Black Charcoal on the Wasteland

Yao Huang grew more excited as he spoke, as though he could already see that glorious future. "When that time comes, the entire Nine Serene Deepground Python Clan—its countless branches and collateral lines, the treasures and resources it has amassed over ten thousand years, its vast intelligence network spanning the continent... all of it."

"Will belong entirely to Your Highness!" At that moment, even the layers of cold, damp miasma parted by the flying serpent vessel seemed unable to dim the fiery glow in Yao Huang's eyes.

Yet beneath Yao Huang's flattery, Qing Lin remained calm throughout. She harbored an enormous secret that Yao Huang could never discover.

At the northeastern edge of the Central Plains.

The dust raised by the small caravan was especially conspicuous. This was a caravan hired by Qianhua Trading Company, made up of more than a dozen sturdy wagons pulled by pack beasts, loaded with well-protected goods.

Leading them was Wang Zhuang, the escort chief for this journey, a resolute man with a body as tough as refined iron. Deep lines carved by years of wind and frost marked his face.

"Stay sharp!" Wang Zhuang barked, his voice carrying far through the air. "The Flame Wasteland hasn't been peaceful these past few months. They say the underground fire veins have been violently restless, and who knows when something bizarre might come bursting out. The ground has split open and spewed flames before. We must reach the next safe resting place before nightfall."

"Yes, Escort Chief!" Orderly replies came from the front and rear of the caravan, displaying the group's discipline.

Just as Wang Zhuang finished checking on the caravan and was preparing to move on, a young girl suddenly poked her head out from a wagon in the middle of the convoy. She was