Chapter Twenty-Seven: Yangcheng Selects Prisoners of War

There were thousands of marketplaces, both large and small, scattered throughout the southern district. Yang Cheng and Lu Baichuan chose one that was fairly large and relatively close, and spent some time wandering around. Today, Yang Cheng had asked Lu Baichuan to help him select a few capable men to choose some prisoners of war.

Generally, prisoners of war were sent by military camps or various sects to the labor markets, which acted as intermediaries for their sale. These labor markets were all controlled by the authorities, who used various methods to restrain the prisoners, managed the transactions, and provided after-sales service, such as recapturing escaped prisoners, thus collecting a commission on each transaction. The labor markets also managed the hiring and trading of servants and employees, making them an important pillar of royal revenue.

The prisoners sold here were usually captives from border military camps, or disciples from sects and clans who had no one to ransom them after great battles. These people had no family background, had fought to the death for their sects or the royal family—either as expendable pawns or abandoned pieces, left to be at the mercy of others. The military and great sects simply sought to squeeze the last bit of value from these prisoners, and that was only to be expected. Should a prisoner attempt escape, the consequences would be even more severe.

Yang Cheng and Lu Baichuan entered the prisoner trading section of the labor market. Most of the prisoners wore special shackles on their hands and feet, sitting on the ground with ashen faces, awaiting whatever fate might come. On the stage stood dozens of prisoners, both men and women, barely clothed, while the manager introduced each one’s price to the buyers below.

Lu Baichuan glanced at those on the stage but saw none that caught his eye. He told Yang Cheng they should choose from those among the crowd of prisoners; anyone particularly strong enough on stage would likely have long been taken by others.

They called over a manager, who, seeing Yang Cheng and Lu Baichuan were unfamiliar faces, was neither warm nor cold in his manner. After Yang Cheng explained their purpose and discreetly slipped a pouch of spirit coins into the man’s sleeve with a polite “Thank you for your trouble,” the manager’s attitude brightened. He became quite attentive, leading them to the deepest part of the crowd.

The manager explained that many of the prisoners here were at the Foundation Establishment stage.

As they walked, Lu Baichuan pointed with his hand at those he considered suitable, while the manager took notes. Guards needed not only strength but also bravery; those who seemed timid or easily frightened would never be chosen by Lu Baichuan. Though Yang Cheng felt pity for their plight, he could not let compassion cloud his judgment. After selecting a dozen or so, Lu Baichuan suddenly tugged at Yang Cheng’s sleeve and motioned toward a certain spot.

Yang Cheng followed his gaze and saw a burly man sitting there. The man was wild-haired and bearded, covered in scars, but his tiger-like eyes blazed fiercely. He looked to be at least six foot three if he stood, exuding a savage presence. His expression was full of defiance and hatred. In addition to ankle shackles, he bore two chains locked through his shoulder blades. The sight made Yang Cheng wince in pain and his heart pound.

Lu Baichuan glanced at Yang Cheng and mouthed, “Integration Stage.”

The manager smiled, “You have a good eye. This man is an Integration Stage expert, so we had to lock his shoulder blades. With those locked, even a celestial immortal couldn’t make trouble.” He spoke lightly, but to Yang Cheng and Lu Baichuan, the words carried a profound sadness: no matter how great a hero you are, the authorities will always find a way to subdue you.

Yang Cheng was surprised—experts of the Integration Stage were rarely left unclaimed; families would snatch them up immediately if they could. He turned to the manager and said, “Include him.”

“He’s been to several households already, but always sent back,” the manager replied with a wry smile. “He refuses to obey, and each time he’s beaten nearly to death and returned. Now no one dares take him.”

“It’s fine. Bring him along,” Yang Cheng said.

Seeing the buyers unbothered, the manager was pleased. “Alright. Each Foundation Establishment prisoner is a hundred spirit coins, and we won’t charge more for this Integration Stage one. Same price. We only ask that if you don’t want him later, dispose of him yourselves—don’t bring him back and ruin our business.” Clearly, he was exasperated with the man. He had hoped an Integration Stage expert would fetch a good price, but it turned out to be a hot potato.

Even with Lu Baichuan’s keen eye, finding capable fighters among the prisoners took time. The three of them spent another two hours selecting, and eventually chose over thirty more. With the first batch of guards, they now had fifty people. After handing over five thousand spirit coins to the manager and completing the contract formalities, the labor market’s escorts led the group toward the Yang residence in South Hill.

The first batch of guards was thus secured. Their strength was not great; after all, anyone reduced to being sold as a prisoner could not be too strong. Most were wandering cultivators, but they were scattered and hard to find. Yang Cheng considered sending Xiao Wu to the old family supply point to spread the word through the shop assistants who came for goods—asking them to tell the tavern owners to pass on the message that the Yang family in the southern suburbs was hiring powerful wanderers. He was sure people would flock in. But on second thought, he gave up the idea: wandering cultivators were hard to control, and presently, the Yang family had no means to keep them in check. Inviting trouble would be disastrous.

This martial force differed from hiring ordinary servants; it had to be built up step by step, with no room for haste. For now, Lu Baichuan would keep the guards in check; later, they would select key members from among the guards to restrain newcomers, maintaining balance bit by bit. Such was the trouble of lacking true power: one wrong step, and all would be lost.

They continued to stroll through the market, noticing the city’s commercial district was laid out with great order. Besides general stores and inns for ordinary people, most numerous were stalls selling cloth, trinkets, and many unknown wild fruits picked outside the city, as well as skins and meat from non-spiritual beasts—varied and plentiful. The rest were shops selling spiritual herbs, magical implements, and spirit treasures, all controlled by major families.

Now that they had guards, they needed suitable weapons and equipment. They entered a well-established weapons shop, finding the walls hung with every imaginable blade, spear, sword, halberd, armor, and hat. Each item was clearly priced. All weapons shops in the city were controlled by various families, and fierce competition ensured a good reputation, so prices were generally fair.

While Lu Baichuan considered weapons and equipment for the guards, Yang Cheng went to the premium section to select a weapon for himself. Previously, he hadn’t had enough spirit coins and lacked a suitable weapon; now it was time to get himself a good sword, and perhaps something for Hua Mingzhu as well. Old Lu’s sword was no ordinary item—it was an immortal-grade spiritual weapon, priceless and obtainable only through great fortune and risk. Mei Yuchen had also inherited his father’s spiritual sword, not as strong as Old Lu’s, but still superior to most on the market.

The premium section’s weapons were of a much higher grade, though most were still considered top-quality among mid-tier spirit treasures; few high-grade spirit treasures were ever put up for sale. Yang Cheng didn’t find any he was particularly drawn to, so he chose a three-finger-wide longsword, planning to make a sword tassel so he could hang it from his belt.

He had always admired, from films and television, how the ancients wore swords at their waist, even though most people here either carried their swords on their backs or in their hands. Only those at the Golden Core stage could store their weapons within their divine sense, summoning them to hand with a thought.

Having chosen his own, he also picked out a finely crafted, two-finger-wide short sword, suitable for the petite Hua Mingzhu. Each cost five hundred spirit coins.

When he emerged, Lu Baichuan had already selected fifty each of sabers, spears, swords, and hammers, plus a hundred sets of armor—all per Yang Cheng’s instructions. The guard force would expand, so it was better to have more weapons and equipment than not enough. These lower-grade spiritual implements were not expensive; the whole lot cost just a thousand spirit coins.