Hauling the cart?
The sound jolted Zach Four awake, and a nameless terror gripped him. He glanced at the two men—just moments ago, they were all swagger and big talk, but now they looked like livestock, their dignity stomped flat. He didn’t know what they’d been through, but you didn’t need a genius to guess it wasn’t anything pleasant.
No way, I’m not hauling the cart! No way, absolutely not!
Driven by sheer panic, Zach Four let out a wild roar and suddenly chucked Quentin Sikes toward the old cart. He dug in his heels and bolted—not away, but straight for the shivering Princess Savannah.
Zach Four knew he couldn’t outfight Rainblade King, and he sure couldn’t out-scheme Phantom Shade Master. If those two were already toast, his usual bag of tricks was useless. With Infinite Essence right in front of him, his only shot was to grab a hostage and try to talk his way out!
He had no clue if the guy cared about these women’s safety, but desperate times call for desperate measures—he had to try anything!
Just then, a blade flashed up from under the old cart—not from the guy riding it, but from Rainblade King crawling in front. The capture squad captain, who’d come screaming, was suddenly silent as a red line split him from hip to skull, and with a wet crack, he split in two. Blood sprayed everywhere, Rainblade King tilted his head, wild hair streaked with blood, revealing a crazed, twisted grin.
Why should I be the only one? Come on, come on, nobody’s getting away—I want the whole world to haul this cart!
The man on the cart glanced at Rainblade King, his cold eyes unmoved. It’s nice when the livestock are proactive—if I have to do everything myself, what’s the point of livestock? Might as well pull the cart myself. Speaking of livestock… his gaze shifted—this one’s a bit unruly.
Looks like I’ll need a Poké Ball to catch this one.
With a flick of his long fingers, an icy pellet appeared at his fingertips. The man gave it a lazy snap, and the pellet shot out like a laser, zipping straight into Zach Four’s lower back. The ice was just for show—it didn’t blow a hole in his kidney, but sank in like a pebble vanishing into water, burrowing deep into his meridians.
Ding—like wind chimes in a breeze, like ripples in a pond, invisible waves swept through Zach Four’s whole body and every meridian.
Zach Four was halfway through his charge when everything fizzled out. His fingers crackled with energy, but under those invisible ripples, everything just vanished. It was like his body wasn’t his own anymore, and his true energy had gone rogue. Mouth open, eyes wide, throat rasping, but not a single word came out.
Thud! Zach Four toppled backwards, landing face-first in the dust.
Phantom Shade Master, pushing the cart from behind, was shaking all over. It was back—again! That ultimate terror! Worse than any torture, worse than any threat, like your body and true energy had ditched you, leaving only your soul locked in a prison you couldn’t escape.
This was crueler than any black cell or dungeon. If I didn’t want to go through it a second time, why else would I have surrendered so fast?
You think I want to push this cart? My arms and legs won’t even listen to me!
"Ah—!" Zach Four struggled in the dust, gathering every scrap of true energy he could still control into his right hand. Last chance! With a boom, he slapped the ground, hoping at least to stand up.
But then, a single grain of sand smacked right into his elbow.
Not a vital point, not a meridian, not a muscle, not anywhere important. But his energy, just about to burst out, twisted out of control—Zach Four stared in horror as his own hand swerved and, in a blink, smacked himself square in the face.
Smack!
The sound was crisp, with a hint of something snapping. Zach Four spun like a yo-yo, whizzing around a few times before crashing hard to the ground.
Rainblade King’s eyes blazed with excitement. There it was again—the godlike power to hijack and flip someone else’s strength! They say money belongs to others and skill is your own, but after all that sword training, to have your technique betray you in a split second? That helpless feeling sticks with you for life, makes you feel like a total loser, just a puppet for someone else.
Still, every time he saw another sucker get caught, Rainblade King couldn’t help feeling a weird thrill.
Good, good, everyone should give it a try—come help this demon haul the cart!
Thump. The man on the cart tapped the side lightly, and both Rainblade King and Phantom Shade Master froze, then uncontrollably yanked the cart forward at top speed. Zach Four, dizzy and spitting blood, lay face-down in the dust. As the wave that stripped away everything faded, Zach Four shook his head, ready to get up—only to hear a creak, and something hard slammed down on his back.
This old cart didn’t have wheels, just sand boards for sliding. With two martial arts masters pulling, it glided over like a ghost, the sand board pressing down on Zach Four’s back and pinning him in the yellow sand.
Zach Four struggled and fought, but the sand board was loaded with weird powers, stabbing all his vital points like a thousand needles. Ding-a-ling—like wind chimes, invisible ripples buzzed nonstop. His swollen pig face froze in despair, then he was squished deep under the sand, turned into a permanent accessory under the board.
"If you don’t want to haul the cart, I won’t force you," the man on the cart said, giving the old cart a friendly pat and flashing a smile like he really cared about public opinion. "Then you can be the padding underneath."
Padding underneath?
Damn, that’s even worse than hauling the cart!
The two earlier recruits shivered, suddenly thinking hauling the cart wasn’t so bad after all. Compared to being the padding, pulling the cart was a sweet gig. Please, let him not need anyone else under the board!
"I always thought this sand board had way too much friction—never comfy enough. Now it’s a bit better. Still, it’s kinda off-balance," the man said, lazily rubbing his chin and pretending to ponder. "There’s a cushion on the right but nothing on the left. The driving experience just isn’t right."
Rainblade King and Phantom Shade Master both shuddered, screaming inside—Pick him! Pick him! I love my job, I swear!
"Three players, missing one."
Missing one? So you’re not changing the current lineup?
Missing one’s good! If we’re short, just grab another—just tell us who you want, boss! Rain or shine, we’ll deliver!
"Perfect." The man looked up, his penetrating gaze seeming to cut through every barrier, staring out beyond the marketplace. "They’re here."