Chapter 122: Warrior Alliance

Half an hour later, Cang Luo let out a difficult burp, finishing his meal, though a small portion of food remained on the table.

He simply couldn’t eat any more, and he was deeply curious: how could a hero like Qiao Feng possibly consume three or five catties of beef and several jugs of fine wine at once?

Was this the difference between a hero and a loser?

Cang Luo shook his head in confusion, considering whether to pack up the leftover food.

At that moment, he saw the four men who had been discussing the Warrior Alliance auction earlier finish eating and rise to leave; he abandoned the idea of packing and hurriedly settled his bill to follow them.

Since he didn’t know where the Warrior Alliance was and was too lazy to ask, tracking them remotely via satellite monitoring was the easiest method.

Not long after, Cang Luo saw the four men enter a magnificent pavilion.

Above the main door on the first floor hung a golden plaque inscribed with four large characters: “Warrior Alliance,” beneath which was a crooked line of small text.

As Cang Luo drew closer, he burst out laughing—he hadn’t expected the small text beneath to be English.

WarriorAlliance!

Translated, it meant “Warrior Alliance,” which in the Yuanwu Continent was precisely the Warrior Alliance.

This was the first time since Cang Luo had crossed over to the Yuanwu Continent over two months ago that he had seen any script other than Chinese characters—the English script, called “Yi script” by the Huaxia people, used by only a few non-Huaxia races.

Cang Luo found it strange: how could Yi script appear in Chu State, and so prominently displayed on a sign? Didn’t they fear being attacked? Could proud Huaxia people tolerate Yi script on the streets?

Could it be that some high-ranking member of the Warrior Alliance was a non-Huaxia?

Or was it to accommodate non-Huaxia bounty hunters?

Whatever the reason, it had nothing to do with Cang Luo—he wasn’t here to study racial culture or foreign scripts, but to attend the auction.

Cang Luo pulled out his phone, took a photo of the front of the Warrior Alliance building, and posted it on Weibo, telling netizens he would be attending an auction and secretly live-streaming so the masses could witness it.

The moment the post went up, it received millions of likes, shares, and comments, and once again topped the trending list.

Of course, there were also countless insults.

Netizens had not forgotten Cang Luo’s previous posts flaunting his romance—he was courting girls in another world, making Earth’s netizens look like fools.

Cang Luo ignored the netizens’ jealousy; staring at his hundreds of millions of followers, he wondered whether he should take on an advertisement next time.

Or open an online store selling clothes branded “Yuanwu Continent,” with subcategories like Warrior, Warlord, up to Martial Saint, and run a five-minute ad before every livestream?

Cang Luo thought this idea was feasible, so he decisively sent a WeChat message to his cousin Yang Yongshan, asking him to help prepare it.

After a brief exchange, Cang Luo happily put away his phone and stepped through the grand entrance of the Warrior Alliance, ready to attend the auction.

However, once inside, he found no sign of the auction—only a vast hall filled with people, all warriors, more precisely, bounty hunters.

Cang Luo scanned the hall and was drawn to a massive blue stone wall at its center, upon which lines of text were recorded by some unknown method, like an advertisement board.

As he approached, he saw the wall listed nothing but bounty missions, with the highest rank being Level Nine and the lowest Level One.

Cang Luo understood: this was the Warrior Alliance’s mission hall, and the large blue stone wall was the mission board.

At that moment, dozens of bounty hunters were gazing up at the wall, selecting suitable missions; after choosing one, they proceeded to the windows on either side to claim it.

After about a few minutes, as if a mission had been successfully claimed, a Warrior Alliance staff member emerged to mark the claimed mission on the wall, indicating it had been taken.

Cang Luo watched the mission claiming process for a while and muttered softly: “Too cumbersome, too inefficient. Once the two worlds connect, I’ll get someone to develop a program for the Warrior Alliance.”

Then, bounty hunters could simply open the “Warrior Alliance” app on their phones to claim missions directly.

