Chapter 117

As the caravan continued forward, it finally reached the edge of the desert by nightfall, where it set up camp to rest for the night.

Compared to the daytime heat, the temperature gradually turned cold at night.

At the desert’s edge, sand on the leeward slope of a dune loosened, then surged upward—a hand bound with yellow cloth emerged from the sand; soon after, a slender man crawled out.

He walked across the sand like a cat, making not a single sound.

Under cover of night, the man crouched low and crept stealthily to the top of the dune, peering through narrowed eyes at the distant camel caravan, scribbling furiously on paper with a pen.

After about half an hour.

The man sneered, put away his paper and pen, and dove headfirst into the sand, disappearing as if he had burrowed underground.

Two figures suddenly appeared beside the empty dune.

Zhou Yiyi tilted his head and said, “He seems to be observing the caravan’s situation.”

Lu Fang frowned. “They’re desert bandits.”

Admittedly, the bandit who had just scouted them had excellent stealth techniques—if not for Zhou Yiyi, even he would have missed him.

Earlier that day, Zhao Ya had said their caravan would be specially spared by desert bandits.

Yet tonight, a bandit had come to scout them.

“There might be a mole inside the caravan.”

Lu Fang murmured, gazing at the distant caravan camp.

Zhou Yiyi nodded. “You should’ve let me capture that bandit earlier—interrogate him, and we might find out what’s going on.”

Lu Fang shook his head. “No need to alarm them. With you here, even if the bandits attack and the caravan can’t handle it, we’re not afraid.”

Meanwhile.

Sha Zhongshu, after gathering intelligence on the caravan, appeared before a rocky hill in the desert, where over sixty bandits, all sporting thick beards and menacing expressions, waited.

“Boss, here’s the breakdown of Zhao Ya’s caravan personnel and their strength distribution.”

Sha Zhongshu handed a sheepskin scroll to a towering, muscular man.

The towering man sat at the center of the group—their leader, known by a single character: “Xiong.” His bandit gang numbered barely seventy men.

Though few in number, each was formidable, mostly at the Seventh Rank; Xiong’s personal guards included several Sixth Ranks and one Fifth Rank.

Xiong himself was a Fifth Rank martial cultivator.

This bandit group had only emerged in the past two years, but Xiong’s fearsome reputation had earned them considerable notoriety in the region.

“Two Fifth Rank Confucians?”

Xiong frowned.

Sha Zhongshu spoke up: “Boss, I don’t understand—our strength makes no need to rob this caravan. Their goods aren’t valuable, hard to sell, and Zhao Ya’s on good terms with all the local bandits.”

“If we ever need to pass through his territory, we can just ask him—he won’t refuse.”

Xiong sneered. “Someone from the Buddha Kingdom paid a high price to ensure Zhao Ya never transports goods to the Buddha Kingdom’s border. We take the silver and do the job.”

“Remember—tomorrow, everyone moves out.”

“Seize the valuable goods, kill all the men, and keep the women—especially the pretty ones.”

At these words, the surrounding bandits erupted into lewd laughter.

…

The next morning.

Taking advantage of the cool morning air, the camel caravan set out again.

Lu Fang leapt from his moving carriage and strode forward to find Zhao Ya. “Today might be dangerous—warn your men to stay alert.”

Zhao Ya paused, hesitating. “Young Master Fang, did you sense something?”

Lu Fang hesitated, then nodded. “Yesterday I saw a bandit scouting us from afar—they likely have designs on the caravan. Just stay cautious; it won’t hurt.”

A warning now might prevent unnecessary losses later.

Zhao Ya smiled. “Young Master Fang, don’t worry—this kind of thing happens often. Trust me, we can handle it.”

“Unless it’s an extreme case, bandits rarely attack large caravans like ours. Sometimes they need water, food, and other supplies.”

“When they do, they trade with us. Though reluctantly, it’s the rule here.”

“Mutual benefit. No interference.”

“It might sound uncomfortable to you, but I say this to put your mind at ease.”

Lu Fang shrugged. “Now that you say that, I’m reassured.”

After Lu Fang turned to leave, a gray-eyed old man from the Western Regions beside Zhao Ya snorted in disdain.

“What an unworldly fool—he’s terrified.”

Zhao Ya smiled. “Bannet, you’re right—he’s too young. But he’s calmer than I was at his age. His demeanor suggests he has some status in the Great Zhou.”

“Actually, he’s not wrong. There’s a bandit gang in this region I’ve never dealt with—rumor says they’re powerful and extremely brutal.”

“If we do encounter them, we should be cautious.”

Bannet shook his head. “Their leader’s called Xiong—he’s ambitious. He probably doesn’t care about our modest cargo.”

Zhao Ya nodded. “I hope so. That way, I can delay dealing with him.”

In the morning, following Zhao Ya’s orders, the caravan members remained highly alert, slowing their progress considerably.

But after lunch,

most relaxed their guard again—after all, even if bandits appeared, the caravan could handle them.

Suddenly, Zhao Ya, leading at the front, halted and shouted: “Emergency alert!”

Everyone stopped, turning to Zhao Ya in alarm.

Bannet frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Zhao Ya’s expression turned grave. He lowered his voice. “Our scout ahead just sent back a danger signal—he may have been taken captive.”

Bannet snorted. “Bandits.”

Caravans never clashed with each other—only rival factions or bandits would trigger such a signal.

And if it were another faction, the signal would include their specific identifier.

Only bandits trigger the danger signal.

Zhao Ya forced a smile, raising his hand. “Don’t panic. Don’t make sudden moves or try to run—that could provoke the bandits into misjudging the situation.”

“We’ll handle negotiations with them.”