Chapter 109: The Wasteland Cargo Fleet – 1

After lunch, Shed Master Wuyou personally accompanied Yang Zicang as they strolled through the trading area—a partitioned large square that was also the place where he had built his fortune.
Seeing that Shed Master Wuyou was personally accompanying the Jiazi Space member to a sightseeing tour, while they themselves were only following behind—the handful of creators who had trekked thousands of miles here to auction off an engine felt a twinge of displeasure.
“It’s just a well. No matter how good the water is, isn’t it enough as long as it’s drinkable?”
One person deliberately lagged behind a few steps and muttered softly to a companion nearby.
“You misunderstand, Brother Zhang.”
Someone ahead heard his words and stepped back two paces: “Shed Master Wuyou values his other abilities.”
“What abilities? Can he fly to the sky?”
“Ha, I told you were only focused on rummaging through material stalls. You didn’t know such a big thing happened outside yesterday. Those crocodiles were jumping out like fish, it was terrifying.”
“You mean that incident? Didn’t the guard team clear them all up?”
Another person added: “At first, it seemed someone else helped too, rumored to be a Quadrilateral True Shape Realm master. One person alone suppressed over a hundred crocodile monsters that could burrow into the ground.”
The person who stepped back smirked: “He didn’t say it wrong. Many monsters were indeed taken care of by that man, and that man is none other than the one beside the shed master.”
“What!”
The few beside him nearly gasped in surprise.
This person pushed up his glasses: “Now you know why so many shed masters are cozying up to him? You think those shed masters of the medium shed areas are rushing to place orders just for mineral water to shower with?”
“I was just thinking that, damn it.”
“But there must be some who are showering for real—you’ve got to admit that.”
“Go to hell.”
Feeling the gazes from behind, Yang Zicang had a thorny sensation as if needles were pricking his back.
Shed Master Wuyou said, “Brother Yang, look, this is one of our specialty products—soap. It may seem ordinary, but the townsfolk really can’t do without it, and it sells even better in the Lost Frequency Lands.”
The simple packaging of each bar of soap showed that to exchange for one would take half a day’s time token.
These were goods brought into the Wuyou Goods Market from Pivot Town.
“Brother, the underground monsters here have been appearing for almost a year now, but it’s really hard to completely deal with them all. If you hadn’t stepped in this time, I’d still be feeling a bit scared.”
He picked up a bag of chips wrapped in white paper packaging, tore it open, and handed it to Yang Zicang to sniff.
“Smells good, right? And with these packaged waters sitting in the warehouse, if those monsters had wrecked them, our losses would be unimaginable. So, I’d like to hire you to clear out the underground monsters.”
Yang Zicang sensed the sincerity in the shed master’s eyes.
Psychic-type and Quadrangle—either one alone would be a top-tier existence in this world, let alone the two combined.
Yang Zicang suddenly realized that, without even noticing, he had become a true expert.
Though it felt like only a few days had passed, the actual experiences spanned thousands of years.
He wondered, what was wrong with this world?
Suddenly, a fuzzy thought struck him: he was but an ordinary mortal—how did he end up here? It all felt like a dream.
Seeing Wuyou still staring at him, and realizing he had just spaced out, Yang Zicang turned to face him and asked, “Who was it that attacked me just now?”
“What?”
“Shed Master Wuyou, someone just affected my emotions. Do you know who it was?”
A strange glint flickered in Wuyou’s eyes. He raised his hand to those around him and said, “We’re heading back.”
“Thank you for telling me that.”
With a stern expression of gratitude, Wuyou quickly turned and led the group away.
Yang Zicang cast a puzzled glance at his retreating back. A woman from the entourage stepped forward and apologized, “Forgive me, Mr. Jiazi. I’m sorry for what happened to you.”
It seemed this involved Shed Master Wuyou’s secret, so Yang Zicang refrained from pressing further. His earlier question had been nothing more than an impulse.
The remaining people finally seized the chance to crowd around him, reintroducing themselves incessantly.
Since he had single-handedly taken out so many crocodile monsters, they assumed Yang Zicang was simply an unlucky martial talent from a fallen high-tier team.
“Thank you, everyone.” Yang Zicang felt a mix of amusement and exasperation.
He had taken a pseudonym precisely to avoid trouble, but now he was becoming even more famous instead.
After collecting over thirty more Lost Will Models, he bumped into Xu Xiuchuan, who looked visibly anxious on the way back.
“Zicla—er, Jiazi! Something wrong, something’s wrong!”
“What’s the matter?”
Yang Zicang paused, noticing the man clutching large bags of food with a dazed look on his face.
Xu Xiuchuan glanced around, spotted a crowd nearby, then summoned his Model Ring from his chest, launching a jagged beam toward him.
[Ning Yang, the encampment chief, is in danger.]
