The Tyrant’s Cannon Fodder Male Empress Chapter 100

Chapter 100

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“If you refuse a toast, you must pay by drinking the penalty toast. Have your parents spoiled you to the point where you can’t distinguish directions? Today, I’ll make sure you remember!” Liu Sanhu’s wrists moved swiftly, but he was sternly halted by the gang leader.

“Brother Zhao!” Liu Sanhu exclaimed urgently, “We saved his life, yet he doesn’t value our brotherhood. He even considers reneging on the agreement. Can our brothers tolerate his childish insolence?”

The leader’s eyes turned cold. “When did we save his life? He bought food and water from us with real money. Is that enough to make your tail point to the sky?”

Liu Sanhu’s face turned red instantly. He hadn’t expected his elder brother to play tricks behind his back.

Seeing his resentful expression, the leader pulled him aside and whispered, “This trip can earn us two thousand five hundred taels of silver. Enough for us to engage in some business, ensuring a worry-free life. We won’t have to suffer in the desert anymore. This kid is our golden goose. Let’s avoid offending him as much as possible. His family’s wealth implies influence. Keep some goodwill for the future. When we face difficulties, we can approach him for help. Why are you so impulsive?”

The others, upon hearing the words, realized the leader’s thoughtful consideration. Admiring him, they stepped forward to persuade Liu Sanhu to compromise.

Although Liu Sanhu had no intention of letting go of the arrogant rich young master, he couldn’t openly defy the leader’s request. He reluctantly suppressed his anger and followed the young master in silence.

After the leader’s guidance, the other men instinctively tried to please Lu Qian. They all hoped that by going to the capital, they could establish connections with wealthy merchants.

The goatee man, in particular, was excessively flattering. He convinced Lu Qian to place the meat and water on his own cart. Later, he even took out some of his own dry rations, refusing any payment.

Lu Qian wasn’t indifferent either. On the way, he grew closer to goatee man.

It wasn’t because the goatee guy had influenced him, but from the conversations he overheard last night, Lu Qian deduced that these merchants were after money.

The goatee man’s attempts to please were undoubtedly driven by a desire for money too.

So, if he responded positively to the goatee man’s flattery, it would make him believe that his gestures could bring in money. It would also encourage others to imitate the goatee man’s actions, creating a better journey for Lu Qian.

However, Lu Qian had no intention of rewarding them. He disliked this group of merchants.

Other merchants, without hesitation, fell into Lu Qian’s trap, eagerly providing him with food and drink in private.

No one expected that this seemingly naive young master consciously befriended different people every day, successfully inciting internal competition among a group of savvy merchants, maximizing his own benefits.

Just before leaving the desert, the leader asked the goatee man to convey a request to Lu Qian—

They hoped Lu Qian would accompany them on a short detour to Baixing Mountain, engage in trade with the local outsiders, and buy the necessary dry rations and daily supplies for their journey to the capital.

In addition to replenishing their dry rations, they also needed to sell their own goods brought from the border at a low price.

Baixing Mountain was south of the desert, making transportation much more convenient than the tribes on the border. Naturally, goods couldn’t fetch high prices there.

The farther south they go, the harder it was to get a good price for their merchandise.

Whenever they ventured to the border in the past, if luck was on their side, they could earn hundreds of taels of silver and even bring back some hides to sell in their hometown.

This time, they encountered a little god of wealth. There was a substantial amount of money waiting for them in the capital. They were willing to accept a smaller profit on their goods, but they couldn’t return with the same merchandise.

Originally worried that the little god of wealth wouldn’t agree to take a detour, they were relieved when he readily agreed.

Lu Qian wasn’t familiar with the nearby marketplaces, so these merchants willingly showed him the way, and he naturally didn’t refuse.

With the marketplace in sight, the silver coins Mother Consort gave him would be enough to buy several carts of dry rations and water, maybe even some milk and honey.

His Highness needed milk and honey desperately.

There was another reason — the name Baixing Mountain. The little reader-in-waiting had mentioned it to His Highness.

Supposedly, there was a martial arts master living up there. The little reader-in-waiting suggested that His Highness should seek him as a mentor.

His Highness currently had no time to take on a mentor, but he could at least scout the area.

The group arrived at the village at the foot of the mountain and first visited a few tribal elders.

The local people here were mostly straightforward. With proper courtesy, it was easy to manipulate them.

Initially planning to buy some dry rations at a low price, Lu Qian encountered a problem on his first day. These people didn’t speak his language, making communication impossible. To buy goods, he had to rely on the merchants to convey his intentions.

Naturally, the merchants wouldn’t honestly disclose the real prices of the goods. They intended to trade on Lu Qian’s behalf and make a substantial profit margin.

The goatee man mentioned that one pound of preserved meat here cost five taels of silver. Lu Qian remained silent and didn’t ask them for assistance in the transaction.

Several merchants believed that this young master, unfamiliar with local customs and unable to understand the language, would eventually seek their help to negotiate a lower price for the dry rations.

