Dimensional Supermarket - Chapter 29

The cave is pitch black, and the sound of the people’s panting seems to echo in Zhao Changsheng’s ears. He grips the stone wall with his hands, hesitant to move out but knowing that staying in the cave will only trap them.

What on earth is this smoke?

Is there really a fire, or is it some kind of demonic sorcery?

And if it is sorcery, why wait until they step outside to strike?

Zhao Changsheng tries to shout, but as soon as he opens his mouth, the smoke rushes into his nostrils and throat. He chokes and coughs violently, helplessly watching the people behind him rush out only to collapse one by one.

The chaos in the cave gives the “hunters” outside the perfect opportunity.

The smoke blocks everyone’s vision.

By the time they escape it and see the bodies piled outside, it’s already too late.

Zhao Changsheng grabs someone rushing past from behind. He doesn’t know who it is—only that now, anyone he can pull back is someone he might save.

“Who the hell grabbed me?!” the person snarls hoarsely.

Zhao Changsheng suppresses the urge to cough and forces himself to shout, “It’s me!”

The man, startled, responds, “My lord? Why are you still here? Get out! It’s full of smoke in there. I wonder which idiot started the fire!”

Zhao Changsheng, frustrated by the nagging, doesn’t answer. He just grips the man’s arm tightly, preventing him from rushing out.

The man grows impatient. “My lord, we can’t stay here! Let’s get out first!”

Zhao Changsheng leans closer to the man’s ear and says urgently, “There’s a trap outside!”

“A trap?” The man seems confused.

Zhao Changsheng wants to curse but keeps it in. He was once just a centurion—an important-sounding title, but in reality, he only commanded hundreds while a thousand-man commander was above him. That commander was stubborn, uneducated, and always used crude language. He had luck on his side, having been in the army longer and saving the lives of his superiors, but Zhao Changsheng knows he is far more capable.

Zhao Changsheng has watched his superior flaunt his power, and the frustration builds up. Why should he have the recognition?

But he has no choice. His talents have gone unnoticed, and he can never break free from being just a centurion.

In chaotic times, Zhao Changsheng begins to harbor thoughts of rising up on his own.

Everyone wants to become a dragon, not die a worm.

Troubled times give rise to heroes—why can’t he be one of them?

He kills the commander he couldn’t stand and forbids the soldiers from returning to their hometowns—he knows clearly that if they go back, they’ll never return. Only by staying here, in this poverty-stricken land, forced to work together just to survive, can he keep them united.

Zhao Changsheng hardens his heart. He climbs up onto a stone ledge and shouts with all his might, holding back the discomfort: “The people from the mountain are attacking! They’re the ones who made the smoke! Anyone who steps out will be shot! Stop! Stop!”

Finally, his words have an effect. Those about to step out of the smoke halt. Though they can’t see each other, they begin to regain their composure and move toward his direction.

The smoke begins to dissipate, and it’s no longer pitch dark. Zhao Changsheng takes a deep breath and continues, “There can’t be many of them, otherwise they wouldn’t use such a tactic to force us out!”

Someone immediately asks, “My lord, then if we don’t go out, they won’t be able to touch us?”

Zhao Changsheng’s irritation flares. Are they all idiots? He yells back, “If we don’t go out, where do we get food? The supplies are already gone! They’ve got houses down the mountain, with people bringing them rations! This is a siege! Without reinforcements, our only choice is to fight our way out!”

The bandits look even more lost. “My lord, didn’t you just say we shouldn’t go out?”

Zhao Changsheng growls, “I told you not to go out alone! If dozens of us charge out together, we have a chance to survive!”

The bandits fall silent—they finally understand.

Someone whispers, “So who’s going to lead the charge?”

“Of course, the ones who led before go first.”

“The ones who led before are long gone!”

Those people weren’t soldiers—called military laborers, but in truth, they were military slaves. They carried supplies during marches, and during battle, they were pushed to the front lines. The real soldiers behind them used blades to drive them forward—they had no choice but to run straight ahead and take the brunt of enemy attacks with their flesh.

When Zhao Changsheng broke off and went rogue, most of those military slaves either died or fled. Even the ones who stayed had become prey.

The ones who remained are his “soldiers,” people who would invade villages, demanding sons and daughters for military service, taking food and money from the villagers.

Zhao Changsheng had once thought it was good. These men were loyal, and they had nowhere else to go, so they’d stay loyal to him.

But now, he wishes he could slap sense into every last one of them.

“If you don’t charge now, are you just going to sit here and die?!” Zhao Changsheng yells.

The crowd stirs.

“No way! I’m not dying here!”

“Charge! What are we waiting for?!”

“There’s probably barely anyone out there—what are we afraid of?!”

But despite the shouting, no one moves.

Zhao Changsheng looks to his trusted aide who has come to his side. Back when Zhao wasn’t even a “lord,” this man had been his personal guard. It isn’t easy to train someone loyal—but now he has no choice but to send him to die.

