“Old Liu, do you think it’s fair that while the other brothers are inside eating meat and drinking wine, you and I have to stand guard out here?”
“If you ask me, Li Six-Fingers is just making a fuss over nothing. Who in their right mind would dare come to the Tian Nan Mountain Range looking for death?”
The middle-aged man frowned slightly, nervously scanning the surroundings. After confirming there was no third person around, he scolded:
“Are you looking to get yourself killed? How dare you call the Sixth Leader by his name! If he hears you, he’ll rip your tongue out.”
The young man waved off the middle-aged man’s warning nonchalantly and said:
“It’s just us here. The others are probably having a blast inside already.”
“Damn, you have to admit, our leader knows how to have fun. The women he brought up the mountain this time are all so fresh and tender. Especially the one leading them, that tiny waist, those hips… just a squeeze and they’d drip water.”
The young man closed his eyes, a look of intoxication on his face, his fingers pinching the air as if imagining the sensation.
This lewd display immediately drew the middle-aged man’s disdain, but thinking of that ripe, peach-like beauty, he couldn’t help but feel a ripple in his heart.
“Stop daydreaming, kid. Only the Sixteen Kings have the right to enjoy such beauties. We should just focus on our guard duty. Maybe if one of the leaders is in a good mood, they’ll reward us with a woman to play with.”
After a pause, the middle-aged man continued to reassure:
“Don’t be so impatient. The Fourth Leader said this banquet will last three days. Tomorrow, it won’t be our turn to stand guard, and we can go inside to drink and eat our fill.”
Their conversation indeed went unheard by others, their words scattered by the wind.
On the other side, a breeze blew past, and an image inexplicably appeared in Ye Shuangluo’s mind.
Two men standing guard, talking about a three-day banquet, beautiful women…
After a while, he processed this information, gaining some clarity in his heart.
The wind was his ally, comforting him in times of distress and helping him to the best of its ability.
If the wind in the zombie world was like a gentle sister, soothing his wounds, then the wind in this world was like a comrade-in-arms, ready to charge into battle and offer strategic advice.
Coupled with his naturally high perception attribute, he could receive things others couldn’t see or hear.
[Your skill Wind Affinity has leveled up, skill effects enhanced]
[Current effects: Wind Element Resistance +25 (+10), Health Points regenerate 4 (+2) per second]
With the skill upgrade, he could feel a significant increase in the wind elements he could control.
He could vaguely sense the flow and direction of the wind.
Feeling the wind’s movement in the air, a thought struck him. Although he couldn’t control a gale, he could sense the wind’s direction.
In other words, if he found the right moment to scatter the powder, the wind would naturally carry it into the Tian Nan Mountain Range.
This idea was crazy, but he wanted to try it, even if it failed.
Ye Shuangluo called up his skill panel, looking at the Legendary passive “Master of Weapons” that occupied an entire page. Since obtaining it, he hadn’t truly tested its power.
If the plan to poison the bandits failed, he would have to resort to guerrilla tactics to slowly gather a thousand men.
…
The next evening.
Ye Shuangluo sat in the inn room, looking out the window into the distance.
A gentle breeze blew, as if reminding him it was time to act.
Descending the stairs, he saw Lin Xingchen in the inn’s backyard, talking to a pair of twins. He glanced at them indifferently, roughly guessing what the twins were discussing.
Mounting the horse Lin Xingchen had brought, he rode straight towards the Tian Nan Mountain Range.
Perhaps because no one had dared enter the Tian Nan Mountain Range for a long time, he encountered no obstacles and even climbed to the top of a mountain.
Standing at the peak, his gaze coldly fixed on the mountain at the center of the range, the best location.
His keen eyesight allowed him to see clearly the fortress at the mountain’s summit, where a lively celebration was underway.
No, it was more like a small town, with about twenty to thirty thousand bandits inside.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled out ten sacks of powder from his space backpack, standing silently, waiting for the right moment.
Rustle.
The sound of wind blowing through the leaves reached his ears.
The wind had picked up.
Now was the time. Ye Shuangluo scattered two sacks of powder into the air.
The powder drifted with the wind, quickly reaching the fortress where the banquet was held.
The bandits, unaware of the impending danger, continued to eat, drink, and discuss their next raids, “robbing the rich to help the poor.”
After all, they needed to rob others to alleviate their own poverty, so it made sense to take money and women from the rich to support themselves.
As the bandits fantasized about a bright future, some began to feel their bodies growing heavier.
Clang.
A wine jug fell to the ground.
Thud.
A person collapsed.
As the first person fell, others followed like bowling pins, one after another.
Those still conscious sensed something was wrong. Several leaders tried to channel their inner strength, only to find it sluggish.
They were horrified. They had been poisoned.
A man with a white tiger tattoo on his chest slammed the table and shouted at a bald man to his left:
“Hu Laosi! You prepared the food and women this time. Are you trying to kill me?”
The bald man retorted angrily:
“Shut your damn mouth, Lin Laowu! I’m poisoned too.”
“Enough!”
A one-eyed man at the head of the table, presumably the leader, halted their argument, his face dark.
“How many years has it been since anyone dared provoke us? It seems the world has forgotten the fearsome reputation of the Sixteen Kings.”
“A bunch of bandits, claiming a fearsome reputation? More like infamous scoundrels.”
Hearing this mocking voice, the sixteen bandit leaders turned to its source, curious to see who dared speak so boldly.
A young man in strange attire, holding a black long blade, was walking towards them.
As he reached the center, the young man glanced at each of the Sixteen Kings, then tilted his head and suddenly smiled:
“So, you are the Sixteen Kings? No three heads and six arms, no blue faces and fangs.”
The bandit leaders glared at the young man with hatred. They had just been poisoned, and now this young man appeared.
It was obvious to anyone that he was the one who poisoned them.
But they couldn’t fathom how he did it. They had thoroughly checked the water and food, finding no issues.
As they pondered where things went wrong, Ye Shuangluo’s voice echoed through the fortress:
“No wonder they call you Li Six-Fingers. You really do have six fingers.”
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