While Qiao Zi'an and the high-ranking oligarchs of the Double Eagle Merchant Alliance were busy cutting deals with the undead, they remained blissfully ignorant of the storm gathering in their own backyard.
In the fortified heart of Anping Town, within the headquarters of the Iron Wheel warband, the atmosphere was thick with tension and cigarette smoke. Xiao Ke had summoned his inner circle—Ling Feng, Ye Yun, Qin Bing, and his heavy hitters, Duan Canglong and Luo Hou. This wasn't a social call; it was a war council.
Xiao Ke stood before a sprawling tactical map, his expression grim. He didn't waste time with pleasantries. He laid out the intelligence Liu Feifei had risked her life to obtain, and then, with a cold detachment, he detailed his blood feud with Qiao Zhennan.
For Qin Bing, Duan Canglong, and Luo Hou, this was old news. They knew the history. They knew that Qiao Zhennan had marked Xiao Ke for death ever since the incident with Qiao Mingxuan. The animosity between the Iron Wheel and the Qiao family was the bedrock of their loyalty. They didn't flinch.
However, the revelation landed differently for Ling Feng and Ye Yun.
Ling Feng hailed from a powerful aristocratic family, and Ye Yun was the scion of a high-ranking noble clan. By blood and heritage, their families were aligned with the Cabinet faction—the very same political machine that backed the Qiao family. Xiao Ke watched them closely. He wasn't just informing them; he was testing the waters. Before he gave the order to hijack a shipment belonging to one of the most powerful families in the empire, he needed to know where his lieutenants stood.
Ling Feng broke the silence first. Despite his noble blood, he was an illegitimate son—a "bastard" in the eyes of high society. He had spent his life being marginalized, treated as a second-class citizen within his own home. He held no love for the aristocracy; in fact, his decision to join the Glory training program and align with the Imperial faction was a direct rebellion against the elitism that had suffocated him since childhood.
He leaned back in his chair, a reckless grin playing on his lips. "Boss, you make the call, and I'm right there with you. No questions asked."
He gestured dismissively at the map. "We're brothers. We live and die together. Qiao Zhennan didn't just insult you; he ordered the Hanlin elites to execute you during the Autumn Hunting Tournament. He sent assassins into the Lawless Lands to hunt you down like a dog. If we swallow that insult, we're finished. Besides," Ling Feng chuckled, his eyes hardening, "this is the Lawless Lands. The Qiao family's influence ends where the pavement stops. Their power here is limited to this merchant alliance. I say we hit them. We hit them hard, take their cargo, and let them choke on the loss."
Xiao Ke nodded, satisfied, and turned his gaze to Ye Yun. The young man possessed a jade-like countenance, gentle and refined, a stark contrast to the rugged wasteland around them. "And you, Third Brother? What's your take?"
Ye Yun smiled with a calm, pragmatic expression. "Big Brother, Ling Feng is right. Qiao Zhennan isn't giving you a way to live, so why should we show him any courtesy? Taking this shipment isn't just about revenge; it's about survival."
He tapped a finger on the ledger sitting on the table. "I've heard this cargo is worth a fortune. The Iron Wheel stands alone. We have no government funding, no backers. We are bleeding money."
The reality of their situation was harsh. Since the inception of the Iron Wheel, the financial burden had rested almost entirely on Ling Feng and Ye Yun, with Ye Yun shouldering the lion's share. But even for the eldest daughter of the wealthy Ye Clan—disguised here as a man—the costs were becoming unsustainable.
An army is a beast that never stops eating. Over a thousand soldiers required food, clean water, and shelter. Weapons needed to be purchased and maintained. The wounded needed medicine; the families of the fallen needed pensions. It was a bottomless pit of expenditure. If this continued, even a landlord's vast granaries would soon be swept clean.
Moreover, Ye Yun was walking a dangerous tightrope. She was a woman in a world that viewed her as a bargaining chip for marriage, not a military commander. The Ye Clan would never pour infinite resources into a daughter who was destined to marry into another family. Investing in her was seen as sewing a wedding dress for someone else to wear.
Xiao Ke had anticipated hesitation. To strike at the Double Eagle Merchant Alliance was to slap the face of the establishment. That both Ling Feng and Ye Yun were eager to pull the trigger was a pleasant surprise.
"Good," Xiao Ke said, his voice dropping to a command frequency. "Duan Canglong, Luo Hou. Take your best men. I want you disguised—merchants, bounty hunters, drifters. Scour the sector around Baize City. Keep your eyes peeled for the Double Eagle crest. If you see a convoy heading toward the Thousand Needle Stone Forest, I want to know immediately. Get me numbers, get me combat strength estimates. We need to know exactly how much force to bring to bear."
"Yes, Commander!" the two officers roared in unison.
