Want to play Princess Guardian?
Absolutely ridiculous! Princess Guardian is a Heavenly King-level master—no matter how times change, she’s not someone riff-raff like you could ever touch. Me, on the other hand... Zach Four snickered to himself, lost in wild fantasies.
What outrageous nonsense! Yet I can't even beat this loudmouth kid—what kind of era is this! ...Phantom Shadow Tower secretly sneered, tears streaming down inside.
"You two are silent—do you think I'm talking nonsense or being outrageous?" Rainblade King gripped his sword, eyes fierce and face twisted: true energy surged around him. "Maybe today I’ll show you if my sword can kill!"
Draws his sword at the drop of a hat—no, actually, we haven’t even said a word and he’s already about to draw! This kid’s a total psycho! And yet I still can’t beat him... Master Shade’s feelings were too complicated for words, but he kept a poker face and just glanced at Zach Four.
You brought this kid, you deal with him.
"No need to get worked up, my friend! Your sword could make the Innate Ranking—of course it can kill. Let me wish you great success in your trials, and may you win the beauty in the capital!" Zach Four laughed, quickly smoothing things over. "As for princesses, I couldn’t get Princess Guardian, but I did bring you Princess Sahara from the South Wasteland for good luck."
"Princess Sahara?" Zach Four hit his sweet spot—Rainblade King instantly calmed down.
"Princess is a stretch," Zach Four stroked his beard. "A while back, my crew raided a tribe. Nothing special about them, except for their women. The chief’s daughter was the pick of the bunch, called Princess Sahara—the desert princess. That’s her."
Rainblade King’s interest plummeted, face full of mockery: "So she’s just some ordinary girl. Princess? More like a lowly border tramp."
"Ha! My friend, everyone knows you’ve got high standards. If she were just some nobody, I wouldn’t bring her out and embarrass myself." Zach Four, who started out auctioning exotic slaves, was great at building suspense. "This woman—well, she’s not exactly a princess, but she’s not completely unrelated either."
Rainblade King took the bait: "How so?"
"The South Wasteland Ancient Empire may be gone, but the Great Zhou never finished the job—they didn’t wipe out all the survivors. Most desert tribes have South Wasteland blood. As far as I know, this Princess Sahara really does have noble blood from the South Wasteland. The upper nobles there are mostly royal branches, so if you trace it back, Princess Sahara’s got royal lineage. She’s not a full-fledged princess, but she’s not a fake either. According to those desert folks, she’s a 'Divine Heir.'"
"Oh?!" Rainblade King’s interest shot up. "Really? You’ve gone all out, big bro!"
"Haha, I’d never slack off when entertaining a brother!" Zach Four clapped his hands, and right away several beautiful concubines were ushered into the tent. They wore revealing clothes, moved with graceful curves, and danced seductively—but their eyes were filled with fear and pain.
They had no choice but to obey. If they resisted even a little, their families would lose their heads.
Soon, the concubines, like stars around the moon, presented a young woman. She wore a sheer veil, her face hard to see, but she was obviously stunning. She was almost naked, her beautiful body nearly exposed. With every move, her breasts shook wildly—enough to make anyone dizzy.
Master Shade had seen plenty of wild scenes, but this kind of direct, sensual display wasn’t his thing. He knew it wasn’t meant for him anyway. Zach Four stroked his beard, feeling smug. Young men under twenty are all hormones—forget romance, just give them the straight deal: 'You milk me, I pay you.' That’s what they like.
Look at her, humiliated and desperate, forced to sell herself for her tribe—perfect appetizer with drinks. And look at that kid—eyes glued, tent pitched high... Whoa, how high is that tent? Is this kid some kind of prodigy?!
Damn... When I go see Jade Demoness later, I’ll make sure this kid’s up front. Anyway, the mood’s set—snagging this hothead should be a piece of cake for me, Zach Four.
With seductive music playing, Zach Four laughed and gave a push—the beauty crashed right into Rainblade King’s arms. The group burst out laughing; the atmosphere was sizzling.
Just as Rainblade King was about to get handsy, a long shout—"Report!"—came speeding in from afar.
"Hmm?" Zach Four raised an eyebrow.
"Sounds like good news." Master Shade decided to show his worth, so he wouldn’t be ignored: "Phantom Shadow Tower has set up the Celestial Dragnet—of course there’s news coming in now."
Sure enough, just as he finished speaking, a man in black robes rushed into the tent: "Master, urgent enemy report!"