[What danger?]
{Hey, you remember the cargo fleet that came to our encampment two days ago? The one that gave us the trial samples—Zhao Qi. They’re from the Horse Bandit Cargo Fleet.}
Zuo Feixian also came bounding over from a distance with nimble steps.
“Old pal, heard what happened to Ning Yang?”
Yang Zicang nodded, then turned to the group of craftsmen picking through items at roadside stalls behind him. “Everyone, I’m heading back first. We’ll catch up another time.”
“Right, right. Brother, you’ve always been solid. Come visit us at the Youyuan Encampment sometime. I’m leaving this afternoon, haha.”
Amid such farewells, Yang Zicang and the other two returned to their room. On the way, Xu Xiuchuan had already given him a rough overview of the situation with the Horse Bandit Cargo Fleet.
They were a loose organization, initially formed among a few cargo fleets roaming the Out-of-Band Zones, later developing into a mutual-aid group.
So far, that sounds normal enough. But where there are people, there are selfish desires, conspiracies, and internal strife.
Some who sniffed out the benefits of such an organization began using their pattern-granted abilities to seize power, collect protection fees, and form cliques, eventually turning it into a gray organization in the Out-of-Band Zones. Nowadays, they engage in theft, robbery, human trafficking, and even genocidal massacres of certain encampments to plunder resources.
This time, Ning Yang has run into them.
“For small settlements like ours, this is no different from a flock of sheep being targeted by a pack of wolves.”
Zuo Feixian remarked as he closed the door behind them.
“What’s all this talk about sheep and wolves?”
Luo Bin, who had been lying in bed reading a novel with his legs crossed, sat up.
“The shantytown owner of the place I stayed at for a few days was lured out and then robbed.”
“Oh, they didn’t kill him, did they?”
Xu Xiuchuan shook his head. “But it won’t be long now. Normally, if a group stays hidden, no one notices them. But this time, with the Wasteland Convoy gathering together, they’re definitely targeting some nearby settlement. Those locusts have caught a whiff of something good.”
Luo Bin cracked open a nut shell, sucked out the kernel, and smacked his lips as he spoke,
“This Wasteland Convoy seems to have a nasty reputation. No one’s stepped up to deal with them?”
Both men shook their heads like rattling drums.
Zuo Feixian said, “Normally, you can’t tell who’s part of the Wasteland Convoy. Most of the time, they run honest businesses.”
“And going after them is a thankless task—no one knows where they are. As for those who organize a cleanup, they have their own shantytowns, right? If they don’t wipe them out completely, they’ll just invite trouble, and getting hit by a counterattack would wipe out their place.”
“The Wasteland Convoy’s targets are generally small to medium settlements; even medium-sized ones are rare. The major shantytowns are focused on groups with even worse reputations, so they turn a blind eye to these guys—live and let live.”
“Got it.”
Yang Zicang understood. Essentially, the targets of the wilderness freight convoys were small and medium-sized shelter leaders like Ning Yang. These shelters lacked the strength to eliminate them, while the large shelters could deal with them but saw no need—it would only drive a steady stream of people from smaller shelters to seek protection from them instead.
Zuo Feixian and Xu Xiuchuan glanced sharply at Yang Zicang, then looked away, pretending not to have done so.
Yang Zicang smiled. “What, got an idea?”
Xu Xiuchuan hesitated to speak, but Zuo Feixian immediately grinned widely. “Heh, Boss Jia, before yesterday, I wouldn’t have even considered it, but now? I’m full of confidence. If you take action, it’ll be the end of those bastards.”
Luo Bin shifted his butt to the edge of the bed and feigned surprise. “Oh? You two trust him that much?”
“Of course.”
Xu Xiuchuan puffed out his chest. Ever since he saw Yang Zicang mow down those crocodile monsters like they were nothing, he had already been in awe.
As far as he knew, no one else could match the strength Yang Zicang had shown so far—except for that one monster from before.
After that day, he had already contacted several drinking buddies via the models, asking roughly about the Moon Shadow Summon Bug, and only then did he realize what it truly meant.
Zuo Feixian looked at Yang Zicang, his tone light but his words filled with murderous intent as he advised,
“Brother Jia, listen—I know you guys took the blame from that bastard Ning Yang here—but he’s nothing but a blind fool who can’t recognize a gem. What we desperately need now is a large stock of models; these wasteland convoy folks gathering here, it’s handing us a perfect opportunity.”
Yang Zicang’s eyelids drooped halfway down, his mind weighing the feasibility of the idea.
“Right next to where they’ve gathered, there’s a tiny settlement that only sprang up last year. Brother Yang—either tonight or by tomorrow at the latest, that settlement will likely be wiped off the map.”
“God damn it! These butchers.” Luo Bin slapped his own thigh hard.