Peculiar Slave Captain, Phantom Shadow Tower Lord, Rainblade King

Sandrift Oasis is a patch of green in the desert, dotted with ancient buildings—a perfect spot for rest and relaxation. Once, traders and hustlers packed the place, making it a lively settlement. But now, every household keeps their doors shut, not daring to make a sound. The air is tense and deadly, swirling with the wind, as Sandrift Oasis has been taken over by a gang of outlaws.

This gang numbers a little over a hundred, made up of two factions. The bigger group—about ninety strong—wears matching desert gear: robes, knives at their waists, and sharp, tough faces. Not one of them has less than thirty years of training. The other thirty or so, also in matching long black robes, give off a chilling vibe wherever they go—definitely not the good guys.

The residents of Sandrift Oasis hide in their homes, not daring to show their faces, but a few streetwise hustlers have already figured out who these people are.

One group is the Smoke Pot Mercenary Corps, a sprawling organization that deals in human trafficking. They started out snatching and selling peculiar slaves, mostly targeting loners and oddballs, so the desert tribes never paid much attention. But lately, their power has ballooned like a blown-up balloon, and they’ve turned into full-blown bandits—grabbing folks out in the open and terrorizing the Southern Wastes.

And those black-robed folks running with the Smoke Pot Mercenary Corps? They’re no saints either. They call themselves Phantom Shadow Tower, once a big deal back in the Flower Nation. These guys are pros at shady business—kidnapping, assassinations, selling secrets. Tough customers, all of them. But lately, Phantom Shadow Tower seems to have left the Flower Nation and keeps popping up in the Southern Wastes, looking like they’re teaming up with the Smoke Pot Mercenary Corps.

To be precise, it’s Zach Four, the fourth deputy leader of the Mercenary Corps.

The big boss of the Mercenary Corps, Old Smoke Pot, doesn’t have time to mess with these small fry.

In the tense and silent Sandrift Oasis, there’s only one spot bubbling with laughter and song.

“Hahaha! Master Shade, you’re a man of your word. Let me toast you again!” Zach Four, in his thirties and full of energy, sports a butler-style mustache, rolls up his sleeves, and raises his glass—looking almost respectable. “Jade Demoness has been a scourge in the Southern Wastes for ages, running wild and causing trouble. She deserves to be taken out. If you help me get rid of her, Master Shade, I’ll never forget your kindness.”

All that talk about saving the Southern Wastes is just for show—Zach Four knows exactly what kind of reputation the Mercenary Corps has. Jade Demoness has been a thorn in their side for years, raiding their caravans, snatching slaves, and causing massive losses. She’s slippery as a ghost, striking fast and vanishing, making her almost impossible to root out.

The last two folks who held the title of fourth deputy got canned because of Jade Demoness—nasty outcomes, let’s just say. In the Mercenary Corps, there’s no such thing as a safe retirement. Third time’s the charm, so the new fourth deputy is determined to deal with Jade Demoness once and for all. Phantom Shadow Tower is the muscle he’s brought in. Their combat skills might be outdated, but when it comes to finding people, they’re top-notch. If these guys can pinpoint Jade Demoness’s location, the rest will be a walk in the park.

Besides... Zach Four glanced at Master Shade, a sly little scheme ticking away in his head. But on the surface, he kept up his eager grin and downed his drink.

“Deputy Four, you can really hold your liquor!” Master Shade followed suit and finished his cup without a drop to spare. He’s in his fifties, with a half-gray beard on his chin. Zach Four might have his own schemes, but Master Shade—an old hand—sees right through him. “Thanks for the invitation, Deputy Four. I wouldn’t dare slack off. Phantom Shadow Tower has already scattered its best men, so we should hear news soon. With you calling the shots, Jade Demoness doesn’t stand a chance.”

Master Shade knows exactly what’s up—Zach Four wants to use this chance to swallow up Phantom Shadow Tower, or at least make them his underlings to boost his own power.

Back in the day, Master Shade wouldn’t have given this punk the time of day. But times have changed, so now he’s the one making the first move: “Once Jade Demoness is caught and we’ve got this big win, Deputy Four, you might not be deputy for long—you’ll be moving up. And of course, if you need my help, I won’t say no.”

He doesn’t haggle—he’s got nothing left to bargain with.

“Ahahaha, Master Shade, you’re too kind! I’ll be counting on your advice!”

“Not at all, not at all! The new wave always overtakes the old—my old bones wouldn’t dare act like a big shot. It’s young talents like Deputy Four and Rainblade King who can really make waves in the martial world.” As he spoke, Master Shade glanced at the third person sitting in the tent.

He’s a kid not even twenty—barely more than a teenager. He stuffs his face, acting like he owns the place. Hearing Master Shade’s words, he doesn’t bother with politeness. Instead, he snorts arrogantly: “Of course! At least you know your place, old man. If you’ve got a problem, let’s settle it right now!”

Master Shade keeps a polite smile, looking refined, but he’s secretly cursing up a storm. In the old days, he would’ve taken this brat’s head and used it as a chamber pot—but now, he can’t. He’s no match!

That’s right—Phantom Shadow Tower didn’t head south by choice. They just couldn’t survive in the Central Plains anymore!

Master Shade misses the old days—the time before the Wedding Dress Divine Skill appeared, when fifty years of training was enough to start your own school, and a single innate master could rule the roost. Sure, there were always oddballs, but the old hands had a huge advantage.

Back then, he wasn’t an innate master yet, but he was still a big shot. Running a chunk of the intelligence biz made him a decent underground boss. Now, even though he’s reached the innate level, his status has plummeted—he’s nearly a nobody in the Central Plains martial world. He can’t even throw his weight around in the Southern Wastes, the weakest region of all.

Just look at this tent—he’s the oldest of the three here, but when it comes to strength, his first-tier innate power is actually the lowest.

Zach Four and Rainblade King—both of them outclass him! Especially Rainblade King: he might act like a weird, cocky kid, but Master Shade has no choice but to suck up to him. Because this Yu Feiyu has already broken through to the third tier of innate mastery!

“Rainblade King, you’re too kind. I wouldn’t dare compete with you. Everyone knows you’re a rising star down south, a real name on the Innate Ranking.”

“You nailed it, Master Shade,” Zach Four said, trying to act like he’s got some clout, though he doesn’t need to grovel quite as much. Still, he kept things friendly: “Rainblade, you’re here in the Southern Wastes to train—bet your skills will reach new heights.”

“If you want to master divine skills, you’ve got to get to the roots! Training with Southern Wastes techniques means eating their food, drinking their booze, and playing with their women. When I hit the King’s Peak, I’ll hold back my power and clean up the Innate Ranking—take out everyone who blocked my way! Then I’ll head north to Shengjing, bag those legendary princesses, and see just how irresistible Princess Embroidered Jade and Princess Flower Shifter really are.” Rainblade King patted his sword, flashing a fanatic smile.