Chapter 261: Elite Gathering

Chapter 261: A Gathering of Heroes

Around the outskirts of the night market, tents and camps dotted the desert on all sides. In the deep of night, the clamor of voices had faded compared to dusk, yet there were still men hauling goods and loading carts, toiling away.

Zhao Changhe watched from afar, reminded of scenes from harbor docks—truly a hub of commerce and trade.

He wondered what unspoken understanding existed among the various merchant caravans, whether they had already divided their territories in advance. Each seemed to have its own domain, undisturbed by others; though crowded, there was no chaos.

This, in turn, made it convenient for Zhao Changhe to investigate. If everything were a tangled mess, that would be a real headache.

He found the Qiao family’s caravan camp with ease. At that moment, people were still carrying goods inside—jewelry, spices, sheepskin, things meant to be taken back to the Central Plains. The deliverymen appeared to be Hu merchants from the market, and he could faintly hear their discontented grumbling: “Second Master Qiao has grown quite arrogant these days, hiding in his tent without even showing his face. Is this the etiquette of you Central Plains folk?”

A man who seemed to be a steward replied with an apologetic smile: “Actually, Second Master Qiao took the young master into the market, but they got into a fight while eating at Third Lady’s place…”

“Second Master Qiao has grown bold enough to provoke Yuan San Niang? Even Commander Wu dares not force that woman—they say she has backing!”

“Ah, it wasn’t that they provoked Third Lady. But the other party might be no small figure—I heard it was Wang Daozhong of the Wang family. With his Earth List strength, he clamped his arm under his armpit and snapped Second Master’s hand clean off.” The steward mimicked the motion, wincing. “That’s terrifying…”

The Hu merchant sucked in a sharp breath: “What kind of god descending to earth is this? If he’s truly Earth List strength, it really might be Wang Daozhong.”

“Yes, that’s what we think too. Even if it’s a fake Wang family member, Second Master wouldn’t dare gamble—what if it’s real? He still has to get by back in the Central Plains.”

“Speaking of which, someone from the Wang family dares to appear near the War Lion tribe?”

“Who knows? The War Lion tribe is like a clay Buddha crossing the river—they probably have no mind to trouble the Wang family now…”

The two chatted as they walked inside, surrounded by a crowd of laborers hauling goods, with a few guards trailing behind.

No one noticed that among the bustling workers, a sallow-faced man had somehow joined in, blending into the camp and even dutifully helping carry loads all the way to the carts for loading.

Because he felt their conversation was full of useful information, worth eavesdropping on a bit longer.

Sure enough, he heard the Hu merchant ask: “So, about those six slaves you mentioned bringing this time—are they on the carts?”

The steward glanced around instinctively, lowering his voice: “These are all martial arts experts from the Central Plains—the weakest at the fifth level of the Mystic Gate, the strongest at the seventh. The price won’t be low. Second Master plans to take them to the beast arena for auction; Commander Wu might be very interested.”

The Hu merchant frowned: “That’s not good merchandise… Too strong a martial artist is hard to control—they might escape or even turn on you. I’m afraid aside from Commander Wu, few forces would dare take them. You won’t just fail to fetch a good price; Commander Wu might force you to sell cheap.”

The steward clearly felt the same, sighing: “I think it’s unwise too, but Second Master sees it as a business opportunity…”

The Hu merchant asked: “How did Second Master capture them? That’s no easy feat. I’ve seen a sixth-level expert—once they use lightness skill, they’re faster than a horse and have just as much stamina.”

“They were scouting the Desolate Wolf tribe, got discovered, and were being chased. In their flight, they spotted our caravan. Seeing it was a Central Plains caravan, they thought they were saved.” The steward smiled faintly. “Second Master welcomed them into the group, then turned around and captured them.”

Zhao Changhe took a deep breath, clenching his fists so hard he barely kept from drawing his blade.

He had found the lead to Cui Yuanyong’s mission far more easily than expected. Good thing he hadn’t killed those two Qiao men back at the tavern—otherwise, the caravan would have been thrown into chaos, likely retreating immediately, cutting off the trail, and they might have killed the prisoners to avoid trouble.

But Zhao Changhe felt no relief now; instead, he was a thousand times more furious than when he arrived.

That squad were hot-blooded men, come to defend Yanmen Pass, risking life and limb to scout beyond the border! They weren’t out on a pleasure trip!

They were resisting the barbarians—who were they protecting?

Those men probably never imagined, even in death, that they would be betrayed by the very people they were protecting. The spiritual blow was far worse than any physical destruction.

A blessing in disguise: they were still alive, not crippled. If rescued, they’d still be six fine men.

Even the notoriously profit-driven Hu merchant found it hard to stomach, asking: “All for the money from a few slaves?”

“Not just that. This batch of grain we’re delivering is meant for the Desolate Wolf tribe. If they stayed with the caravan, wouldn’t they see everything? If they reported back to Huangfu Yongxian or Tang Wanzhuang, what would we do? Either kill them or capture them and sell them—it’s the same thing.”

