Chapter 6: The Devil's Bargain

The stench of the stables seemed to have taken on a physical form, clinging to Li Hu’s skin and burrowing into every pore, making him feel as though he had become a part of the rotting hay and horse manure.

He curled up in the dampest corner, his bloodshot eyes fixed intently on the distant encampment of the cooking brigade. The lights there and the faint sounds of laughter cut through his nerves like a dull blade.

A centurion. He had once been a centurion.

Now, he was less than a common grunt.

And all of this was thanks to that damnable fat man!

Hatred gnawed at his reason like a parasite. Just as he was on the verge of being driven mad by this festering resentment, a shadow silently loomed over him.

Li Hu jerked his head around, a fierce light flashing in his eyes.

A middle-aged man dressed in a steward’s livery with a somber expression stood behind him, holding a food box, an unsettling smile plastered on his face.

"Centurion Li, hungry?" the man’s voice was raspy, sounding unnervingly sharp in the quiet of the stable.

Li Hu remained silent, watching the uninvited guest with suspicion. The man’s breathing was steady, his footsteps soundless; he was no ordinary servant.

The steward did not mind. He opened the food box at his own leisure.

The rich aroma of roasted chicken instantly dissipated the stench of the stables, savagely invading Li Hu’s nostrils. His stomach gave an uncontrollable growl.

"A fat man who climbed the ranks by riding his father’s coattails and playing opportunist in the kitchen has now become the Commander's favorite," the steward said slowly, each word like a small knife piercing Li Hu’s sore spot. "And you, a centurion who fought for every rank on the battlefield with real steel and blood, have been reduced to living among beasts. Centurion Li, are you content with this?"

Li Hu’s breath hitched, his fists clenching so tightly his knuckles cracked.

Content? How could he possibly be content!

The steward watched the fire burning in his eyes, his smile deepening. He took a glistening, fragrant roast chicken out of the box, along with a letter sealed with red wax, and placed it beside the bird.

The seal bore the mark of a savage wolf’s head.

"I only need you to deliver this letter under the cover of night to the beacon tower thirty miles away," the steward said, pushing the food box toward Li Hu. "There, 'friends from the north' are waiting for you."

Li Hu’s pupils dilated.

Friends from the north?

The Yuan dogs!

The words exploded in his mind like a thunderclap. Though he hated Fan Tong to the bone, he was, after all, an officer of the Great Ming. Colluding with the Yuan army was treason! A capital crime that would see his entire lineage executed.

His hands trembled. In his mind, the glory of his past—clad in armor, receiving honors before the troops—clashed violently with the present reality of being surrounded by filth and humiliation in a stable.

"You..." his throat was parched, and it took a long moment to squeeze out the word.

"Once it is done," the steward said, as if reading his mind, offering the final bargaining chip, "Fan Tong will certainly die. His position as a banner leader, and perhaps even the future of a millenary commander… it will all be yours."

A millenary commander!

Li Hu’s breathing stopped.

The steward leaned in close, his voice dropping to a demonic whisper: "And you are not committing treason. You are merely helping a great man in the imperial court purge a 'traitor' from the army."

Purge… a traitor?

The words acted like a key, instantly throwing open the floodgates of hatred in Li Hu’s heart.

Yes! That fat man, wasn't he just a traitor? He bewitched the Commander and shook the morale of the army; he was the true parasite of the Ming! If I kill him, I am ridding the country of a pest!

Once the thought took root, it could no longer be contained.

Li Hu snapped his head up, his eyes bloodshot, the struggle and hesitation replaced by absolute madness. He snatched the letter, shoved it into his tunic, and grabbed the roast chicken, tearing into it savagely.

"I'll do it!" he spat through gritted teeth, his voice a hoarse rasp from the depths of his throat.

The steward smiled, a cold and satisfied expression. He watched Li Hu gorge himself on the chicken, as if admiring a beast falling into a trap, before his form flickered and he vanished silently into the shadows of the stable.

***

Meanwhile, in Fan Tong’s tent.

He was fretting over the two vials emitting an eerie red glow.

After using one, he felt his physical prowess had at least doubled. If he could arm the rest of his kitchen staff…

"System, can this stuff be diluted? Mix it with some water, make a 'Ten-Ingredient Vitality Soup' or something?" he asked in his mind.

[Burp... excuse me!] The system let out a satisfied belch and answered lazily: [You could, but the effect definitely won't be as good as the full vial, and it will take longer to kick in. Oh, right, there is one small side effect.]

"What side effect?" Fan Tong felt a tightening in his chest.

[Nothing much, just that it creates a bloodline connection. Simply put, those who drink the potion you provide will naturally feel close to you and develop a sense of loyalty; they won't betray you. After all, the original design of this system wasn't meant to cultivate a bunch of ingrates.]

Fan Tong’s eyes lit up instantly!

This wasn't a side effect; this was a VIP-exclusive gift package!

He slapped his thigh and, without a second thought, immediately called for Bao Nianfeng.

"Boss, you called for me?" Bao Nianfeng looked at Fan Tong with adoration.

"Go, call over the few in the kitchen who work the hardest and are the most honest," Fan Tong lowered his voice, a mysterious smile on his face.

Soon, seven or eight kitchen hands, including Bao Nianfeng—all of whom were hardworking but as scrawny as monkeys—stood uneasily before Fan Tong.

"Boss, you... what is this?" one of them asked softly.

"Looking at you all, skin and bones, as your leader, I feel terrible," Fan Tong pulled out a large waterskin as if by magic, his face full of feigned distress. "This is a secret recipe I pulled strings to acquire, a powerful tonic! Today, I’m going to help you all build some strength!"

Right in front of them, he poured a vial of "Ogre Bloodline Potion" into the waterskin, shook it, and poured a bowl for each of them.

The water was colorless and tasteless, no different from what they usually drank. The kitchen hands, though skeptical, trusted Fan Tong and downed it in one gulp.

"Alright, go get some rest. We have to be up early to work tomorrow," Fan Tong waved them off.

Over the next few days, some strange changes occurred in the kitchen.

Bao Nianfeng and the others who drank the "tonic" developed voracious appetites, eating like starving ghosts; they could consume three days' worth of food in one sitting.

Even more bizarrely, not only did they not get sick, but their energy levels continued to soar.

In just five days, these men "bulked up" as if they were being inflated. But this strength was completely different from the flabby fat Fan Tong had possessed; their shoulders widened, their chests thickened, and sturdy muscles bulged on their arms.

The previously frail Bao Nianfeng now looked broad-shouldered and sturdy. Yesterday, while carrying a sack of rice, his hand slipped, and in his panic, he punched the wooden post next to him, leaving a dent shaped like a fist.

The way they looked at Fan Tong also became increasingly awestruck and fanatical, as if they were looking at a living god.

Fan Tong watched all of this, his heart filled with joy. A heavy-duty cooking brigade that could fight and endure, and was absolutely loyal, was quietly taking shape.

That night, Fan Tong was woken by a need to relieve himself. He yawned as he stepped out of the tent, heading toward the corner.

Just as he passed the stables, his peripheral vision caught a dark shadow sneaking out over the back wall, moving with an agility that was completely unlike an ordinary stable hand.

That figure... why did it look so familiar?

It was Li Hu!

Fan Tong’s sleepiness vanished instantly.

In the middle of the night, why wasn't he busy cleaning manure? Why was he sneaking out? And the direction he was heading was the perimeter of the camp!

A wave of intense unease washed over Fan Tong.