The Failure of Human Nature and the Fool Who Mistook Someone's Identity

In the next instant, The Fool turned his head to look at a corner of the tent. Other than the sound of breathing, the tent was dead silent, but it seemed The Fool heard something. Moments later, someone really did appear in that corner. Judging by the figure, it was a woman—or rather, a girl. Her petite, delicate frame was wrapped in stealthy black clothes, making her look both slim and graceful. Like a ninja, her face was masked, hiding her appearance.

"Whew, finally snuck in." The person let out a sigh of relief in a voice so soft no one else could hear. It was the same cloaked figure from earlier in the day. She dodged the candlelight and torch beams, slipping through the shadows, then suddenly reached out from behind and covered the Bottle Woman's mouth.

"Shh, don't make a sound, I'm here to rescue you!"

The Bottle Woman's eyes instantly widened, tears streaming down her face. She nodded through gritted teeth, a spark of hope lighting up in her eyes.

"This is just cruel, locking you up in a bottle like this! Don't worry, I brought tools." She took out something that looked like a nail and whispered, "There are a lot of people outside, so we can't make a scene. We have to do this quietly, got it?"

The Bottle Woman said nothing, just nodded and clenched her teeth, not making a sound.

"Alright, here goes." The black-clad figure pressed the nail against the bottle, pinched it with two fingers, and gave it a twist. With a faint scraping sound, bits of ceramic started to fall away, and the nail drilled right in. In no time, there was a soft 'pop'—the nail had gone through. She pulled it out, leaving a tiny hole about the size of an ear pick in the bottle, its edges perfectly smooth, and the whole process barely made a sound.

"Got it! This chisel for fixing bowls really works wonders!" The black-clad figure was clearly encouraged. "Don't worry, as long as I make ten holes, I can break this bottle without anyone noticing." (Note 1) Then she glanced over at The Fool in the cage and whispered, "You hang in there too, I'll do my best to get you out as well."

Just then, someone interrupted: "What about me?"

The black-clad figure spun around—only to see it was still the Ratskin Man talking. He gripped the bars of his cage, looking over with pleading eyes: "Let me out first, I'm small and quick!"

"Uh... just wait a bit, I promise I'll get you out in the end..."

"Wait? Why should I wait?" The Ratskin Man sneered, his sharp voice sending chills down everyone's spine. "If you don't let me out first, I'll call the guards in here. If the Peculiar Slaves Troupe catches you, who knows what they'll do to you."

"You!" The black-clad figure was stunned—she'd come here to save people, only to be threatened instead.

At that moment, a few of the Peculiar Slaves who weren't sleeping deeply woke up. Seeing the black-clad figure, they immediately whispered, "Quick, save me first! Save me!"

Though they kept their voices down, more people were still woken up. One after another, the Peculiar Slaves started clamoring, just like students whispering in class. Each voice wasn't loud, but together they formed a buzzing hum, spreading through the quiet night. Only three remained silent: The Fool, the Bottle Woman, and a giant who seemed half-asleep.

"Shh! Everyone be quiet—if the guards come, no one will get out!" The black-clad figure struggled to keep order, sternly warning, "If you keep this up, I'll leave right now and never care whether you live or die! So shut! Up! Listen, I'll break this sister's bottle first, then open your cages. If we hurry, there's still time. Got it?" With that, she ignored them and kept drilling holes in the bottle.

But just then, the Ratskin Man suddenly shrieked, "Guards! Someone's stealing Peculiar Slaves! Guards!" His piercing voice carried far, and the whole camp erupted with noise as people woke up.

"What the—how could you!" The black-clad figure was stunned—she couldn't believe she was betrayed by one of the very Peculiar Slaves she was trying to rescue.

"Heh, do you take me for a fool? There's no way you could save everyone by yourself—at most, one or two. And I know I wouldn't be one of them!" The Ratskin Man grinned, his already twisted face contorting even more. "If I can't get out, then no one gets out. If we're dying, we die together! Hahaha!"

Amid his hysterical laughter, the rest of the Peculiar Slaves roared and rattled their cages. No one could really tell what their shouts meant—were they angry at the Ratskin Man, agreeing with him, or just venting madness? Only The Fool kept quietly watching it all, staring at the Ratskin Man.

"Damn it, what kind of mess is this!" The black-clad figure gritted her teeth, glanced at the Bottle Woman, and slapped the ceramic bottle. Since they'd already been exposed, she might as well smash the bottle and fight her way out!

But just then, a sharp whip crack split the air. The black-clad figure felt her wrist tighten—she'd been snagged by a whip! She whipped around to see the deputy leader bursting in. He was the first in the camp to arrive, whip in hand, saving the bottle—and his own skin—at the last second. His heart raced, then anger flared: "You damned little bitch, die!"

But the black-clad figure, though startled, didn't panic. She twisted the whip and actually flung the deputy leader into the air. With a flying kick to his chest, he spat out foam and crashed backwards. She freed herself from the whip and was about to strike again when the deputy leader gave a low laugh: "You fell for it..."

"Raaagh!" A roar erupted nearby—it was Hercules, who suddenly charged out, grabbed the black-clad figure's wrist, and lifted her clean off the ground. She kicked backward, but hitting Hercules's belly was like drumming on a barrel—completely useless.

As she struggled, her mask came off, black hair flying. It was as if a brilliant light flashed—everyone in the tent was stunned.