Xiao Ke turned to his inner circle. "The rest of you, prepare for war. Strip your gear of any identifying marks. We aren't the Iron Wheel for this operation; we are ghosts. We're going to bleed the Qiao family, but we can't afford a total war just yet. We need elite squads, fast and lethal."
"Understood!"
The wasteland was a place of stark, brutal beauty. The setting sun bled crimson across the horizon, casting long, skeletal shadows from the twisted branches of an ancient, dead tree.
Beneath the tree sat Ye Tianlong.
His face was gaunt, his expression cold and unyielding. In his left hand, he held a block of dense ironwood; in his right, a razor-sharp carving knife. He worked with a fluid, hypnotic rhythm. Wood shavings curled and fell like snow as a face began to emerge from the grain—the vague, haunting outline of a peerless beauty.
It was a moment of profound stillness, of an artist lost in his craft.
Then, the trance broke.
Ye Tianlong's eyes, previously filled with a sorrowful obsession, snapped into a glare of icy rage. His left hand clenched. Crunch. The half-finished sculpture, the labor of hours, was crushed into splinters in an instant.
He turned his head slowly, his neck craning like a bird of prey. Thirty meters away, a shadow detached itself from the gloom.
The figure had been creeping up on him, silent as a grave, trying to peer over his shoulder. It was the Shadow Assassin. For days, this lethal game of cat and mouse had played out across the desert.
Shadow hadn't expected Ye Tianlong's perception to be so acute. He had tried to synchronize his movements with the wind, hoping to catch a glimpse of the carving during Ye Tianlong's moment of vulnerability.
It had started as a tactical necessity—Shadow wanted to identify the object of Ye Tianlong's obsession, looking for a psychological weakness. But now? Now it was a personal itch he couldn't scratch. Why did the stoic warrior carve the same face over and over? Why did his mood shift so violently upon completion? Why did he destroy them?
The curiosity was driving the assassin mad.
"Failed again," Shadow muttered, realizing the distance was too great to close before Ye Tianlong could react. He could feel the cold fury radiating from the warrior, could almost taste the fluctuation of Origin Force gathering around the dagger in Ye Tianlong's hand.
Shadow's scarred, somewhat grotesque face twisted into a mocking grin. "Heh heh... Brother Ye. No need for the hostility. I just wanted to see your art. Why are you so shy? If you won't let me look, I'll just be on my way."
With a sudden swish, Shadow blurred, darting to the left in a feint to escape.
But Ye Tianlong moved like a phantom. In a blink, he intercepted the trajectory, blocking the path. He idly flipped his dagger, the steel catching the last of the dying sunlight.
"Since you're here," Ye Tianlong said, his voice devoid of emotion, "you might as well stay. Permanently."
Shadow let out a raspy cackle. "Ye Tianlong, is this necessary? We're evenly matched. If I want to leave, you can't stop me. We have no blood feud, and my contract isn't even on your head. Why don't we just laugh this off and go our separate ways?"
Ye Tianlong stared at him. He seemed to genuinely consider the proposal for a long, silent moment. Then, he shook his head slowly.
"Looking at a face as ugly as yours," Ye Tianlong deadpanned, "I find it impossible to laugh."
The grin vanished from Shadow's face. His ego, fragile and volatile, snapped. "You have a death wish. Do you think I run because I fear you? I run because I'm a professional. But today? Today I'll carve you."
Ye Tianlong raised an eyebrow, shifting his stance. "Come."
"Come then! I'm not afraid of you!"
Shadow abandoned his usual evasive tactics. Screaming in rage, he lunged, a blur of lethal intent.
A microscopic sneer touched the corner of Ye Tianlong's mouth. This was what he wanted. For days, Shadow had been a ghost—striking from the dark, retreating the moment resistance was met. He was slippery, frustrating, and impossible to pin down.
But anger makes men predictable. Anger makes them commit.
Clang!
The two combatants collided with the force of meteorites. Ye Tianlong's dagger slashed through empty air as Shadow ducked, but Ye Tianlong compensated instantly, driving a brutal elbow into the assassin's ribs. Simultaneously, Shadow slammed his shoulder into Ye Tianlong's chest.
The impact forced them apart, boots skidding through the gravel.
Ye Tianlong tasted blood. His organs felt like they had been put in a blender, but the pain only sharpened his focus. His fighting spirit roared to life, a blazing inferno.
"Again!" he barked, readying his blade.
"Good!" Shadow yelled back.
But as Ye Tianlong braced for the second clash, Shadow spun on his heel. With a burst of speed, he shot away into the darkening desert.
Ye Tianlong stood frozen, dumbfounded. Didn't we just agree to a death match?
Shadow's voice drifted back on the wind, mocking and distant. "Heh heh... Little Brother Ye, your provocation tactics are childish. I'm not falling for it. I was just teasing you. Big Brother is leaving now! Hahaha!"
