In the thirteenth year of the Tianbao era: I became Yang Guozhong's eldest son.

Upon hearing this, the surrounding natives erupted in a frenzied cheer.

Bone-Turned, brandishing his heavy cleaver, cleaved a nearby wooden stake, as thick as a bowl, in two with a single stroke, and defiantly looked at the Tang people's camp.

Pei Zhao's eyes instantly became incredibly sharp, like a cheetah eyeing its prey.

"My lord, I request permission to fight." Pei Zhao stepped forward, his voice low but filled with intense killing intent.

Yang Xuan looked at Pei Zhao, then glanced at the bony protrusion that resembled a bear, and a cold smile curved his lips.

Pei Zhao.

"Your subordinate is here!"

"Back in Chang'an, I taught you that you should use your fists to deal with thugs and the law to deal with bureaucrats." Yang Xuan stood up, his gaze sweeping over the noisy natives. "But here, in this lawless wilderness, the only language they can understand is blood."

Yang Xuan patted Pei Zhao on the shoulder, his tone carrying a chilling undertone.

"Don't hold back, beat him into submission. I want them to know that the swords of the Tang Dynasty are harder than the stones in their mountains."

"Here you go!"

Pei Zhao suddenly ripped off his leather armor, leaving him in only a thin linen jacket. He picked up his well-forged sword and strode into the open space beside the campfire.

When the locals saw a Tang soldier, whose physique was clearly inferior to that of the burly, bony man and who wasn't even wearing armor, step out, they let out a scornful snort.

Bone-Protruding spat contemptuously on the ground and roared in broken Mandarin, "You Tang dog, with your delicate skin, I'll chop you up with one stroke!"

Pei Zhao didn't speak; he just stood there quietly, gripping the hilt of his sword with both hands, the tip pointing diagonally at the ground.

His entire demeanor underwent a dramatic transformation at that moment.

He was no longer the taciturn guard, but had returned to being the ruthless soldier who had fought his way through mountains of corpses and seas of blood on the Hexi border, killing without hesitation.

"kill!"

With a wild roar, Gu Tu gripped the heavy bone-chopping sword in both hands and, using the momentum of his charge, brought it down with the force of splitting a mountain, fiercely striking down towards Pei Zhao's head.

This strike was powerful and heavy, accompanied by a whistling sound. If it landed squarely, it would not only cleave a person in two, but even a cow would be split in two.

Lei Laohu was so frightened that he closed his eyes.

However, just as the broadsword was about to fall, Pei Zhao moved.

Instead of taking the hit head-on, he took a half-step to the left in a very peculiar way at the critical moment.

"boom!"

The greatsword cleaved heavily onto the spot where Pei Zhao had just stood, sending dirt flying and carving a deep trench into the ground.

Just as the bone protrusion's blade missed its mark, its old strength exhausted and new strength yet to be generated, Pei Zhao's counterattack descended like thunder.

"Whoosh!"

A cold glint of light suddenly appeared in the glow of the campfire.

It was too fast! So fast that the local onlookers didn't even see how Pei Zhao drew his sword.

"Pfft!"

The dull thud of a sharp blade slicing through flesh echoed through the open space.

Bone burst into a shrill scream as his right arm, which was gripping the bone-chopping knife, was cleanly severed at the wrist!

Blood gushed out like a fountain, splashing onto the burning campfire with a sizzling sound and a pungent smell of blood.

Clang!

The severed hand, along with the heavy broadsword, fell to the ground.

The entire venue was deathly silent.

All the natives stared wide-eyed at the scene in disbelief.

Their tribe's strongest and fiercest warrior couldn't even withstand a single move from this Tang soldier who wasn't even wearing armor!

How is this possible?!

Bone protrusion clutched his severed arm in agony, howling as he retreated.

But the ferocity in his eyes hadn't completely faded. Like a wounded beast, he pulled a short knife from his waist with his left hand, determined to fight on.

"court death."

Pei Zhao's eyes turned cold, giving the other party no chance to breathe.

He pounced forward like a shadow, delivering a powerful whip kick that slammed into the back of Bone's knee.

"Snap!"

A sickening cracking sound rang out, and the massive body of the bony protuberance crashed to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Pei Zhao stepped forward, placing one foot on the bony protrusion's chest, and the horizontal sword in his hand was already firmly held against his neck.

The cold blade pressed against his skin; with just a slight exertion of force from Pei Zhao's wrist, this enormous head would roll to the ground.

Three tricks.

In just three moves, not only was the outcome decided, but life and death were also determined.

The chilling killing intent forged from mountains of corpses and seas of blood swept through the entire camp, centered on Pei Zhao.

The surrounding native warriors instinctively gripped their weapons, but none of them dared to step forward; deep fear finally surfaced in their eyes.

"The Man with the Domencho."

Yang Xuan remained seated on that large rock, without changing his posture.

He looked at Dormont, whose face was ashen and who was trembling all over, and spoke in a calm tone as if it were just a trivial matter.

"Now, are we in a position to talk about buying and selling?"

Duo Meng stared intently at the bony protrusion beneath Pei Zhao's feet, then glanced at the well-equipped, ferocious salt-protecting soldiers, and finally, his gaze settled on the thirty carts of snow-white refined salt.

Fear and greed clashed fiercely on his rugged face.

After a long while, he slumped down on the tiger-skin wooden chair like a deflated balloon.

"Tang people, you've won." Duo Meng's voice was incredibly hoarse. "How many horses do you want?"

Yang Xuan stood up and walked to Duo Meng.

"I don't need many horses," Yang Xuan said, looking directly into the other person's eyes, enunciating each word clearly. "I want all the Yunnan horses in your tribe that are capable of being ridden and used in battle."

"Impossible!" Duomeng jumped up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. "Our warhorses are the lifeblood of our tribe! We've given them all to you. If the army of the Zhechong Prefecture attacks, how will we resist?!"

"The Zhechong Prefecture will not attack."

Yang Xuan said coldly, his voice exuding a convincing and powerful confidence.

"Helan Jin is now preoccupied with how to trap me in Yaozhou City. Once I have warhorses, I can turn the salt protection army into a true cavalry. At that point, it won't be his Zhechong Prefecture attacking you, but me attacking Zhechong Prefecture!"

Yang Xuan suddenly waved his hand, pointing at the thirty carts of refined salt.

"This salt is enough for your tribe to eat for a year! I can also promise that every month thereafter, an equal amount of refined salt, ironware, and cloth will be transported into the Hundred Thousand Mountains. All you have to do is hand over your warhorses and, if necessary, defend me against any possible attacks from the Zhechong Prefecture from the south."

Yang Xuan approached Duo Meng, his gaze piercing.

"This is a high-stakes gamble, Dormon. If you win, your tribe will never lack salt or iron again, and your warriors can wear armor and wield the sharpest Tang swords. If you lose..." Yang Xuan paused, a cruel smile playing on his lips, "If you lose, you'll just continue to eke out a living in this mud, just like now. The choice is yours."

Dormont's breathing became unusually heavy, and his chest heaved violently.

He knew that the young Tang official in front of him was a madman, a madman who dared to fight against a regular Tang army garrison with only three hundred men.

But the conditions offered by this madman were as tempting as poison, making it impossible for him to refuse.

Salt, ironware.

This is precisely what they crave most and what they lack most in these mountains.