“Feng Xiang!” Zhao Changsheng barks. “Pick some men!”

“Yes, my lord!” Feng Xiang clasps his fists.

Feng Xiang, a large, strong man with a simple mind, but fiercely loyal, scans the group. After a moment, he raises his long knife and shouts, “Follow me! Anyone who dares retreat, I’ll strike down myself!”

Zhao Changsheng isn’t completely unloved—those who are picked don’t want to go, but they don’t run either.

“Feng Xiang!” Zhao Changsheng calls again, “Be careful!”

Feng Xiang looks back and grins. “Don’t worry, my lord! I’ve got my life money on me—I still plan to get married and have kids!”

Zhao Changsheng stands frozen. Before he can say another word, Feng Xiang has already led the others in a loud shout and charges out of the cave.

The smoke clears away.

The people in the cave finally see the scene outside. The ground is littered with corpses, bodies stacked on top of each other. What had once been a small area is now a sea of blood. Those who ran out can’t even recognize the faces of the people who have killed them.

Feng Xiang leads more than a hundred people in a rush.

Zhao Changsheng shouts to the ones still inside, “You all need to rush out too! Get out together! Otherwise, there’s no hope of survival!”

Someone looks at Zhao Changsheng and asks, “My lord, you’re invulnerable to blades and arrows—why don’t you go first?”

“My lord, we are all mortals, with flesh and blood bodies. You’re blessed by the gods and Buddhas, lead the way and we’ll survive!”

Zhao Changsheng stands still, stunned.

Everyone is watching him, their expressions shifting from numbness to indifference, then to fervor. “That’s right! Our lord has divine powers! Lead us, like Brother Feng did!”

“My lord, we followed you all this way because you’re blessed by the heavens!”

They’re all smiling. Zhao Changsheng can even see the yellowed teeth in their mouths.

At that moment, a loud, fierce noise comes from outside the cave, and everyone turns toward the source.

The noise is continuous, and though its cause is unknown, the sound alone makes the blood run cold.

Every boom seems like a blow to their bodies.

All the people who have just charged out fall, and when the noise stops, no one is left standing outside the cave.

A fine mist of blood lingers in the air, almost invisible yet present.

Inside the cave, there is an eerie silence.

Zhao Changsheng’s body trembles involuntarily. He has a sinking feeling, a premonition of something terrible.

But there is no escape. He can’t find another Feng Xiang.

“My lord!”

“My lord, lead us!”

Everyone’s eyes are now fixed on him, their gaze turning into an overwhelming force—like hands pressing against him. He can’t avoid it. For a moment, he wonders why he rebels, why he tries to set up his own faction.

What would have happened if he hadn’t killed the commander, hadn’t climbed the mountain, and instead led his men south?

But there is no time for regret.

Zhao Changsheng thinks of his ambitions, the fire he feels when he kills the commander, and the dream that one day, he will reach the top of the mountain.

Lost in his thoughts, Zhao Changsheng finally jumps down from the stone pillar and smiles enthusiastically, like the rest of them. “Boys! Follow me!”

“Charge!”

“Charge out! We’ll crush them!”

“Charge with the chief!”

As they charge out of the cave, they are met with a relentless storm of arrows. Strangely, Zhao Changsheng, leading the charge, remains unharmed. It is as though the heavens themselves protect him. The arrows fall behind him, striking the ground he has just crossed.

Zhao Changsheng shouts with abandon, “I! I am the chosen one! The gods stand with me! I, Zhao Changsheng, am invincible! I can do anything!”

He laughs loudly, turning back to shout at those still standing, “Follow me!”

The survivors, witnessing Zhao Changsheng’s miracle, have tears in their eyes. “We’re willing to follow the king!”

Finally, Zhao Changsheng reaches the hillside, and it is there that he sees the figure standing at the top, clearly now in his sights.

The sun’s rays fall on the figure’s face, and for a moment, Zhao Changsheng is taken aback.

The young man before him seems out of place, his strange clothes and hair making him appear almost unreal. But Zhao Changsheng can’t help but think—such a young boy. Is he really going to kill all of us?

The boy looks strong, clean, and unscathed, unlike anything Zhao Changsheng has seen before.

His youthful spirit reminds him of his younger days, when he, too, had believed that he could go anywhere and accomplish anything.

Ye Zhou, meanwhile, is watching Zhao Changsheng, though he has never seen him before. He has heard of him from Sun Hao. Zhao Changsheng is about 1.7 meters tall, overweight, and has a red mole at the corner of his mouth, reminiscent of a mighty general.

Ye Zhou has ordered Zou Ming to spare his life.

Not out of compassion. Not out of fear of bloodshed.

It is because Ye Zhou, as the owner of the supermarket, is responsible for his subordinates, and Zhao Changsheng, as the leader of bandits, has the same responsibility.

This is their battlefield.

Ye Zhou presses his lips together, raises his gun, and aims directly at Zhao Changsheng, who is now within shooting range.