Ye Tianlong gripped his dagger until his knuckles turned white. His face was a mask of frustration. They were both Level 9 Valiant Generals, but Shadow's class was Assassin. Escape wasn't just a tactic; it was an art form. Unless Shadow wanted to stay, there was nothing Ye Tianlong could do to hold him.
The following afternoon, the heavy iron gates of Baize City groaned open.
A massive convoy rolled out, kicking up clouds of yellow dust. It was a formidable sight: twenty armed off-road vehicles, twenty transport trucks, and twenty sealed container trucks. The sheer volume of the escort suggested the cargo was priceless.
Emblazoned on the side of every vehicle was a symbol known throughout the region: a short spear flanked by two eagles. The left eagle held an olive branch; the right held a gold coin.
The Double Eagle Merchant Alliance.
The symbolism was arrogant and clear. The spear was force. The olive branch was peace. The coin was traded. We are merchants who love peace, the logo said, but we have the power to kill you, so take the money and don't touch the goods.
Usually, this worked. In the lawless ecosystem of Baize City, small gangs lacked the firepower to attack the Double Eagle, and the large warlords considered it bad for business to antagonize the Qiao family. The convoy should have been safe.
But not today.
Qiao Qing, the convoy leader and a trusted lieutenant of the Qiao family, sat in the lead vehicle. He was confident. Perhaps too confident. He didn't notice the eyes watching from the ridgelines—scouts from the Iron Wheel, and spies from the "Guns & Roses" organization.
Back at the Iron Wheel headquarters, the intelligence was flowing in. Xiao Ke stood over the sand table, analyzing the data with Ling Feng, Ye Yun, and Qin Bing.
"The escort is lighter than I expected," Xiao Ke mused, moving a marker across the map. "Two hundred personnel total. Take away the drivers and logistics, and you're looking at maybe a hundred combat effectives. Mostly Warrior General rank. The leader, Qiao Qing, is a Level 8 Valiant General. Tough, but manageable."
Ling Feng laughed, inspecting a knife. "They've gotten lazy. They think their reputation is a shield. A hundred men to guard a fortune? That's not confidence; that's arrogance."
Ye Yun, however, was frowning at the map. Something didn't fit.
"Their security is lax because they don't expect trouble," Ye Yun said slowly. "But look at the route. They're heading for the Thousand Needle Stone Forest. Why? If they were shipping goods to the Southern Province, this is the long way around. It adds days to the trip."
Ye Yun traced the line of the road with a finger. "And look what it borders. The Thousand Needle Stone Forest runs parallel to the Fallen Zone. The Kingdom of Zombies. It's a death trap. Why take a valuable cargo so close to hell?"
Xiao Ke stared at the map, and suddenly, the pieces clicked into place. A chill ran down his spine.
He remembered a secret directive given to him by the Emperor before his exile: Investigate the rumors of trade between human traitors and the zombie hoards.
The thought that struck him was bold, terrifying, and sickeningly plausible.
What if the cargo isn't meant for the Southern Province? What if it's meant for the Fallen Zone?
If the Double Eagle Merchant Alliance was trading with zombies, the cargo wasn't gold or weapons. Zombies had no use for those. Zombies hungered for only one thing.
Humans.
If the sealed containers were packed with living people, it explained everything. To the Qiao family, human lives were cheap—low cost, high volume. That was why the guard was light; if they lost the shipment, it was just a rounding error on a spreadsheet. And in return? They would receive Black Crystals, the high-energy resource abundant in zombie territory.
Xiao Ke realized with a sinking heart that the "valuable cargo" Liu Feifei spoke of was likely worthless in monetary terms, but the moral cost was astronomical.
He looked at his team. He didn't voice his suspicion yet—it was too dark, too heavy—but his resolve hardened into diamond. He wasn't just robbing a rival anymore. He was stopping a crime against humanity.
"It doesn't matter where they're going," Xiao Ke said, his voice steel. "We intercept them tonight at the Thousand Needle Stone Forest. We crack those containers open, and we see the truth for ourselves."
He looked at his lieutenants. "Ling Feng, Ye Yun. You're with me. Muster three hundred elites. We leave within the hour. We need to be in position before they reach the choke point."
"Agreed," they nodded.
Qin Bing stepped forward, anxiety clouding her features. "And me?"
Xiao Ke softened his expression. "You stay. We need a stronghold to come back to. Song Jiongyang is still out there, waiting for a moment of weakness to strike Anping Town. I need you here, guarding our backs. It's the only way I can fight without looking over my shoulder."
Qin Bing hesitated, then nodded. She knew he was right, even if she hated being left behind. "Alright. Just... come back in one piece."
Xiao Ke tightened his gloves. "Count on it."