Integrate it with banks, and after completing a mission, they could receive their reward directly on their phones—how convenient!

Also, add an evaluation system: employers can rate bounty hunters with stars; those with low ratings won’t get any missions.

The Warrior Alliance could even sell advertisements...”

Cang Luo indulged in this fantasy, shook his head with a smile, and decided to leave future matters for the future; he was curious about the missions on the wall and fixed his gaze on them.

The first thing he saw was the topmost Level Nine mission, its text enlarged and bolded!

Mission Name: Capture and Kill Qin’s Eastern Expedition General Cao Quan!

Mission Description: The Qin army has invaded our Chu border... We seek courageous individuals to capture and kill Qin’s Eastern Expedition General Cao Quan... Cao Quan, Cultivation Base: Martial Emperor Third Layer.

Mission Restrictions: No time limit, no rank restriction.

Reward: Chu State hereditary marquis title, one Grade Nine rune weapon, one hundred beautiful women...

Employer: Chu State’s Xiang Imperial Clan!

Cang Luo shook his head; this mission was surely unclaimed—though the reward was tempting, completing it would secure a comfortable life for generations.

But whether one would live long enough to enjoy it was another matter—he’d likely spend the rest of his life hiding from assassins.

He looked at the next one: Level Eight mission—acquire one Feng Demon egg, reward: two thousand supreme-grade Yuan Stones.

Cang Luo calculated: two thousand supreme-grade Yuan Stones equaled two million lower-grade Yuan Stones, which, based on Earth’s gold price, was roughly 28 billion RMB!

28 billion RMB for one beast pet...

Cang Luo sucked in a breath, stunned by the bounty; he guessed the Feng Demon must be a Level Eight beast and dared not look at higher-level missions, fearing discouragement, so he turned directly to the lowest one.

Level One mission: Yangtian Restaurant will buy unlimited quantities of Spear Boars and Steel-armored Cows, prices: one hundred lower-grade Yuan Stones and one hundred fifty lower-grade Yuan Stones respectively...

Cang Luo nodded—this mission was exactly what a warrior of his level should be looking at, and perfectly suited him.

Should he register as a bounty hunter?

He had satellite access—he could simply hunt Spear Boars and Steel-armored Cows; fast money, easy work.

During his ten days with Shangyi Huimeizi, he’d accumulated over seventy second-grade beast cores, totaling less than four hundred lower-grade Yuan Stones; if he focused solely on Spear Boars and Steel-armored Cows, even one per day would suffice.

Cang Luo felt it was necessary, so he walked toward a window and asked: “Hello, I’d like to register as a bounty hunter.”

The staff member behind the window was a woman, quite attractive; Cang Luo guessed she was at least a Warrior in cultivation, though her age seemed old—at least twenty.

The staff member glanced at Cang Luo’s clothes and frowned slightly: “You’re still a disciple of the Profound Heaven Sect?”

“Outer-disciple of the Profound Heaven Sect, Martial General Third Layer.”

Cang Luo answered honestly, even revealing his cultivation level, since it determined a bounty hunter’s initial rank, which in turn dictated what missions one could claim.

Bounty hunters wore chest badges with star patterns: one star meant First-Rank Bounty Hunter, five stars meant Fifth-Rank Bounty Hunter.

Different ranks meant access to different missions and different privileges within the Alliance.

The staff member shook her head: “Sorry, the Warrior Alliance does not accept registration from sect disciples unless they leave their sect.”

Cang Luo froze in surprise: “Why?”

The staff member ignored him, acting as if the establishment was above customers.

Cang Luo grew annoyed but said nothing; he turned back to the stone wall. He’d seen the missions—he could operate independently; he didn’t need to be a bounty hunter.

Yet the staff member seemed to sense his thoughts and smiled lightly: “Most employers have cooperative relationships with us.”