"Oh?! Really?" Zach Four was thrilled. "Phantom Shadow Tower lives up to its name! My friend—" He knew how to keep the bait fresh; you can’t feed the donkey all at once if you want it to keep pulling the cart. So he turned to Rainblade King: "Enemy at the gates—let’s finish them off, then celebrate."
"Well..." Rainblade King glanced at the beauty in his arms, his killer instinct flaring up: "Don’t worry, bro—I’ll go take out Jade Demoness right now!"
"Haha, with you on board, my worries are over." Zach Four turned to the man in black: "Give us the Jade Demoness report."
But the man in black looked awkwardly at Master Shade, not sure if he should speak: "Uh..."
Now that’s a good subordinate—he listens to me when it counts! Master Shade smiled smugly, finally looking the part: "No hesitation, report!"
"Yes!" The man in black reported crisply: "Two days ago, the Sixth Slave-Catching Squad of the Fourth Team, Smoke Pot Mercenary Corps, was attacked by the enemy."
"Good, Jade Demoness finally couldn’t hold back." Zach Four schemed, "Bit my bait—now you’re stuck on my hook!"
"Well..." The man in black hesitated, then bit the bullet: "It wasn’t Jade Demoness."
Zach Four was surprised: "Not Jade Demoness? Then who? What other tribe in the South Wasteland would dare attack us?"
"Not a tribe—a person. Four days ago, that person encountered the Fourth Slave-Catching Squad under the Sixth Team, and two days ago met the Sixth Squad again. Our people used secret methods to leave messages, so we’ve just tracked the enemy’s movements."
"Messages?" Zach Four frowned. "Our people aren’t all dead?"
"Neither the Fourth Squad nor Sixth Team suffered any casualties."
"No casualties?" Zach Four was even more confused. "One person captured all those people?"
"Yes. To be precise, that person made the strongest among them pull his cart. Now six experts with over forty years of cultivation are hauling his carriage at full speed, day and night. We did everything we could to get ahead of the news, but that person is probably already..."
Before he could finish, a commotion erupted outside.
"Help! Somebody—help!"
That desperate cry was all too familiar—Zach Four recognized it instantly. Wasn’t that the Sixth Squad Captain, Qian Six?
The whole camp was in an uproar, shouts and yells blending together. There weren’t many people here, but every one was top-notch—Zach Four and Master Shade’s elite, the backbone against Jade Demoness. Hearing Qian Six, the hundred-plus crew quickly got moving, surging forward like a tidal wave.
Inside the tent, Zach Four was still reeling from the chaos, but Rainblade King couldn’t hold back—he grabbed his sword and strode out: "What punk dares stir up trouble here? Warm up my wine—after I cut him down, I’ll drink and party!"
His fun interrupted, he was fuming—no way he’d let it go.
"Alright, let’s see you win and set the tone for us!" Zach Four said the usual pleasantries, but his eyes darted around, sizing up the surprise challenger. Anyone who could take down the entire Sixth Squad solo had to be a top-tier innate master.
On the other side, Rainblade King knew this too—but he didn’t care. Within the ranks of innate kings, he feared no one now. Fired up, he moved like lightning and soon reached the camp perimeter.
In the middle of a tight encirclement was an old cart. The six experts who’d been pulling it had sprinted over to join their crew. Who knows what they’d been through lately—they looked like beggars now, no trace of their former elite status.
On the cart lay a man.
At first glance, Rainblade King was unimpressed—he’d never seen anyone so lazy. It radiated from every bit of skin, muscle, and bone: pure laziness. Too lazy to eat, move his hands, or even talk. Surrounded by a hundred elite fighters, he couldn’t be bothered to lift his eyelids. This was laziness on another level.
But the more Rainblade King looked, the more jealous he got—this man was annoyingly handsome. Just lying there, fiddling with a crystal or whatever, he had a weird magnetism that made everyone stare. He didn’t do a thing, yet he radiated nobility, totally out of this world.
That nobility—Rainblade King found it downright offensive.
So Rainblade King drew his sword with a flash—one stab, innate sword energy exploded. The sword qi tore through the air, so sharp even the onlookers’ hair stood on end. Qian Six, watching from the sidelines, grinned with satisfaction—this time, he was sure they’d win.
You made me haul your cart day and night—go haul your own crap!
Facing the sword, the man on the cart finally opened his eyes. Not scared at all, he gave a gentle smile: "Impressive skills, excellent swordsmanship—a rising star."
Compliment me? Think that’ll make me go easy on you? Watch me skewer you with one strike! Rainblade King’s sword qi flared even stronger.
With killing intent in the air, the man’s admiration didn’t fade: "Perfect for pulling carts."