Chapter 1001 - 275: Blades and Shadows, Jianghu Resentment; Chivalrous Bones and Tender Feelings Amidst Chaos

In their daily life, the Hake Tribe, relying on its own martial might, burned, killed, and plundered throughout the surrounding regions, committing every imaginable evil.

They swept through like a swarm of locusts, seizing the people’s cattle and sheep, usurping fertile pastures, and driving innocent villagers from their homes.

The common folk ravaged by them were left displaced and homeless, their cries echoing over the desolate earth.

Old men shivered in the icy wind, children wept in terror, and women cried out in despair. Meanwhile, the warriors of the Hake Tribe stood by laughing wildly, reveling in their "spoils of war"; their conduct was so vile it beggared description.

Ever since the Western Holy Sect and the Hake Tribe began colluding shamelessly and joined forces, the two were like a vicious tiger given wings, their ferocity burning ever brighter. Those warriors of the Hake Tribe, wolfish and tiger-like, for the sake of the Holy Sect’s interests did not hesitate to serve as vanguard and hired fists, waging war and slaughter everywhere, seeking to help the Holy Sect expand its dominion and thus fulfill its unspeakably sinister ambitions.

On this Northwest Land riddled with crises and fraught with peril, the presence of the Western Holy Sect and the Hake Tribe was like two death-dealing blades of icy steel hanging high above everyone’s heads, their cold light flashing and chilling the heart, constantly threatening the survival of all forces. It also made the Northwest Salt Gang’s campaign to reclaim the Salt Road and Salt Field ever more bristling with thorns, beset by hardships and dangers at every step. Moreover, across the Northwest Land, all powers were interlocked like jagged teeth, entangled in interests that ran deep and twisted; the situation was all the more convoluted, like a tangled skein of threads that no one could easily unravel.

In retrospect, the Western Holy Sect and the Hake Tribe had originally kept to their own waters and never trespassed upon each other’s rivers, each operating methodically within its own sphere of influence. Yet as the years flowed by and times changed, both sides keenly perceived that the other might well prove the key factor in helping them achieve their grand designs.

The Western Holy Sect well understood that, after the successive upheavals within the Burial Moon, Wuyue, and Silver Moon families, the Sect’s vitality had been grievously wounded, and signs of decline were already apparent. If they wished to revive their former prowess, regain their glory, then seizing control of the Northwest Salt Road and Salt Field had become a matter of utmost importance.

After all, salt, as an indispensable commodity for the people’s livelihood, once grasped, was the very same as holding the golden key to wealth and power, allowing one to seize the initiative in the struggles of the Jianghu. Yet if the Holy Sect were to rely on its own strength alone and rashly clash with other forces, it would inevitably be overmatched and outnumbered, making it difficult to attain its aims quickly.

Meanwhile, the Hake Tribe too had sunk into many predicaments.

Years of ravaging drought had caused the pastures to shrink day by day, the grass withered and yellow, and the cattle and sheep gaunt with hunger; coupled with constant clashes with other tribes over resources, their living space grew ever more constricted, and they urgently needed to open up new lands and acquire more resources to alleviate the crisis at hand.

At just this moment, when they heard that the Western Holy Sect was likewise eyeing the Salt Road and Salt Field like a tiger watching its prey, an evil and daring idea quietly sprouted in the heart of the tribal chieftain.

The gears of fate began to turn in silence, and through a chance encounter, an envoy of the Western Holy Sect and warriors of the Hake Tribe met head-on on a narrow path.

It was after a small-scale skirmish; as soon as the two sides caught sight of each other’s forces, tension flared in an instant.

The atmosphere was taut as a bowstring drawn to its limit, ready to snap at a touch.

The warriors of the Hake Tribe, scimitars in hand and eyes blazing with fury, exuded a thick stench of blood as they prepared to leap forward and tear the enemy to shreds; the Holy Sect envoy, dressed in black robes, wore a stern expression, his gaze suffused with mystery and depth, his whole body radiating an eerie aura as he faced the warriors without the slightest fear.

After a brief stalemate, the Holy Sect envoy had a sudden inspiration, a scheme forming in his mind; the corners of his mouth lifted slightly in a meaningful smile as he slowly spoke: "Valiant warriors, stay your hands a moment. In my humble opinion, this struggle of ours will only leave both sides wounded, to the benefit of neither. Now, there is a fine stratagem: if my Holy Sect and your esteemed tribe were to join hands, then with your warriors’ unmatched valor in battle, coupled with the Holy Sect’s unfathomable Cultivation Techniques and vast, meticulous intelligence network, how could we possibly fail to easily defeat the Northwest Salt Gang and seize, in a single stroke, control over the Salt Road and Salt Field? Once the matter is accomplished, your tribe shall have priority in securing a large share of the salt produced by the Salt Field—not only enough to meet your own needs, but also to trade for other rare and precious goods. In this way, your tribe is certain to grow ever stronger and come to dominate the grasslands."

The envoy spoke with earnest conviction and clear logic, laying out one by one the alluring prospects of cooperation.

When the warriors of the Hake Tribe heard this, they were first taken aback, then looked at one another in perplexity, a flicker of hesitation in their eyes.

The tribal chieftains likewise wore grave expressions as they fell into deep thought. They knew full well that cooperating with the Western Holy Sect was tantamount to bargaining with a tiger for its hide, and that they were highly likely to be dragged into a brutal and bloody Jianghu conflict, the consequences impossible to foresee.

Yet that enormous lure of profit was like a blazing fire, scorching their hearts, making it hard to resist.

After a short while, a burly tribal chief with a full beard suddenly sprang to his feet, whipping the horsewhip in his hand with a fierce crack, and shouted: "Hmph! How could we let such a good thing slip by? When have the warriors of our Hake Tribe ever feared a fight? If we join forces with this Western Holy Sect, we might truly carve out a new realm, seize that Salt Road and Salt Field, and ensure that our tribe will never lack for food or clothing again!"

His voice was deep and powerful, resounding within the tent, carrying an air of unquestionable authority.

As soon as these words left his mouth, several other chieftains echoed in quick succession: "Indeed, we cannot miss this golden opportunity! Fortune favors the bold—what is there to be afraid of?" A greedy light flashed in their eyes; they had already been intoxicated by the promise of wealth.