Who's coming? Someone's coming?
The two brutes were just thinking this when, out of nowhere, a desolate horn sounded from afar. The horn was powerful, vast, fierce, and brimming with killing intent. A wave of battle cries surged like a tsunami, sweeping over the whole Sandrift Oasis from all directions. Then, countless screams rose one after another.
"Jade Demoness!" a master cried out in shock, his voice carrying from afar.
Phantom Shade Master was startled.
The man on the carriage swept his wide sleeve lightly, releasing a subtle force that was almost imperceptible. Without turning his head, and not particularly concerned, he asked, "Who is this Jade Demoness?"
Phantom Shade Master knew he was being asked, because he suddenly felt a lightness in his throat.
Can I speak now?
I can really speak now!
That wasn't just acupoint sealing—it was far scarier than that. Acupoint sealing can be undone, but this felt like he'd lost the ability to speak forever. Suddenly, Phantom Shade Master realized that being able to talk freely was a huge blessing.
He immediately bowed his head obediently and spilled everything he knew: "The Sand Thieves of the South Wasteland—rose up three years ago, beat out all the other bandit gangs, and now they're the biggest sand thief group in the South Wasteland. They've got a long-standing feud with the Smoke Pot Mercenary Corps, and they've raided slave-catching teams many times. Zach Four called in backup just to deal with her."
“Kill them—!”
As the battle cry rang out, a fleet of Sand Skiffs leapt into action. Among them, one elite squad stood out—not just mindlessly hacking away, but turning their Sand Skiff into a disciplined combat platform. Some cast nets, some fired arrows, some darted about, others jabbed with spears; every move was crisp and clean, nothing like a ragtag mob. Led by this sharp unit, and backed by sheer numbers, several Sand Skiffs would call out a target and quickly wipe out the Smoke Pot Mercenary Corps, leaving them scattered and armorless.
On the largest Sand Skiff flagship, an old man stood by the prow. Dressed in a style that screamed ‘liberated and self-assured,’ he was the kind of elder who didn’t care much for dignity or shame. Yet everyone around him looked at him with a mix of awe and respect.
Don’t let his scruffy looks fool you—this old guy is the biggest boss in the South Wasteland, and also the head of the largest Sand Skiff factory. His network stretches across the whole desert, with daily deals worth a fortune. Thanks to a secret tip from Sandrift Oasis, the crowd avoided the smokescreen traps and went straight for the Smoke Pot Mercenary Corps’ main camp, landing a thunderous blow.
The old man strutted around, chest out, showing off his wild figure. In the dead of winter, he dressed like he was vacationing at the beach, and wore what looked like local-made black crystal sunglasses—definitely not from Earth, but crafted from native black crystal. Pricey as a fortress, but honestly, he only wore them to show off.
The old man’s voice was one of a kind—once you heard it, you’d never forget.
"Hahaha, you punks! Time for a heavenly punishment! You wanna swagger around the South Wasteland and make a name for yourselves? Ever asked your Grandpa for permission? The Linlin Tribe’s Grandpa is me, and I’ve got ties with every major clan around here. You dare snatch women from us? Here’s my message for you—" The old man raised his middle finger over the bodies of the Smoke Pot Mercenary Corps and shouted, "Eat shit, you mercenary losers! One day, Grandpa’s gonna shove that big smoke pot right up your old ***!"
“Don’t get cocky, some things aren’t so easy.” Amidst the clatter of footsteps, a tall, imposing man appeared beside the old man. Middle-aged, with graying hair, a somber and rugged face, he radiated an intimidating aura that made the air feel cold and sharp—the kind of presence that turned heads.
The surrounding skiff crew instantly snapped to attention, standing straight as if facing their own drill sergeant.
Truth is, they weren’t far off. This guy was Jade Demoness’s military instructor, known as her left and right arms. All those elite fighters had been trained by him—his tactical skills were top-notch. The reason this three-thousand-strong army could move in orderly waves and push forward steadily was all thanks to his strict command and iron discipline.
When he spoke, nobody dared ignore him.
“These folks are no amateurs, but it seems their nerve cracked early. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have had such an easy time.” His cold gaze swept the battlefield, and he pointed, “The Smoke Pot Mercenary Corps did have decent training, with some order and discipline. But when they first arrived, they charged in like madmen, totally out of formation—one clash and they scattered, one kill and they panicked. Now, even though they’re being crushed, they refuse to retreat, determined to fight to the last man. Clearly, something’s up in Sandrift Oasis, and we just happened to stumble in at the right moment.”
The old man pushed up his sunglasses for a closer look and realized it was true.
That was pretty scary—these mercenaries would rather risk their lives in a desperate breakout than return to Sandrift Oasis. Whatever’s brewing in there, it spooked them more than this three-thousand-strong army.
Still, the old man figured things were under control.
“Not with you here.” The old man had full faith in the middle-aged man’s martial prowess. “With you around, what could possibly go wrong?”
“Careful up ahead… huh?!” Suddenly, the middle-aged man’s eyes narrowed, and he raised his voice: “Order the whole army to halt and regroup—fall back to formation!”
His internal energy was so powerful that his shout drowned out every battle cry on the field.
But for some reason, a soft, dull voice lingered—a sound no shout could cover or suppress.
Creak, creak—a battered old cart rolled into view.
When he spoke, nobody dared ignore him.
“These folks are no amateurs, but it seems their nerve cracked early. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have had such an easy time.” His cold gaze swept the battlefield, and he pointed, “The Smoke Pot Mercenary Corps did have decent training, with some order and discipline. But when they first arrived, they charged in like madmen, totally out of formation—one clash and they scattered, one kill and they panicked. Now, even though they’re being crushed, they refuse to retreat, determined to fight to the last man. Clearly, something’s up in Sandrift Oasis, and we just happened to stumble in at the right moment.”
The old man pushed up his sunglasses for a closer look and realized it was true.
That was pretty scary—these mercenaries would rather risk their lives in a desperate breakout than return to Sandrift Oasis. Whatever’s brewing in there, it spooked them more than this three-thousand-strong army.
Still, the old man figured things were under control.
“Not with you here.” The old man had full faith in the middle-aged man’s martial prowess. “With you around, what could possibly go wrong?”
“Careful up ahead… huh?!” Suddenly, the middle-aged man’s eyes narrowed, and he raised his voice: “Order the whole army to halt and regroup—fall back to formation!”
His internal energy was so powerful that his shout drowned out every battle cry on the field.
But for some reason, a soft, dull voice lingered—a sound no shout could cover or suppress.
Creak, creak—a battered old cart rolled into view.