Throughout the morning, Lu Qian silently accompanied the five merchants, exploring the small marketplace in the tribe.

At noon, Liu Sanhu was bargaining at the preserved meat stall when he suddenly heard a familiar young voice beside him. Speaking the local language fluently, Lu Qian was purchasing thirty pounds of preserved meat from the stall owner.

When Liu Sanhu turned around, he saw Lu Qian’s calm profile. The sunlight cast a deep shadow on his long eyelashes, creating an enigmatic depth in his tea-colored eyes.

“You kid can speak the Baiyi tribal language!” Liu Sanhu exclaimed, astonished. He hadn’t expected this kid to speak the local language on his own.

Lu Qian ignored him and even reminded the stall owner in fluent local language — all lean meat.

The five merchants found it hard to believe. If this boy could speak the local language, why did he initially seek their help in negotiating?

Playing dumb, huh?

During the meal, the leader, in an attempt to test him, spoke a few sentences to Lu Qian in the Baiyi tribal language.

Lu Qian didn’t respond. He ate lamb silently, focused on his meal.

Growing more suspicious of the boy’s background, the leader continued to converse with him in the local language, wanting to know if he was pretending to be clueless.

Unable to get any response, the leader’s tone turned harsh. He asked Lu Qian in the Baiyi tribal language about his true identity.

After finishing a plate of lamb, Lu Qian calmly wiped his mouth, looked up, and ordered the leader, “Speak in Han Chinese.”

“You don’t understand?” The leader tried to discern any lies on the boy’s face.

However, the boy maintained the same indifferent aloofness as when they first met. No emotions were visible.

Initially, the leader thought of the boy as a blank canvas. But now, he realized that despite his extensive experience, he couldn’t read this boy’s thoughts or emotions.

Unsure if the boy trusted or resented them, the leader hesitated to play tricks in front of him.

“Can’t understand,” His Highness spoke bluntly.

“Then why were you able to converse with the merchants just now?” The leader didn’t believe his words.

Lu Qian gave him a look that suggested he thought the question was absurd, as if accusing him of asking a pointless question. His Highness, feeling unbothered to respond, lowered his head to indulge in the local specialty, lamb milk with steamed bread.

As a tape recorder with sharp ears, he spent the morning wandering the marketplace with the merchants. Observing the goods they traded and listening to their conversations, he quickly memorized the commonly used phrases for transactions.

The leader was utterly baffled.

What was going on with this kid? Did he intentionally act clueless when he spent fifty taels on fish initially?

But what was he after?

It was just too strange.

And…

Why did this kid eat so much?

He just finished eating roasted lamb leg a moment ago, and now he was devouring more than half a bowl of lamb milk with steamed bread!

His table manners were quite decent, with the airs of a young gentleman, but his appetite was unusually large.

Unable to discern the truth, the leader could only silently observe Lu Qian over the next two days.

On the second day, the merchants discussed business with the local tribal elders for about three-quarters of an hour. The elders then went out with their followers to inspect the goods.

The leader, calm and composed, sat by the tea table sipping tea. His peripheral vision remained fixed on Lu Qian. He surprisingly noticed the boy gazing at the floor, his thin lips subtly moving as if quietly uttering something.

The leader perked up his ears, straining to listen carefully, finally catching a few words.

Connecting the dots, the leader’s eyes widened in an instant.

This kid… he was actually repeating the conversation he just had with the elders!

A word-for-word repetition, all in authentic Baiyi tribal language.

The leader stared at Lu Qian in astonishment, realizing that not only was the boy’s mouth moving, but his left hand occasionally opened and closed, mimicking the elders’ gestures from their recent interaction. It seemed like he was deducing the conversation based on the scenes he had just witnessed, correlating them with language and vocabulary.

This boy had spontaneously learned the foreign language the leader had spent years mastering!

It left the leader with an indescribable feeling, perhaps a sense of awe.

Later that afternoon, upon hearing from the elder that there was a wealthy local who had a fondness for collecting ink paintings, Liu Sanhu and the others immediately brought their concealed artworks to his door. Pretending to encounter a connoisseur, they proposed a “half-sale, half-gift” deal, selling a genuine work by Yan Zhaoqing for thirty taels.

The Baiyi tribesman carefully examined the scroll and looked up to ask Liu Sanhu, “Is this ‘Peony’ a genuine work by Master Yan?”

“It’s fake,” His Highness answered bluntly, dismantling Liu Sanhu’s charade.

The tribesman, due to his admiration for Han Chinese culture, understood simple Han Chinese. Upon hearing this, he looked at Liu Sanhu in astonishment.

Liu Sanhu erupted in anger but hesitated to confront Lu Qian directly. Suppressing his fury, he ominously threatened, “What makes you say it’s fake? Tell me! If you can’t, I’ll make sure you regret it today!”

With a poker face, Lu Qian tapped the painting on the table with his fingertip. “The ‘Peony’ is a silk painting. If you want to imitate it, you should at least paint it on fabric, not on paper.”

