Li Rui heard Zhang Yang speak of the strange anomalies among the mountain’s demonic beasts, he knew something valuable lay hidden there.

Now, with nightfall and high winds, he acted at once.

=9+ Shu _ Ba

A peculiar, one-foot-square depression in the ground.

Li Rui’s eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of excitement flashing in them.

“So there really is treasure!”

He had finally found the reason behind the demonic beasts’ frenzy—the Nine-Angled Silver Lizard and the others.

Under his Spiritual Eye, he saw the earth before him shimmering with golden light.

Spiritual soil!

Li Rui’s heart pounded wildly.

He had already guessed the sequence of events.

It was recorded that demonic beasts ate soil.

In fact, not just demonic beasts—many animals had the habit of eating earth. The Nine-Angled Silver Lizard likely reached this spot just before death, smashed open this pit, and the spiritual soil was suddenly exposed; after consuming it, it had barely survived.

Like the demonic beasts slain by Wei Ming and Zhang Yang, this spiritual soil had not been neutralized by any medicinal agents—its power was too fierce.

Even demonic beasts couldn’t withstand it.

Thus, the last vestiges of their intelligence were shattered, leaving only their instinct to kill.

Hence their abnormal frenzy.

The value of spiritual soil was undeniable—it could fetch a good price at sects, or enhance one’s physique if used personally; it was an excellent substance.

He had experienced this firsthand.

“So large a patch.”

Previously, he and Wu Tu had spent two thousand taels of silver to buy a fist-sized piece of spiritual soil.

Roughly speaking, this patch was at least five or six times larger!

Ten thousand taels!

Even though Li Rui was no longer poor, the thought of this sum made his heart race.

Such wealth was already top-tier in Qinghe.

The Lin family sold it cheaply; its true value was at least fifty to sixty percent higher, and with a good buyer, it could double.

“A great opportunity!”

Li Rui didn’t dare delay—he quickly pulled a cloth sack from his robe.

He had brought it expecting to find medicinal herbs in the mountains.

Now, for spiritual soil, the sack would do just fine.

As he panted and dug earnestly into the earth,

A rapid footstep sounded behind him.

Suddenly,

A man’s voice drew nearer: “Head He, there’s an old man over there—seems to be digging up soil. Very strange.”

Then another man let out a soft murmur of surprise.

“This soil seems unusual—there’s something to it.”

Finally, a haughty, domineering voice rang out:

Who cares? Since I saw it, it’s my fortune.

Let’s go. Today, even though we didn’t hunt any beasts, finding a treasure makes it worthwhile.

Li Rui turned his head.

He saw a young, classic aristocratic face.

Accompanied by a haughty shout.

Enough, old man, you can leave now.

(End of chapter)