Chapter 26: Farce

At the foot of the southern slope, slaughter was spreading, and a band of brigands had set their sights on this place. Among them, one figure stood out—he was draped in a black robe, carrying a slender sword, and wore a mask the color of desert sand, as if formed from shifting grains of earth. Anyone who came near him soon found a crimson line blooming across their throat.

This was Li San, the Swift Sword, a top-tier second-rate expert, famed for once clashing with a first-rate master and leaving unscathed. His swordsmanship was so sharp and swift that most never saw how he struck before they were sent to their deaths.

“The target is just ahead,” he murmured.

Paying no heed to the henchmen in his way, Li San made his way swiftly toward Jiang Chen’s quarters.

The Sands Bandits were a loose alliance, their members strangers to each other, communicating only through secret channels. When an operation was required, it was usually the initiator who set the terms and called for volunteers.

This time, there were truly only three real Sands Bandits; the rest were riffraff and cannon fodder drawn together by various means. Such was the usual method of the Sands Bandits.

Li San soon appeared before Jiang Chen.

“Jiang Wang, chief of the River-Sweeping Brigands, soon to be the fourth leader, already a second-rate cultivator at such a young age—impressive, though not enough. Someone’s paid dearly for your life…”

Mask on, sword in hand, Li San looked at Jiang Chen, a chill flashing in his eyes.

He closed in with a swish, hand gripping his sword hilt. He had absolute confidence in his swordplay; no matter how strong Jiang Chen was or that he had guards like Skinny Monkey at his side, it mattered not—within seven steps, no one could outpace his blade.

But as he steadied his stance, ready to strike, his eyes met Jiang Chen’s. A sinister, demonic crimson was reflected in his gaze.

“I…”

His mind grew hazy, vision went black, as if some unseen force barred him from drawing his sword. He remained rooted to the spot, statuesque.

Skinny Monkey stared, momentarily stunned. He had been prepared to shield Jiang Chen from the blade. Only Rat Heaven’s Pride seemed to notice what had happened, tilting his head curiously.

At that moment, Jiang Chen finally moved.

“Let’s go. This farce ends here.”

He never once regarded Li San as a threat. Jiang Chen strode down the mountain, passing Li San. As they brushed shoulders, Li San’s rigid body collapsed to the ground—dead, slain by Jiang Chen’s deadly gaze.

Compared to when he had first reincarnated, Jiang Chen’s soul had grown, though its essence was unchanged. Now, even a second-rate martial artist couldn’t withstand a glance from him.

Trailing behind, Skinny Monkey, Wang Yuan, and Stone looked at Jiang Chen with deepening awe as they passed Li San’s lifeless body.

“Truly demonic—no, godlike means,” Wang Yuan murmured, banishing all stray ambitions. He now knew he had wagered on the right man.

Reaching the foot of the southern slope, Jiang Chen stopped, surveying the marauding bandits.

“It’s your turn now,” he said, glancing down at Rat Heaven’s Pride by his feet.

At Jiang Chen’s words, Rat Heaven’s Pride cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and let out a shrill screech.

With that cry echoing through the night, shadows burst forth from the dark corners of Golden Sands Valley—red-eyed rats darting at the bandits in a frenzy.

“What are these creatures…?”

“Rats! Enormous rats…!”

Screams erupted. With Rat Heaven’s Pride leading them, the tide turned instantly in Golden Sands Valley.

Jiang Chen had appeared to do nothing after learning the Third Boss was making his move. In truth, he had been preparing all along, relying not on people but on rats. Compared to the fickleness of men, rats were far more dependable.

As time passed, Rat Heaven’s Pride’s potential as a rat king began to show. Beyond his ability to grow in size, he could command rat swarms, and under Jiang Chen’s orders, he had long since hidden a carefully bred colony in the valley’s shadows, waiting for the enemy to fall into their trap.

The Third Boss and Qian Wen believed their plan flawless, never realizing they had already walked into Jiang Chen’s snare.

“Skinny Monkey, go with Rat Heaven’s Pride to the mining camp. Clean out anyone who needs to be dealt with,” Jiang Chen commanded, voice low.

Skinny Monkey bowed in assent. He understood Jiang Chen’s meaning. Many who had come with them had joined the mine guards to tighten Jiang Chen’s control, but over time some had been corrupted by greed and pleasure, their loyalties wavering. Such men would have to be purged.

“Wang Yuan, Stone, you two go calm the miners. We still need them at Golden Sands. And likewise, clear out whoever must be cleared.”

As Skinny Monkey departed, Jiang Chen gave his next orders. Wang Yuan and Stone bowed and hurried off with their men, leaving Jiang Chen alone as he made his way toward the western side of the valley, where a hidden cave lay—Qian Wen’s secret stash for gold dust.

Meanwhile, inside that cave, Qian Wen followed close behind a man in black, with six bandits trailing after, each carrying a chest. Unlike the rabble outside, these six were far more disciplined.

But just as they were about to leave the cave, rats burst from the shadows, ferociously attacking.

“What’s with these rats?” barked the masked man, smashing one with his fist. His confidence faltered, and Qian Wen, too, grew uneasy.

“Third Boss…” Qian Wen instinctively turned to the masked man after swatting away a fat rat.

At these words, the Third Boss’s gaze turned savage.

“There is no Third Boss here—only Ironsoul of the Sands Bandits,” came the deep, burly voice of the man in black.

Qian Wen blinked in surprise.

“Yes, yes, my mistake, Lord Ironsoul. These rats are not normal. I suspect Jiang Wang is behind this.”

Quick-witted, Qian Wen didn’t believe the rats’ madness was happenstance, immediately suspecting Jiang Chen, especially since Jiang Chen had once ordered people to catch rats.

At this, Ironsoul—or rather, Zhao Meng, the Third Boss—showed a subtle change of expression. If this was truly Jiang Chen’s doing, then his methods were truly extraordinary.

“No matter who’s behind it, let’s cut our way out first.”

With a fierce shout, Zhao Meng charged out of the cave, his fists forceful and unyielding—no rat could withstand a single blow from him. Yet the others lacked his strength.

These rats had been refined with blood essence, their strength at its peak. A single rat was no threat, but in a swarm, even an average martial artist would struggle to survive.

As time passed, fewer and fewer followers remained at Zhao Meng’s side. The fallen were instantly swarmed and devoured, leaving not a trace, and the short stretch of cave seemed to stretch into infinity, endless and nightmarish.