What a stunning beauty! In all his years, the deputy leader had never seen anyone like her. She was pure springtime, a living painting, and those star-bright eyes made you want to keep her forever. She was still young, but in a few years she'd cause a sensation in the martial world. Even with her hair wild and teeth gritted in struggle, her beauty was almost a psychic attack.

This chapter isn't over yet~.~ Click next page for more excitement!

In this tent, everyone who wasn't The Fool turned into a fool. And as for the original Fool, he just tilted his head and stared, as if lost in thought or memory.

The girl cursed, "You bunch of damned bastards! You animals! Butchers who treat people like dirt! You all deserve to die!"

The deputy leader snapped back to himself after her outburst, then laughed: "People? You call these things people? They're all freaks, disgusting misfits, born slaves. If it weren't for that rat screaming, or the giant working hard, would you have been caught? Trying to save trash like this is your first mistake!"

The girl opened her mouth, but after a long while, she couldn't say a word. This time, her plan had failed—because of human nature.

Voices sounded outside the tent. The deputy leader shouted, "No need to come in, it's handled!" The people outside answered and really didn't enter. The Smoke Pot Peculiar Slaves Troupe ran on strict hierarchy—deputy leaders changed often, but as long as he was in charge, his word was law.

"Heh heh heh, talk about lucky." The deputy leader flicked his whip, binding the girl's legs, and walked over, eyeing her up and down. His breathing grew heavy, eyes lighting up. "Really... what luck..." he muttered again, then reached for her chest. The girl didn't cry out—she just gritted her teeth and struggled, but she couldn't break free from Hercules's iron grip.

"Wait—don't touch her." A woman's voice rang out—it was the Bottle Woman, finally speaking. After all the ups and downs, she looked haggard, but hadn't broken: "Don't touch her, and I'll tell you my secret." The Bottle Woman looked at the deputy leader, her words short and urgent: "Where I came from, who I am, and why I'm in the bottle—I'll tell you everything. Please, just let her go."

Of all the Peculiar Slaves in the tent, only the Bottle Woman spoke up to plead. The others, who'd been making a racket before, now wore complicated expressions—no one could say what they felt. Only the Ratskin Man kept jeering: "Heh heh, now you want to play the good guy? Who are you to bargain?"

"That's right." The deputy leader's face was twisted: "In three days, you'll be sold. Once I get paid, it's all over for me. No matter how valuable your secret is, it means nothing to me."

The deputy leader was grinning from ear to ear—there was nothing like the feeling of being in control. But then he noticed the Bottle Woman's face: not despair, but utter shock. What could possibly surprise a woman on the verge of collapse like that?

The deputy leader turned around—and instantly understood, because his own face mirrored hers.

Standing behind him was a wild-haired, oddly dressed, dirt-smudged figure whose empty eyes couldn't be hidden—it was The Fool! But wait, how was The Fool behind him? Who let him out? No, more importantly, after ten days of not moving, how had The Fool suddenly appeared behind him like a ghost?

"You..." The deputy leader had just started to speak when The Fool suddenly reached out, grabbed him by the neck like a chicken, and flung him out of the tent with a crash. He didn't get up for a long time.

Everyone was stunned—inside and out. Even Hercules, still holding the girl, froze, and then the whole place erupted. Ignoring the chaos, The Fool leaned in close, studying the girl's face. She was scared at first, but then found herself drawn in. The Fool had surprisingly beautiful eyes—at first glance, hollow, but if you looked closer, you saw pure curiosity and a peace you couldn't describe.

The Fool stared into the girl's eyes and suddenly spoke: "Du...mb...cute?"

The girl was stunned—her first thought was that The Fool's voice was actually lovely, and she didn't even catch what he said.

"Raaagh—!" Hercules roared. People rushed in, shouting orders for Hercules to attack The Fool. Hercules flung the girl aside and swung a massive fist at The Fool's head. That punch could've flattened an ox.

But the punch stopped dead—caught by a single hand. The Fool's hand.

The Fool, still glancing at the girl, blocked the punch without even looking. There wasn't a hint of effort, but the punch simply wouldn't land.

"No way..." The girl gaped, watching The Fool's arm give a little shake—and Hercules toppled over like a collapsing pillar. With a casual toss, The Fool sent Hercules's massive body rolling out, bowling over everyone in his path. The crash sent him flying for over a hundred meters, wailing all the way. When he finally stopped, the deputy leader had somehow been swept up too, and was now very much dead.

And through it all, The Fool never stopped staring at the girl, lost in memory or thought.

The girl was completely dazed, only snapping out of it when a crowd rushed in. She turned to see the Bottle Woman being carried away, her eyes full of sorrow. "Fool, hurry—let's go save her!"

But The Fool shook his head and whispered, "No..."

"No? What do you mean, no?" The girl started to protest, but saw The Fool's eyes go blank again, like a lifeless log. He turned, and as he walked back to his cage, everyone backed away nervously. But The Fool just went inside, shut the door, sat down, and resumed his old pose.

He was so calm, it was as if nothing had happened at all.

The Peculiar Slaves Troupe looked at each other, utterly baffled. "Where's that thief?" someone called out. Only then did they realize they'd been so distracted by The Fool, the little thief had slipped away.

Outside the main tent, in a big wagon, someone quietly smoked. After a long pause, they said, "The Fool's price—raise it to two hundred thousand taels."