nyslfriends Chapter 668 News from Beyond the Grasslands.
Chapter 668 News from Beyond the Grasslands.
Chen Fan did not refuse.
He led the gray-maned horse out, draped two thick sheepskin blankets over its back, and stuffed a few pieces of dried meat and a jug of sheep's milk wine into its saddlebags.
The cicada gently fluttered its wings inside his sleeve, seemingly quite looking forward to this long journey. For the past two months, it had been cooped up in his sleeve, barely having a chance to move except for the occasional flight to tease the gray-maned creature.
Chen Fan calmed it down with his divine sense, then mounted Gray Mane and followed Batu northward.
What takes three days to travel is but a fleeting moment for a cultivator, yet for a mortal it is a journey undertaken step by step. The two herded about twenty lambs northward along the dry riverbed, traveling by day and camping by night.
The autumn night on the grassland was exceptionally clear, with the Milky Way stretching across the sky and stars so bright they seemed within reach. Batu lay on a sheepskin blanket counting stars, and soon began to snore. Chen Fan sat cross-legged by the campfire, gazing absently at the flickering flames.
On the afternoon of the third day, the outline of the Agula tribe appeared on the horizon.
That tribe was much larger than Batu's, with at least a hundred households. The tents were pitched densely, and in the center there were several semi-permanent houses made of earth and stone. The roofs were not made of sheepskin but of a translucent hard shell made of solidified beeswax, which shone with a dark yellow luster in the sunlight.
The tribe was surrounded by a simple wooden fence, with several strings of wind chimes made of animal bones hanging on it, making a crisp tinkling sound when the wind blew through them.
At the gate of the fence stood two guards dressed in fur robes, with insect cages hanging from their waists. Their cultivation was only at the early stage of Foundation Establishment, but their bodies were filled with a strong insect spirit aura, clearly indicating that they were Gu cultivators from a small tribe on the Great Grassland.
Chen Fan glanced at it briefly before looking away, his face expressionless and his heart unmoved.
To him, the two Foundation Establishment stage Gu cultivators were no different from ordinary people. Today, he was merely a shepherd selling lambs, not a top-tier retainer of the Zhao Kingdom.
Batu was clearly not a first-timer here. He greeted the guards familiarly, gave them a few pieces of dried mutton as a toll, and then drove his flock into the tribe.
The market was set up in an open space in the center of the village, and it was larger than Chen Fan had expected. Dozens of stalls lined both sides of the open space, selling everything from sheepskins and salt to ironware and tea.
There were even a few merchants from the Zhao Kingdom, dressed in inland cloth and speaking a grassland dialect with a Zhao accent. Their stalls displayed porcelain bowls, cloth, and a few low-level magical artifacts.
Further away, several demonic cultivators dressed in black robes squatted in a corner, with a tattered cloth spread out in front of them. On the cloth were a few low-level magic crystals and a few crudely made demonic artifacts. They yawned listlessly.
Chen Fan's gaze swept over the demonic cultivators and then around the market.
Apart from the few Foundation Establishment stage Gu cultivators guarding the tribe and these few demonic cultivator traders, there were no other cultivators in the tribe.
We are all just ordinary people.
He withdrew his gaze, led the gray-maned sheep behind Batu, unloaded the lambs at an empty spot, and began to sell them.
Batu was a master negotiator. He divided the lambs into several groups and spent half an hour haggling with several herders who came to inquire about the price.
Chen Fan squatted to the side, occasionally chiming in with a word or two, but mostly just watching.
This scene felt quite novel to him.
He once sold a lamb for a record-breaking price of 650,000 spirit stones at an auction house, but now he's arguing with someone over selling a lamb for just two more pieces of salt.
Strangely enough, he found the latter more interesting.
When most of the lambs had been sold, Chen Fan heard the voices of two old herdsmen chatting while selecting salt at the next stall.
"Have you heard? Something big has happened on the grasslands. The Gu King's Palace is fighting with the Zhao Kingdom's border troops. I heard it's in the southern border region, and many people have died on both sides."
"That's right. My younger brother just came back from the south a few days ago. He said that several tribes there are conscripting able-bodied men. They want any man who can ride a horse and draw a bow. The Gu King's Palace has declared that they want to challenge the Zhao Kingdom and stop them from interfering in the grasslands."
"Tsk tsk, we ordinary folks have suffered. After all this fighting, aren't we the ones who suffer in the end? It doesn't matter whether the King of Gu or the King of Zhao wins, we still have to herd our sheep and eat our grass. It's just a pity for those young men who were conscripted into the army; who knows if they'll ever come back."
"That's true. By the way, I heard that this conscription is also related to that Hundred Sects Conference. It's said that the Zhao Kingdom sent a master to participate in the conference, and he outshone all the Gu cultivators on our grasslands. The Gu King couldn't save face, so he challenged the Zhao Kingdom."
"Is that so? What's the background of this expert from Zhao?"
"I don't know, it seems to be some kind of deity who defeated several of our Nascent Soul stage Gu cultivators at the conference. I don't know exactly who it is, I just heard it from others."
……
Upon hearing this, Chen Fan's heart stirred slightly.
It turns out that the conflict between the Gu King and the Zhao Kingdom was related to the Hundred Sects Conference. At that conference, he won the top three in the Gu Insect Battle and first place in the Gu Formation Battle, and his total score in all three categories was firmly in first place, which indeed slapped the face of the grassland Gu cultivators.
The King of Gu had been in seclusion for hundreds of years. When he emerged, he discovered that the grand gathering of a hundred sects, which he had painstakingly organized, had been overshadowed by a retainer from the Zhao Kingdom. Naturally, he couldn't swallow this insult. However, these were all power struggles between nations, and had nothing to do with him, a shepherd who was selling lambs.
Chen Fan simply shook his head slightly and then turned his attention back to the lambs. He was now just a shepherd in the Batu tribe, a skilled horse breeder, and a quiet outsider.
Whether the Zhao Kingdom and the grasslands went to war, or who won between the Gu King and the ruler, was none of his concern. He only wanted to sell his lambs for a good price and then return to his tribe with Batu.
By evening, all the lambs had been sold.
Batu used the money from selling the sheep to buy salt, an iron pot, several bolts of coarse cloth, and a small bag of tea. He also bought a few feet of floral fabric to make new clothes for his wife. The two set up camp outside the tribe, preparing to return early the next morning.
As usual, Batu drank a little too much that night. He lay on the sheepskin blanket, counted the stars for a while, and then started snoring. Chen Fan sat by the campfire, took out the gold offering token from his waist, played with it for a while, and then put it back deep into his storage bag.
Moonlight spilled across the grassland, and the lights of the distant Agula tribe gradually went out, with the occasional bark of a dog followed by silence.
The next morning, the two drove the remaining lambs on their journey home. It took three days to get there and three days to return, and the journey was uneventful.
After that, life returned to its usual uneventful rhythm.
Herding sheep, feeding horses, chopping wood, tanning hides—he rested at sunset and worked at sunrise. In this mundane routine, Chen Fan's mind grew increasingly tranquil, and the fusion of the three mental states within his dantian progressed silently.
He could feel that the thinner and thinner the window paper was, as if a mere breeze could break it.
But he didn't try to urge the wind on; he simply waited quietly for that natural moment to arrive.