Chapter 402 - 354: The New Leader of the Iron Fist Gang

Leech and everyone else present fell silent, their gazes turning to Vendra in unison.

From the looks of it, Baron Leech clearly had the upper hand. After all, Kuer Oasis was standing meekly to the side like a servant.

But Vendra, who had been completely unnoticeable until now, suddenly clawed his own face, then raised his hand to offer the golden Holy Grail—an act no one had anticipated.

They couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t just hand over the Holy Grail. Why did he have to injure himself first?

Little did they know, Vendra had his own silent struggles. If he hadn’t done this, he’d be a dead man.

Leech watched Vendra, but his thoughts differed from the others. ’I’d always assumed the golden Holy Grail granted its user infinite healing and regeneration. But Vendra’s blood is streaming down his face—I can even see his gums through the gash in his cheek—and he isn’t healing. That means the Holy Grail itself doesn’t have that power.’

"I’ve investigated this Holy Grail," Vendra said hastily, realizing Leech wasn’t ordering his immediate execution. He finally had a chance to speak. "The soup inside is what has the miraculous properties. The man who was just decapitated survived because of the soup in the golden Holy Grail."

Leech was surprised. ’I can’t believe he saw right through me, and his methods are so decisive.’

"You hold on to the Holy Grail for now."

’There’s something strange about the golden Holy Grail. I can’t risk touching it carelessly.’

"I am willing to serve you, My Lord," Vendra said at once.

Leech nodded and looked over the other survivors. Besides his own party, only three others remained: Vendra, a silver-haired elf girl, and a sturdy female Barbarian from the Northern Territory.

As for the 30 Jinri debt, Leech certainly had no intention of paying it for Kuer Oasis. The three survivors also had the good sense not to bring it up.

...

「Late that night」

Lights still burned in several parts of the Bonta marketplace.

Deep within a tavern.

BAM!

A mug slammed onto the table. The leader of the Iron Fist Gang kicked the table in frustration and snapped at his trusted henchman, "She’s still not here?"

On the surface, the Bonta marketplace was run by the Oasis Clan, but in reality, it was the Iron Fist Gang that set most of the rules, big and small. It wasn’t because they were strong—they were no match for armored Soldiers with crossbows—but because they had numbers.

His subordinates were all bottom-feeders scraping by—petty thieves and crooks. They were the first to know about any disturbance in the entire Bonta marketplace.

Small merchants who wanted to eke out a living in the Bonta marketplace had to stay on the Iron Fist Gang’s good side. Among the common folk, a word from the gang carried more weight than one from Baike Oasis himself.

Petty tyrants are always the most troublesome.

But right now, the Iron Fist Gang’s leader was not happy. Drinking, eating, and bragging—what was the point of such a joyous time without women around? With no one there to clap and tell him how amazing he was, even his boasts felt flat.

The henchman quickly explained, "I just sent Goutou Jin to get them. A few nobles must have shown up, so they’re probably tied up at the moment."

"Bah, bullshit nobles!" The leader spat, his face full of contempt. "I hear some noble from the East Gorge is here on business. For years, Leon City hasn’t been able to extend its reach here. They have to plug their noses and let merchants do business by the book. What merchant comes here without clearing it with me first?!"

He knew they were deep in the tavern and his words wouldn’t travel. Reassured, his tone grew bolder.

After two or three more mugs of wine, he was puffed up with alcoholic bravado. "Some bullshit Baron Porcupine! Nobody in the desert gives a damn about the way they do things in the East Gorge!"

He was thoroughly pissed off.

With so many men at his command, he was well aware of the massive deal Baron Porcupine had brought with him—a deal worth dozens of Jinri. If he’d gotten a piece of that action, he could have pocketed at least a hundred or two hundred Silver Moon for himself.

And yet, Baron Porcupine had treated him like he was nothing.

’You big shots buy and sell your ’meat,’ and we little guys just help pass it along. We’d never dare take a bite for ourselves, of course, but after it passes through our hands a few times, a little bit of the grease is bound to stick.’

But who would’ve thought Baron Porcupine would show up and give him no face at all? He didn’t even bother contacting the mighty Iron Fist Gang, just cut him out of the deal completely. Not even the Oasis Clan would dare to be that arrogant!

Then you had the Desert Pearl of Mama City. When she stole something, she gave it directly to him to offload. Never mind whether he’d make a profit or a loss, or that he only took the job because he was afraid of Lisu Muma, or that he had to pay upfront before anything was sold. At least he had a connection to Mama City! Nobles had to give him face!

Face!

His henchman quickly poured another mug of wine and brought it over. "Boss, calm down."

The leader tipped the wine into his mouth. "He wants to do business in the desert? Hmph! With just a little trick, I’ll turn that Porcupine into a dead pig!"

BANG!

The door was suddenly kicked open.

The leader jolted, snatching the scimitar from the table and leaping to his feet.

Despite being called the Iron Fist Gang, when it came to fighting and killing, blades were a must.

"Argh!" A body was thrown onto the table, sending the food and wine crashing to the floor in a heartbreaking, sloppy mess.

The leader and his henchman stared, startled, at the figure writhing on the table. "Goutou Jin?"

It was indeed Goutou Jin, the henchman he had just sent to fetch the women.

Then they saw the two figures who had entered. They were cloaked, and beneath their cloaks were sets of worn plate mail.

"Wandering Knights!" The leader’s expression changed.

Knights were lords, symbols of wealth and high status. No matter how much he resented them, he knew never to provoke a Knight, because every noble Knight was immensely powerful.

But Wandering Knights were a different breed. With nothing but their unkempt armor, they no longer followed any knightly code and did as they pleased.

A visit from Wandering Knights was never a good thing.

The two men’s hearts pounded with anxiety.

Even though there were only the two of them in the room, the tavern outside was filled with their men. No ordinary person could have possibly forced their way in here.

And yet, they hadn’t heard a single sound of struggle from outside.

’Something must have happened!’

The Wandering Knight on the left asked, "Which one of you is the leader of the Iron Fist Gang?"

The Knight drew his sword partway from its sheath. ’Whoever admits it now is a dead man.’

The leader had a flash of inspiration. Pointing at the henchman who had just poured his wine, he stammered, "M-My Lords, he’s the leader!"

The henchman’s face fell, and he opened his mouth to object.

But the Wandering Knight on the right suddenly drew his Longsword. He stepped forward, drew back his arm, and lunged.

SHLICK!

The blade pierced the leader’s neck, severed his spine, and poked out from the other side.

Blood dripped from the tip.

The leader’s eyes bulged, his hand still pointing, his face a mask of disbelief.

The corpse toppled to the side.

The Wandering Knight pulled his sword free, bent down, and wiped the blood from its tip on the dead leader’s tunic. Then he looked at the henchman. "You’re the leader?"

The henchman was frozen in terror, his emotions on a rollercoaster.

’When the boss pointed at me, I thought I was a dead man. Who knew his identity would turn into my shield? The boss is probably regretting his little trick with his last breath. He should’ve just admitted who he was.’

Subordinates had to be quick-witted to survive.

"I’m the leader!" he said quickly.

’In the eyes of two powerful Wandering Knights like them, it probably doesn’t matter who the leader really is.’

The Wandering Knight sheathed his sword. "Our master would like a word. Come with us."

"Yes! Of course! Please, my lords, lead the way!"

The new leader’s heart was filled with dread. He couldn’t be sure he would survive the night. He could only hope that when he met the Wandering Knights’ master, he’d be glib enough to talk his way into keeping his life.