Chapter 118: Transaction on the Dark Plains -2

News of the Deserted Wastrel Freight Team’s annihilation rippled through the settlement areas, this vague rumor making the business deals of Yang Zicang’s new team flow much more smoothly.
After all, this team belonged to the ferocious guy who could wipe out an entire deserted wastrel freight team with just a few people.
Over the two days, Yang Zicang had visited three small shelter areas, bringing daily necessities to these small shelters at reasonable prices, which could even be exchanged for common minerals or timber resources.
Xu Xiuchuan and the others marveled at the unexpectedly high sales volume, wondering whether the locals truly needed these supplies or were offering “enthusiastic purchases” under some invisible pressure.
At this moment, dozens of people from this small shelter area gathered at the entrance, reluctantly waving goodbye to the Da Jia Fang supply convoy.
“Come earlier next time,” one person said with a tearful tone tinged with fear.
“Thanks for remembering us, haha—we’ll be back.”
“Ah… you really are coming back?”
The reputation of the Da Jia Fang supply convoy began to spread across this land.
[Your fame has been born, in the land of lost frequencies.]
A hazy image of Hub Town emerged.
It seemed as if a merciless gaze fell on their group in this area.
After a long moment, it faintly pulled away.
The third week’s fame was born, and Yang Zicang felt the undisguised stare.
This gaze lasted longer than in the previous two weeks—last week, his personal fame value had reached 75 points, while the entire convoy had attained 190 points.
That was because Qin Meng had joined the convoy at the end.
A line of data jerked to life.
{It’s going to be a new week again—how are things?}
“Chaser Silver? Oh, just right, I’ve just had this week’s fame born—those little journalists didn’t leak footage of my dining party, did they?”
{What gathering? Uh, I’ve got some news. An A-level intersecting space has fallen into your area. It contains mental attacks and might have related objects. You might want to keep an eye out. If you can recover an eighty-year-old weapon from it, there are several thousand cycles of time shards on offer here.}
Zhuyin passed on the group’s request in detail to Yang Zicang, then asked with a tone of suppressed annoyance, “And that matter last time?”
“I should be asking you that. Found out that guy’s identity yet?”
{Of course, Wuyou would tell me anything about him anytime, but look at my stature—do I need to go asking around just for that? That said, if that troublemaker cursed with bad luck hadn’t interfered… what a total jerk.}
“He’s not cursed with bad luck, just hitting a rough patch.”
Yang Zicang was about to end the connection when he remembered a favor he had asked for earlier, and inquired, “Oh, by the way, did you get those wellhead materials ready for me?”
At that, Zhuyin’s face darkened, and he gave a cold, grunting “Mm.”
{Don’t worry. With so many cities at my disposal, getting just a few materials is easy.}
[I nearly succumbed to his authority.]
The corner of Yang Zicang’s mouth twitched.
After setting up the camp, Yang Zicang contacted a few people still at the base, asking them to see if they had any leads on a twilight valley retreat nestled amidst the mountain ranges.
Not long after, another hair-thin crease of light shot over.
{Mr. Zicang, you’ve been keeping well, hehehe.}
Spotting the other person, Yang Zicang smiled and cupped his fists in greeting:
“Shed Master Wuyou, a pleasure. My apologies for last time—I had to leave without saying goodbye due to an urgent matter that suddenly arose.”
{No worries, no worries. I simply had no time to answer your Mental Link call back then. Haha, oh yes, I reached out to warn you—someone is buying information about you and has issued a bounty, vowing to have you killed.}
Shed Master Wuyou lowered his voice with concern and said:
{Be careful of a scheme targeting you. Despite most of the models on the Freqless Land being scrap, there are also some individuals with special abilities who come here deliberately.}
“Oh?” The young man raised an eyebrow and said to the fat-headed, big-eared Shed Master Wuyou through the Mental Link, “May I ask if you know who issued it?”
{There’s a ninety percent chance it’s the King of Wasteland Cars. The sender claimed to be the Desert Ancestor.}
“Ha, I hadn’t even planned on picking a fight with that guy yet, and he comes knocking on my door himself.”
Shed Master Wuyou smiled with an expression of “I knew it.” YangZicang did not deny his feud with the King of Wasteland Cars.
That night, when he heard that the Wasteland Carriage had been ambushed and was being wiped out, he questioned many people. Their descriptions of the attacker closely matched this guy sitting right there as his guest, and the estimated number roughly lined up too.
By the time he knocked on the door, he found a note left inside—his guest had already left long ago.
Wuyou continued:
{After you took out a few cargo captains of the Wasteland Freight Convoy, more and more people have set their sights on his vehicle over these past couple of days. A few of my half-baked advisors speculate he might use his wasteland vehicle as bait to deal with you.}
“What exactly is that wasteland vehicle? Why would people not just take it outright, but rather dare to go up against someone who can wipe out entire freight convoys?”
{It’s said that vehicle holds a small pocket dimension. Space-type mod-crafting is extremely valuable, you should know that. Everyone wants to get their hands on it peacefully.}
“Oh, I see.”
{Brother Yang, only few people know that you destroyed the deserted cart caravan now. The deserted cart owner’s wanted bounty on you is probably just buying himself time to escape.}
“I have no interest in him, but can you tell me more about what you know of his cart?”