The Hu merchant didn’t want to press further, merely saying: “We’re old friends. Just sell this batch directly to me—don’t bother with the auction. Take my advice, it’s not worth it. If Commander Wu takes a fancy, you might have to give them away for free anyway.”

The steward said: “I don’t have the authority to decide that. You’ll have to ask Second Master.”

The Hu merchant replied: “They’re still loading goods anyway. I might as well go check on Second Master’s injury.”

The two walked toward the tent. Zhao Changhe pretended to haul cargo, pondering to himself.

There were too many people here to rescue anyone. Even the slightest disturbance would draw the entire thousand-man caravan to surround him. Even if he forced a rescue, he couldn’t escape. This highlighted the inconvenience of being alone—if he had a partner to cause a diversion elsewhere, he could maneuver here…

Should he find some help? Maybe pay Third Lady to lend a hand—would she agree?

Just as he was mulling it over, a commotion erupted at the camp gate: “Where did this drunkard come from? Get lost!”

A vaguely familiar voice, slurred with drink, replied: “Damn it—you think I’ve got no money? Where are your Hu girls? Come out and dance!”

Zhao Changhe’s eyes lit up.

Situ Xiao!

Help had arrived!

The gate guards cursed angrily: “Damn you, this isn’t a Hu girl brothel! The whorehouse you want is at the other end! I’d like to go there myself!”

“Not a Hu girl brothel? I don’t believe it! You look like a whore to me…”

“Get lost, you drunken fool!”

A scuffle broke out at the gate. Inside the main tent, Second Master Qiao, his arm in a sling, was seeing the Hu merchant out and talking when he saw the ruckus. Enraged, he shouted: “Where’s this drunkard causing trouble? Send a few men to check!”

His subordinates obeyed and went. Second Master Qiao said to the Hu merchant: “Brother, you’re right—it’s better to sell these men privately to you and be done with it…”

Before he finished, a sword flash erupted from behind the tent.

It was a sword that had lain in ambush there for who knows how long—perhaps since the Qiao pair had gone to the market for dinner. The assassin had found no suitable moment to strike and had waited motionless for hours.

Only the top assassins of the Listening Snow Pavilion, or bounty hunters by trade, could manage such patience.

Han Wubing!

Seizing this golden opportunity with the gate in chaos, the long-lurking Han Wubing struck without hesitation, aiming to assassinate Second Master Qiao!

But to his surprise, though Second Master Qiao was mediocre in skill and had a broken hand, the killing blow was blocked.

With a clang, the Hu merchant’s scimitar intercepted Han Wubing’s fatal thrust. Han Wubing twisted past, and the Hu merchant staggered back several steps.

“I never expected a Western Region Hu to possess such skill. I miscalculated,” Han Wubing thought. With no time to finish off Second Master Qiao, he swiftly retreated toward the rear of the camp.

Second Master Qiao was instantly surrounded by guards, hopping and raging in the crowd: “What are you all standing around for? Block him, you fools at the front!”

A tide of men surged toward Han Wubing. In the darkness, he moved like a ghost, spraying blood wherever he passed. A trail of gore and screams marked his path as he fought his way out of the camp.

At the gate, Situ Xiao, who had been causing trouble, stood dumbfounded.

He had never even met Han Wubing, let alone coordinated with him. He had simply spotted the Central Plains merchant caravan here for trade, felt a surge of anger, and on a whim decided to stir up trouble to lure Second Master Qiao out, hoping to take his head and flee.

But before his plan could unfold, someone inside had already attempted assassination.

What a fine man.

Facing the gate guards’ suspicious looks that clearly pegged him as an accomplice, Situ Xiao felt no frustration at being caught in the crossfire. Instead, he willingly embraced the role. Taking a leisurely swig of wine, he suddenly spat it toward the campfire torch at the gate.

With a roar, flames shot into the sky. The gate, the tents, the carts laden with goods and spices and clothing—all caught fire, spreading wildly.

The camp finally descended into chaos. The men who had been loading carts were drawn away, dropping their work at their foreman’s shouts to rush and fight the fire.

Zhao Changhe watched the suddenly empty carts around him. Swiftly, he began wrenching open one carriage door after another, searching.

“Brothers, hold on a little longer. I’ll rescue these men and come back to help you both.”

Bang! He opened a dozen empty carriages. Finally, one seemed to hold several figures lying unconscious inside. Zhao Changhe’s eyes lit up. He was about to climb in when a chill brushed the side of his neck.

Instinctively, he dodged, but the opponent’s sword technique was so exquisite that, having lost the initiative, he couldn’t evade at all…

The blade was already at his throat. A cold voice came from behind: “Which cart holds the grain and fodder? Take me to it… Huh, this blade of yours…”

Zhao Changhe sighed. Turning, he saw a long-missed face behind him. “You’ve stolen the grain and fodder—why not take me along too? How about making me your captive husband?”

Yue Hongling's eyes widened.