Chapter Seventy-Four: Reinforcements

With curiosity in their hearts, Feng Xiaobao and Tang Tian could not help but gasp in astonishment when they met the Kunlun slave known as Number Seven Hundred Sixty-Four. This man possessed extraordinary qualities.

He stood over eight feet tall, his waist as thick as ten spans, his visage fierce and savage, fists like cauldrons, legs like elephant trunks, his skin black as charcoal, muscles hard as oak.

Minimi introduced him, saying, "He declares that anyone wishing to buy him must first best him in combat; only then will he pledge loyalty. Otherwise, there is no hope of winning his heart."

"Beat him in a fight?" Tang Tian covered her mouth, speechless. Such a human beast—if a master had to defeat him to buy him, he would likely never be sold in a hundred years.

Yet Feng Xiaobao asked with interest, "What counts as victory in a fight with him?"

To everyone's surprise, Minimi answered, "Anything goes!"

"Anything goes?"

"Yes, anything. I told him that since he demands a contest, the challenger should decide the terms—it’s only fair!"

"Not only can the challenger choose the method, but he may even send his own men to fight in his stead. Sadly, no one has ever won."

Still, most challenges relied on brute strength; only by outmuscling him could one truly gain his allegiance.

Minimi was an amusing character. Feng Xiaobao said, "Very well, let me try—I’ll arm wrestle him!"

Arm wrestling? Feng Xiaobao laid out the rules: both would sit, grapple arms, and try to press the opponent's arm to the table.

Everyone grew interested. Conveniently, there was a stone table and chairs in the courtyard. They called Number Seven Hundred Sixty-Four over to compete with Feng Xiaobao.

News of another challenger to the famous slave spread, and suddenly more than a dozen onlookers—customers and bosses alike—gathered around.

Up close, everyone marveled at Number Seven Hundred Sixty-Four’s strength. Comparing the thickness of their arms, few favored Feng Xiaobao.

"Any wagers?" Minimi asked.

Tang Tian casually placed down two gold ingots, living up to her reputation as a wealthy beauty.

Minimi countered with four, offering odds of two to one: if he won, he took the two ingots; if he lost, he paid out four.

He could not take bets from others, for everyone backed Number Seven Hundred Sixty-Four.

In truth, Minimi indulged his slave’s antics out of boredom, seeking amusement in his otherwise unchanging life. For a tycoon, monotony breeds dissatisfaction; a bit of novelty from Number Seven Hundred Sixty-Four was welcome. Besides, he had profited handsomely from betting—every challenger believed in their own victory and lost, swelling Minimi’s coffers.

There was never a shortage of fools who believed in their own strength, and those who dared to bet against Number Seven Hundred Sixty-Four were invariably wealthy or noble. Minimi had long since recouped his costs and more.

Only when no one dared wager would he be forced to sell Number Seven Hundred Sixty-Four.

Feng Xiaobao warmed up, stretching his arms. He even removed his outer robe, revealing muscular arms that drew a gasp from the crowd.

Some secretly regretted not betting on Feng Xiaobao—perhaps he had a slim chance!

Feng Xiaobao and Number Seven Hundred Sixty-Four sat, their wrists locked.

"Ready, begin!" Minimi called, tense.

"Ha!" Feng Xiaobao shouted. His muscles bulged, and in an instant he slammed Number Seven Hundred Sixty-Four’s arm down onto the stone table!

It happened so fast that not even the spectators or Number Seven Hundred Sixty-Four himself could react.

The crowd gaped, unable to accept such an outcome.

Arm wrestling relies on explosive force—a sudden burst of strength. In training, one might grip a dumbbell, moving it with wrist power alone, no other muscles involved. Years of such practice gave Feng Xiaobao the edge; the other was unaccustomed, so victory was his.

Of course, technique means little without strength; the iron must still be hard.

"Xiaobao wins!" Tang Tian announced.

One round was agreed upon; Minimi, cheerful in defeat, conceded readily. "Unexpected, truly unexpected! Well, you may take him away."

"What is the price?" Feng Xiaobao asked.

"Money is irrelevant. He was the subject of a wager—win, and he’s yours!" Minimi declared.

"Then thank you, Boss Minimi!"

Minimi acted decisively, producing Number Seven Hundred Sixty-Four’s slave contract and transferring ownership to Feng Xiaobao. He congratulated him on his victory, displaying the magnanimity worthy of a great merchant. Success is never mere luck.

A single Kunlun slave—was more needed?

No, one would suffice; bringing too many black servants home would be too ostentatious.

Besides, though these black slaves excelled in solo combat, *** often relied on teamwork and weapon skills—areas in which they lagged behind others.

...

"Why do these foreign slaves look so familiar?" Tang Tian exclaimed before the foreign slave cages.

"They’re the ones your family sold to me!" Minimi replied, surprised.

So that was it! The Tang family had quite the business; the trade in human flesh had always been lucrative. Feng Xiaobao listened attentively, gaining even greater confidence in the Tang clan.

"Do you want them back? I can return them at the original price," Minimi offered sincerely.

"No," Tang Tian refused.

They strolled past the foreign slave cages, seeing some fierce, some strong men. One, speaking broken Chinese, called out, "Buy me—I’m a goose-shooter!"

A goose-shooter—an archer capable of bringing down a wild goose from the sky. Even Feng Xiaobao felt intimidated.

It sounded tempting, but Tang Tian was simply showing him around, letting him broaden his horizons.

She quietly explained to Feng Xiaobao that only great families could manage foreign slaves—they were unruly and hard to train, often rebellious or prone to escape. Only those with ample manpower and means could handle them. Feng Xiaobao, for now, was better off avoiding them.

"When you become powerful and wealthy, you could manage an entire tribe of foreigners—or take in their children young. For now, it’s beyond us."

Her explanation enlightened Feng Xiaobao—the tales of taming foreigners with a mere show of strength were fanciful; only a noble house or high official could hope to manage them.

Thus, the remaining option was Han people as retainers. Boss Minimi graciously led them through rows of cages, introducing them one by one.

There were so many that Feng Xiaobao was dazzled, unable to choose. Fortunately, he had Tang Tian to guide him.

On her advice, Feng Xiaobao purchased twelve honest, sturdy young men and their families—twelve households in all, his first batch of retainers.

The able-bodied adults could fight for him, while the women and children handled tasks within their abilities, such as preparing medicines.

Feudal society was indeed convenient; buying people was perfectly legal. Could he acquire some Silla maidens or foreign concubines? Emboldened, Feng Xiaobao asked, "Tian’er, do you need Silla maidens to attend you at home?"

Tang Tian, knowing full well how his heart wandered at the sight of Silla maids and foreign concubines, countered sharply, "My two maids will soon arrive to join me; they’ll handle everything. I don’t need anyone else’s help."

"As for you," she smiled sweetly, "I’ve arranged for them to serve you!"

She pointed to two plain-faced girls among the newly purchased retainers.

Feng Xiaobao felt utterly pitiful.