Chapter Sixty-Two: The Vast Desert

From the vast expanse of yellow sand, a hand suddenly emerged, its five fingers as thin as chopsticks. The hand clawed vainly at the air, grasping nothing but a slippery fistful of emptiness.

Yu Lang sat up from the sandy ground, spat out the grit from his mouth, and gasped for breath. He sensed something hard pressing against his back; reaching behind, he discovered it was the barely-alive Kudoza.

The commotion roused Kudoza, who muttered a few complaints like a child reluctant to rise. Yu Lang, unable to contain himself, burst into laughter. “How have you grown so thin? You don’t even deserve the term skin and bones.”

Kudoza struggled to sit up, snorted coldly, and retorted, “And where have you fared better? You’re just as gaunt, looking like a lanky monkey.”

Both men were utterly spent, their strength drained to the last drop. Not only would an ordinary person prove a threat, even the child from Xidu City that day could have dispatched these two masters of the upper realms with a single stroke. Yu Lang, knowing his own limitations, showed no hostility upon realizing Kudoza had survived; there was room left for negotiation. Likewise, Kudoza refrained from provoking Yu Lang—though he used cold words, he dared not anger the young madman who had carried him for thousands of miles, demolishing countless structures along the way. Deep inside, Kudoza was terrified of him.

Yu Lang licked his pale lips. “How wonderful it would be to have a sip of water.”

“Keep dreaming,” Kudoza replied, attempting to meditate and gather his inner energy, only to find his reserves utterly exhausted.

Yu Lang’s keen eyes spotted a caravan at the far edge of the horizon: dozens of people and a dozen camels laden with goods. He was about to shout when Kudoza covered his mouth.

“What are you doing? Are you afraid because the caravan is full of Tang people, that I’ll join forces with them and have them finish you off? Rest assured—if I am to kill you, it will be after our strength returns and we fight on equal terms. I won’t take advantage of your weakness or let others do it for me.”

Kudoza shook his head. “Don’t be reckless. Get down and look over there. In the sand, a band of desert bandits lies in wait. That caravan is in danger.”

Yu Lang focused his gaze and indeed saw shadows lurking in the distant dunes. He thought to himself, this old fox is still cunning, cautious even at such a moment.

Though their powers had faded, their senses remained sharp. With concentrated attention, every distant sound and movement reached their ears and eyes.

The bandits wore yellow headscarves and wielded curved blades.

“Boss, I see seven or eight sword-wielders among the caravan. They must have hired skilled guards, each at least at the Hundred-Refinement level. If we charge in recklessly, it may not go well. It’s a tough nut—should we give up?” suggested a wiry, clever bandit.

The chief, sporting a pair of thin mustaches, shook his head. “Our water and provisions are nearly gone. If we don’t rob this caravan, we might not survive until the next one comes through. Besides, the lord is pressing us hard. This caravan likely carries the five-colored jade he desires. We have to risk it!”

The bandits spoke in official Tang dialect, but it was unclear whom they referred to as “lord.” The Emperor of Tang would not be addressed with such a peculiar term.

Kudoza explained, “These bandits are probably hired by the ruler of Little Bolu. His cultivation requires large amounts of five-colored jade. Every year, the small kingdoms of the Western Regions offer such jade to Tang as tribute. Their own military is weak, so they entrust the jade to Tang caravans, who deliver it to the local commandery governor, who then takes his cut before passing it to the Emperor. The lord of Little Bolu grew greedy, but dared not send his own soldiers; instead, he hired Tang warriors disguised as bandits to steal the jade.”

“If this happens often, wouldn’t it be hard to conceal? This area should fall under An Sishun, the Tang governor of the northern frontier. Would he ignore such things?”

Kudoza smirked. “You’re still young and inexperienced. The ruler of Little Bolu gave An Sishun ten times the usual benefits. An Sishun is no saint; he exploits this situation to extort Little Bolu repeatedly.”

As the National Preceptor of Tibet, Kudoza’s intelligence network was extensive—such secrets could hardly escape him.

Yu Lang found it ironic. “You seem to know Tang affairs better than our own Emperor.”

Kudoza’s expression was calm. “It’s not that Tibet’s intelligence surpasses your Emperor’s; rather, the Emperor is surrounded by sycophants who block his ears and cloud his eyes. He neither sees nor hears the truth. Even our Tibetan King only knows what I wish him to know.”

“Masterful tactics, Preceptor,” Yu Lang said, giving Kudoza a thumbs-up.

“You, young man, will enter the heart of the Tang court one day. Let me give you some advice. First: never rely on the Emperor’s supposed wisdom and divinity—even if he was wise once, living amid flattery and adulation will dull anyone’s judgment. Second: never mistake the Emperor for a fool, especially your Tang Emperor Xuanzong. Sometimes, when he wakes up, it shakes heaven and earth.”

Yu Lang recalled something amusing. “If you became Tang’s National Preceptor, I wonder if you could outwit the treacherous Chancellor Li Linfu. With you as an adversary, perhaps he wouldn’t dominate the court so easily.”

Kudoza dismissed the thought. “In terms of cultivation, I could crush that old fox with a single blow. But when it comes to political scheming, who could match him? They say a single conversation with him can ruin your appetite for three days.”

Yu Lang laughed silently.

Suddenly, Kudoza’s eyes shifted and he ducked down again. “Enough talk—the bandits are making their move.”

The bandit chief raised his right hand, signaling the attack. All fifty-three bandits, clad in yellow, crouched low and rushed toward the caravan.

The caravan indeed had skilled guards. When the bandits were still hundreds of paces away, someone shouted “Enemy attack!” The weak hid behind camels, while the guards and strong men drew their weapons and prepared for battle.

The two groups clashed, fighting in a chaotic melee. The bandits had numbers, but the caravan guards were highly trained. For a while, the struggle was evenly matched.

To Yu Lang and Kudoza, such a skirmish was as trivial as watching ants fight. Yet, frustratingly, they were now weaker than ants themselves. Yu Lang wished to join the fray and punish the bandits, but he lacked the strength.

The bandit chief let out a roar, knocked down two guards in succession, displaying his peak Hundred-Refinement prowess, and charged toward the goods atop the camels.

A graceful long sword, however, was suddenly pressed against the chief’s neck.

Yu Lang felt his throat go dry, unable to utter a word.

Kudoza frowned. “An old acquaintance?”

Yu Lang finally managed to whisper the name: “Ning Xue.”