Chapter 28: Desert Town

Chapter 28: Desert Town

At the edge of the desert lay a tiny settlement with only three or four households. Its residents survived around a single well, eking out a harsh existence.

Ji Bingyan burned the luxury carriage, sold all the horses at a loss, and spent a fortune—more than he’d pay for fine wine—to buy over a dozen large goatskin water bags.

The blind Stone Tuo, who’d convinced Ji Bingyan to sell the horses cheaply, stood motionless, his stony face turned toward Li Chaofeng.

One loved animals; the other loved the meat on their bones. Their personalities clashed like oil and water.

Stone Tuo could sense his animal-loving companions’ disdain for the young man ahead. The beasts themselves seemed to shiver under Li Chaofeng’s predatory gaze, as if they too recognized him as a hunter.

After days together, Stone Tuo felt Li Chaofeng’s aura—less human, more beast. Even the animals seemed to sense his presence as a threat, their instincts screaming danger.

Stone Tuo wondered: How had this beast become a man?

He wanted to ask questions, but he was mute. He wanted to gesture, but he was blind. He longed to hear Li Chaofeng’s voice, but he was deaf. All he had were his instincts to judge this enigma.

Li Chaofeng felt Stone Tuo’s wariness but dismissed it. He didn’t care for emotional bonds with animals, but he didn’t hate those who did. Once a cat lover himself, he now cooked horse meat feasts—but even he had limits. He’d never stoop to “dragon-tiger battles” (eating snakes and cats).

Ah, the hypocrisy!

His self-imposed rules stemmed from the Five Insect Blade Art, which required the blood of Fivefold Beasts to mature. The other four beasts were manageable, but the “Naked Blood” came from humans.

He struggled to justify draining countless lives to nourish a blade that might send him home. So he divided the world into two: humans and beasts.

He’d never kill a human.

But beasts? They were either edible or not. Those who devalued human life were still beasts—just inedible ones.

Even now, Li Chaofeng spread his arms, using the Five Insect Blade Art’s enhanced senses to detect moisture in the air.

The desert’s shape materialized before him—a dry, cracked expanse. Faint humidity lingered, but it was negligible against the endless sands.

As Ji Bingyan and Hu Tiehua debated why selling the horses was better than giving them away, Li Chaofeng suddenly turned toward the town.

A boy of seven or eight stood hesitantly at the edge of the settlement, staring at him.

Even in this desolate place, children existed—gaunt, malnourished, and silent. Few travelers passed through; the town offered nothing but a well. Even sandbandits avoided lingering here, unwilling to trade their nomadic hardships for this parched existence.

Ji Bingyan counted camels, while Li Chaofeng, ever the indifferent tool, faced the desert, gazing at the dunes.

The boy’s expression hinted at curiosity, but fear kept him mute. In places like this, survival meant learning suspicion early.

Li Chaofeng waved gently. The boy flinched, darting into a hut, only to emerge moments later, lips pressed tight, shuffling forward.

When the boy neared, Li Chaofeng softened his posture. “What is it?”

The boy relaxed slightly but kept his head bowed, hesitating. “Grandma says not to stare at the sand. Your eyes will go blind.”

He stole a glance at Li Chaofeng’s face. Not for praise—just to avoid being mocked for ignorance.

Deserts, like snowfields, reflected sunlight. Staring too long truly caused blindness.

Li Chaofeng smiled. “You’re right. Staring at the dunes blinds you. Good catch.”

“Really?!” The boy bounced, thrilled to be right. For a child, being validated by an adult was joy enough.

Bold now, he asked, “Then… is the Desert God real too? Grandma says it’s angry and took our grasslands, leaving us hungry.”

Li Chaofeng paused, gazing at the dunes. “No. There are no gods in this world.”

The boy’s voice dropped. “But… Grandma says the Desert God only spares us when it’s merciful.”

Li Chaofeng fell silent. He knew the truth—the desert had once been grassland. The air’s faint moisture hinted at a lost ecosystem.

Before he could answer, Hu Tiehua strode over, scowling. “You’re scaring the kid while we’re busy?”

The boy bolted, but Li Chaofeng’s voice followed. “Do you want to defeat the Desert God?”

Hu Tiehua froze. The boy turned, eyes wide with terror. The Desert God was invincible—only sparing lives when it chose.

“Kid, I’m just teasing you about your ‘no sand in your eyes’ thing,” Hu Tiehua grumbled.

Li Chaofeng ignored him, watching the boy. He knew the solution to the desert’s curse: the Dragon Kingdom’s Rubik’s Cube—a grass checkerboard pattern. A simple, labor-intensive method to stabilize sand where rainfall sufficed.

But he lacked the patience for such a task. Even if he had it, he wouldn’t waste time on this.

The boy stared at Li Chaofeng’s determined gaze, shivering without understanding. Could the Desert God truly be beaten?

“Waaah!” The boy fled, sobbing. He didn’t know what he’d heard, only that it felt immense and terrifying.

Hu Tiehua glared at Li Chaofeng. “You enjoy scaring kids?”

Li Chaofeng sighed. Rarely did he feel the urge to change the world.

He turned to Hu Tiehua, eyes glinting. “I prefer you after a bath. You don’t smell like a goat then.”

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end