{Hmm… As for that mold tool transformed from an evil nightmare, it’s a bronze cart that can walk on land on its own.}
“Bronze?”
The chubby shed owner pondered:
“It’s said to have been obtained from a museum. Powered by it, it could tow many small cargo carts behind—that was the ability of the Astral Freight Convoy when it first started as itinerant merchants. Moreover, the bronze horses and their riders on the chariot could also attack people, essentially serving as obedient humanoid guards. Later, people discovered that it concealed a small space inside, but well… it wasn’t very auspicious, hehe, seems it was a cemetery or something.”
Yang Zicang wore a contemplative expression.
Upon hearing the word “cemetery,” my curiosity about the desert vehicle diminished. While it sounded cool, the thought of sticking with it day in and day out sent chills down my spine, and besides, I already had my Demon Nightmare subway.
“Thank you for the info, Shed Master Wuyou. Have any news of an A-level chaotic area breaking into this place recently?”
{The chaotic curtainscapes are abundant, but they’re scattered across the land, and spotting them is all about luck. As for the A-Level chaotic zone you mentioned, Brother Jiazi, I don’t know. If you visit the Solotenent Inn, you could ask around together.}
After getting the source clear, Yang Zicang let out a scornful laugh.
The Wasteland Lord intends to buy my intelligence; I might as well cash in on the timeline myself.
……
The Lord of the Desert Vehicle was leaving a medium-sized shed zone.
The shed master of this medium shed zone was an old acquaintance of his, but still, nowadays he dared not stay too long in one place. After trading for some water, he headed back to his ancient bronze wagon.
“Still short of 3,000 to reach a 10,000 timeline. Goddamn, I shouldn’t have used those idiots to store timelines.”
In a dim space like a cavern, the wastrel lord sat in the chief seat, looking at the dozen or so people ahead—feeling rather helpless inside. Even killing every one of them wouldn’t yield 3,000 timelines.
If he were in the city, these defeated stragglers would have all been annihilated by the Lord of the Desert Vehicle by now.
Among the crowd, a young man with slightly yellowish hair tips stepped forward and said:
“Boss, I’ve spread the word. Anyone with ambition will probably try to test the Jiazi Interval to get the Wasteland Chariot.”
“Just trying, that’s not bad either. Pay attention lately—if you find any missing frequencies or phantoms popping up, tell me immediately. By the way, what’s your name again?”
“Li Shangxiang.”
He vaguely remembered seeing this kid a few times. Escaping alive from that massacre was its own knack for sniffing the wind.
The Wasteland Lord’s deep gaze swept over the young man’s face several times, finally saying, “From now on, you’ll take charge of these people.”
A stir rippled through the crowd.
“Huh, me?” Li Shangxiang looked incredulous. “Isn’t there still that guy? I’m totally unqualified, boss.”
“It’s fine. He’s justa name on our Wasteland Chariot’s roster. Shangxiang, if I say you’re good enough, you’re good enough. Everyone, from now on follow Captain Li and work hard—I believe he can bring you all back from danger.”
“Yes.” A dozen pairs of eyes rested on the young man.
Li Shangxiang turned and glanced back at them, his gaze briefly lingering on the faintly visible graves along the edge of the space.
The Wasteland Lord rubbed his forehead in frustration.
……
At midnight, Yang Zicang and Luo Bin appeared before a lone, towering building carved like an old hotel at the base of an orphan mountain.
Inside, lights blazed and ruckus echoed for hundreds of meters.
“You go.” Yang Zicang nudged the portly man beside him with his elbow.
“You told me to sell, don’t come blaming me when it’s done.”
“Cut the crap, just go.”
Luo Bin tugged at his hat and headed over.
By the fence gate, a few men with fierce eyes stood guard around a bonfire.
Spotting Luo Bin approaching, one man left behind as a lookout, these guys got up, and one of them, holding an iron token, said, “One hundred years. If you return the token within ten days, we’ll give you back ninety.”
Luo Bin didn’t waste a word and handed over a hundred and one years.
“The extra is for a drink with you folks.”
“Boy, thanks, thanks!” The man’s face lit up with a grin, nodding and bowing as he gave the numerically numbered iron token to Luo Bin.
He glanced at the plaque above the entrance: Only-Visit Inn.
The room was thick with smoke; dice-throwing and card games crowded the tables. Though it was Luo Bin’s first time, he moved through with practiced ease past several tables, straight to a slightly quieter corner that still had its fair share of people.
On the walls there, wooden plaques with inscriptions hung.
“Sir, let me see the token.”
Luo Bin shook the iron token at a barman figure: “Did someone here buy info about the jia interval yesterday?”
“You’ve got it. Depending on how complete and rare the intel is, we’ll set the price.”
“I have all the scoop on this guy. You want is, but he sets the pay.”
“Oh?”
The barman studied Luo Bin, noting the deliberately conjured appearance of a man in his fifties, aware the other was hiding his identity.
“My employer only wants information about his abilities. I’ll tell you first that my ability is to verify the authenticity of information, so don’t bother trying to deceive me. As for the price, it’s five hundred years of extra lifespan.”
“Five hundred years, huh, the price is really quite high.”