Liu Sanhu: “……”

Fortunately, the tribesman couldn’t comprehend complex Chinese, so Liu Sanhu had a few of his brothers drag the darn kid outside. After some persuasive talk and coaxing, they finally managed to sell their fake painting at the “bargain price” of twenty taels to the unsuspecting tribesman.

Two days later, their goods were mostly sold, and they had replenished their supplies. In the afternoon, they were ready to set out.

While having lunch at a restaurant at the foot of Baixing Mountain, they suddenly heard someone shouting “dishonest merchants” in Chinese from outside.

The merchants were startled and turned to see the fool who bought the painting yesterday rushing in, holding the scroll angrily. He claimed to have taken it to a Chinese shop for framing, only to be informed that the painting was a poor imitation, worth nothing!

In truth, the painting still had some value. Liu Sanhu knew that foreigners liked to hang Han Chinese paintings for decoration, so he brought a stack of fake paintings.

Originally planning to sell them for one or two taels each, they unexpectedly encountered such a gullible person, making a handsome profit.

With their goods sold and a substantial ransom awaiting them in the capital, they were ready to return home for business. They had no intention of dealing with these barbarians in business again, so there was no way they would give back the silver they had earned.

Liu Sanhu, one leg propped on a long stool, cleaning his teeth with a bamboo pick, glanced disdainfully at the fool and asked impatiently, “Why do you say this painting is fake?”

The fool spread out the painting and, in the local language, rattled off a string of suspicions others had told him.

After hearing this, Liu Sanhu abruptly stood up and forcefully pushed the fool to the ground, menacingly scolding, “Stop your nonsense! The painting I sold you yesterday is genuine. Who knows where you found a fake one to scam me?”

The victim, now on the ground, erupted in fury and attempted to throw a punch at Liu Sanhu, but the latter swiftly countered with a knee to bend him over.

Concerned that Liu Sanhu’s actions might escalate into a brawl, a few merchants hurriedly stepped forward to restrain the victim and advised him to stop the fuss.

Unexpectedly, the stubborn victim picked a fight, attacking not only Liu Sanhu but also the surrounding dishonest merchants.

Tempers flared among the crowd.

Lu Qian, having finished his meal and not wanting to waste travel time, stood up to intervene with the victim, planning to give him some silver and send him away.

However, Liu Sanhu was enjoying the scuffle and refused to let go of the fool.

The dishonest merchants struggled in a chaotic tangle.

The tavern was now devoid of customers, and then a voice of an unfamiliar man entered the commotion.

“Make way, make way…” he said in Han Chinese.

The merchants, entangled in a heated argument, ignored this person. Unexpectedly, a cane, twisting like a snake, slipped through the gaps in the crowd. It successively pushed aside individuals, including the goatee man. Three people were pushed several steps back by this cane before regaining their footing.

As Liu Sanhu unleashed a flurry of punches on the victim, he suddenly noticed a cane blocking the space between himself and the victim.

The cane, like a whip, violently flicked, sending Liu Sanhu flying and crashing to the ground.

Fuming with anger, he looked up to find a snow-haired old man wielding the cane.

The old man, holding the cane in one hand and a gourd of wine in the other, staggered and collapsed onto the victim. “Another… another round!”

“You’re asking for trouble, old drunkard!” Liu Sanhu leaped to his feet, reaching to grab the white-haired old man.

However, as he approached, the old man, seemingly unsteady, took two steps back without looking, and with a thrust of the cane, hit Liu Sanhu square in the ribs, causing him to kneel in pain.

The inebriated old man turned his head, grinning at Liu Sanhu with bleary eyes.

The goatee man and the others were momentarily stunned.

Unexpectedly, the white-haired old man possessed the face of a young man, devoid of wrinkles, with rosy cheeks flushed from alcohol. He looked rather handsome.

“Apologies, gentlemen.” The old man, still in a daze, greeted them and turned to leave, embracing the victim and swaying towards the exit.

The victim didn’t recognize the drunken man holding him. He was puzzled but didn’t want to escalate the situation by resisting. Unable to endure the beating, he decided to follow the drunkard outside, intending to seek his clansmen in confronting these merchants.

However, as they turned around, the young boy from the caravan still stood before them.

Lu Qian had the scattered silver coins ready in his hand, silently waiting for the victim to approach and demand from him.

The victim, realizing the boy was in cahoots with the swindlers, spat in disgust and cursed him in Chinese, “Little swindler!”

Annoyed, His Highness, clutching the silver coins, took a step closer.

The old drunkard supporting the victim immediately “lost his balance,” raising the cane to jab towards the “little swindler.”

A surge of energy swept in. Lu Qian sidestepped, avoiding the cane, and with a raised hand, effortlessly neutralized the force of the cane’s swing.

The drunken old man’s hazy eyes suddenly sharpened, sweeping towards the boy’s face like lightning.

Was it a coincidence?

How could a child this young anticipate the change in his attacking move and easily evade it?

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