"Maybe they got it but encountered some mishap along the way, so it hasn't been returned to Xiangyou Kingdom yet?" He Lingchuan insisted on probing—or rather, raising reasonable doubts. "Just because the treasure hasn't been used on the battlefield doesn't mean it's still intact in the Panlong Desert."
"No, it's still there," Grandmaster Sun said confidently. "Otherwise, do you think the Panlong Wasteland turned into a desert just by chance?"
He noticed He Chunhua inspecting the broken comb over and over without any intention of handing it over. Just as he was about to reach out and demand it, He Chunhua preempted him, saying, "I'll hold onto it for now."
Sun Fuping understood that He Chunhua didn't fully trust him or his group and decided against pressing further.
He Lingchuan was surprised. "Wait, wasn't it said that the undead of the Great Wind Army drained the vitality of the entire wasteland?"
"If that were true, it's only part of the story. Without the Great Fang Vessel, those souls would have long dissipated into the heavens and earth. Don't forget, if they can incubate thousands of Bewildering Bugs, then containing thousands of vengeful spirits should be no issue."
Bewildering Bugs were intangible and ethereal, similar to souls—or perhaps even fragments of human souls themselves. If the Great Fang Vessel could accommodate such entities, it was likely capable of holding vengeful spirits as well.
Yan Songyu interjected, "The Panlong Ruins aren't far. We'll head there and return quickly. Maybe we can finish before September and avoid facing the wrath of the Panlong Desert."
It was already August 15, leaving only fifteen days until September. That said, the desert's storms didn't operate on the lunar calendar. Their timing could be unpredictable, arriving either early or late.
He Chunhua nodded. "We've been gathering men while searching for the Leopard Fang. We can set out at dawn the day after tomorrow!"
Yan Songyu frowned. "Why not tomorrow? It's already mid-August…"
Before he could finish, Sun Fuping waved him off. "August 16 will suffice. It's already a strain on Lord He to gather manpower, and I need time to prepare the pre-expedition ritual."
Before any military campaign, the Grandmaster performed rituals for divination and blessings.
Ordinarily, even the small local militias of Qiansong County wouldn't receive such ceremonial treatment.
Before dispersing, He Lingchuan approached Yan Songyu again. "Commander Yan, about that loose end…"
Yan Songyu was still preoccupied with the Panlong Desert and absentmindedly replied, "What loose end?"
"The one who leaked the intel about my injury," He Lingchuan reminded. "Give me a name, and I'll stop bothering you."
Despite their collaboration, Yan Songyu hadn't expected this scoundrel to keep digging. His tone turned cold. "My guards say that person has disappeared."
He Lingchuan looked disappointed. "Really can't find him?"
Yan Songyu smirked. "A trivial matter. Focus on the task at hand, Master He."
Uncle Hao passed by just in time to overhear this exchange.
By evening, the Red and White Path sought out He Lingchuan.
"Young Master He, there's trouble!"
He Lingchuan first looked surprised, then thoughtful. "No need to panic. Is Uncle Hao nearby? Get him for me!"
Two days passed in a flash.
Thanks to everyone's concerted efforts, the following twenty-odd hours passed peacefully.
The terror of the Panlong Desert weighed heavily on everyone's mind. Each year brought its share of deadly cautionary tales. Still, He Chunhua managed to assemble a team of 200 by the designated time.
This motley crew wasn't entirely made up of soldiers—many were criminals exiled to the frontier.
The punishment for exile in Yuan Kingdom was lengthy: while other nations required 10–15 years, Yuan mandated 18–25. Those sent to Heishui City were well aware they wouldn't be returning home.
Years of civil war—whether feuding princelings or peasant uprisings—had drained the kingdom's military. Soldiers were in short supply.
In the past decade, Qiansong County had endured multiple foreign wars, depleting its regular forces. As a result, Heishui City had to recruit locally, enlisting exiles and even murderers who were strong enough. They received salaries, avoiding hard labor.
This time, Grandmaster Sun brought a royal pardon.
Anyone who accompanied the expedition to the Panlong Desert would gain immediate freedom upon success, regardless of their past crimes.
They would also receive generous rewards.
Such incentives were bound to attract brave souls. After all, poverty was often worse than death.
The rewards promised by the government were enough for a man to marry, have children, and live comfortably on a few acres of fertile land for the rest of his life.
In short: either die broke or strike it rich.
Given the number of outlaws in the frontier, more than enough recruits came forward, exceeding He Chunhua's expectations.
The leader of this ragtag group was Zeng Feixiong, a deputy commander. His father had been insane for twenty years and suffered from a debilitating condition, devouring medication that cost more than Zeng's salary. Deep in debt, Zeng agreed to lead the mission after He Chunhua promised to clear his debts and provide care for his father until his passing.
In these chaotic times, a peaceful death was often more elusive than wealth.
Thus, Zeng Feixiong joined the expedition.
By the fifth watch, before dawn, the group assembled at Heishui City's northern gate, awaiting the Grandmaster's ritual.
A ritual altar had been set up, and Sun Fuping, having bathed and changed into a bright yellow robe, ascended the platform.
This shade of yellow was reserved for the emperor and the Grandmaster—anyone else caught wearing it would be executed.
He Lingchuan watched with great interest. In this world, invoking the gods wasn't as simple as waving a peachwood sword, scribbling talismans, or shouting some formulaic incantation.
Sun Fuping produced a staff and gently struck the ground. The beast carved on the staff's head raised its face to the sky and let out a resonant roar.
The creature had a wide nose, large mouth, bulging eyes, and whiskers. Its roar, as loud as a bull's bellow, shook the surrounding area.
Curious passersby gathered to watch.
The beast roared three times, each louder than the last. The final roar sounded like muffled thunder, leaving everyone's ears ringing.
In response, dark clouds thickened and churned above, and lightning cracked within their depths.
This phenomenon was known as "Heavenly Resonance."
Within moments, rain began to fall—but only on the soldiers. Onlookers remained dry.
Such precise control was remarkable.
"The beast on the staff head is a Yazi, capable of summoning wind and rain, though it's missing its horns," He Yue murmured to his elder brother. "Why doesn't the Grandmaster use the nation's fortune to call the rain? Wouldn't that be less taxing?"
Though he spoke quietly, Yan Songyu heard him. "He can't afford to risk it—it might disrupt the ritual."
"This isn't the ritual?" He Lingchuan, standing between them, raised an eyebrow and acted as a barrier. "Then what is the Grandmaster doing?"