For example, Yangtian Restaurant only accepts bounty hunters from the Warrior Alliance; any other warrior who tries to sell Spear Boars or Steel-armored Cows will be turned away.”

Cang Luo, about to leave, froze again, speechless—he hadn’t expected this, but upon reflection, it made sense; the Warrior Alliance undoubtedly did much to protect its bounty hunters’ interests.

Cang Luo sighed helplessly and temporarily abandoned the idea of registering; after a moment, he asked: “Where is the auction?”

The staff member didn’t even look at him, pointing to a door in the corner of the hall: “Second floor.”

Cang Luo looked toward the door and saw people constantly entering and exiting—he guessed the staircase was there, so he thanked her and walked toward the door.

Inside was not the second-floor staircase, but a corridor.

Cang Luo walked the length of the corridor in confusion, only to find himself back in another hall, with another massive blue stone wall at its center.

But this wall displayed not bounty missions, but auction items.

Cang Luo understood: the auction had its own front hall, but it was connected to the mission hall; the four men he’d followed had simply entered through the mission hall for convenience.

At that moment, the auction hall was also crowded, but vastly different from the mission hall.

The mission hall was filled with bounty hunters—men who sold their lives for money, thick with the stench of sweat and violence.

The auction hall, however, was filled with elegantly dressed aristocrats: wealthy merchants with large bellies and beautiful women on their arms, and refined, handsome warriors holding folding fans.

Cang Luo looked at himself—his beard and hair hadn’t been trimmed in half a month, he carried a large pack, and his outer-disciple robe was dirty; he felt utterly ashamed.

At this moment, he looked like a beggar.

He dared not approach the others to examine the auction items on the wall, fearing rejection; instead, he walked straight to a window.

Cang Luo pulled out the Shadow Tiger’s pelt and asked: “Excuse me, I’d like to auction this—how do I proceed?”

Behind the window was a middle-aged fat man with a mustache, looking like an accountant.

The fat man glanced up at Cang Luo, casually picked up the pelt, studied it briefly, then looked back at Cang Luo—this time, he scrutinized him carefully, puzzled.

This man was an outer-disciple of the Profound Heaven Sect, likely a Martial General or a beginner Martial Master preparing for the year-end competition...

How did he obtain a Shadow Tiger pelt? Shadow Tigers are Level Five beasts!

The fat man frowned slightly, spread the pelt out, and examined it closely—he now understood: this pelt was small, indicating the Shadow Tiger was still immature.

Then the question arose: was this Shadow Tiger someone else’s beast companion? Had this man murdered and stolen it?

Or was he simply lucky, stumbling upon a young Shadow Tiger without its adult guardian?

The fat man shook his head slightly and decided not to ask further; the Warrior Alliance auction never inquired about the origin of auction items—only their value mattered.

He said: “This Shadow Tiger pelt is well-preserved, with good fur color, though it’s somewhat small.”

Seeing Cang Luo didn’t speak, he continued: “We have two options: one, buy it at eighty percent of market value—but since this one is immature, we can only offer seven hundred lower-grade Yuan Stones.”

Don’t think it’s low; without connections, you might not even get this price.”

Cang Luo nodded slightly—he was right; Cang Luo might not sell it elsewhere. He replied calmly: “What’s the second option?”

The fat man smiled: “There’s an auction starting soon—we’ll add your item as a temporary lot. Starting bid: five hundred lower-grade Yuan Stones. Whether it sells or not, we take a ten percent commission.”

Cang Luo frowned slightly—he didn’t understand auctions; he hadn’t expected to pay even if it didn’t sell.

After thinking it over, he decided taking cash outright was safer—he needed money on hand in case he wanted to bid on something.

So Cang Luo immediately sold the pelt, then asked how to participate in the auction; the man said payment was required.

There were several tiers: ten lower-grade Yuan Stones for a back seat with no chair.

Fifty lower-grade Yuan Stones for a front seat with a chair, plus VIP seating, and so on.