Chapter 72

Ruan Xuezong’s method for taming the Black Eagle was brutally straightforward. He knew that birds like the Black Eagle had savage temperaments. They would only truly submit to a human under the threat of death.

He deliberately starved it, denying it both food and water. At first, the eagle proved just as stubborn. Even with its legs bound by a silver chain, it flapped and pecked wildly, desperately trying to escape while wasting its strength in vain.

As its energy ebbed and hunger clawed at its belly, the Black Eagle’s primal bloodlust surged. It fixed its gaze on the weakest living targets in their group—the two frailest people, and even the snow-white steed. With its superior level and claws sharp enough to rend flesh, any prey it seized faced death or severe injury.

Ruan Xuezong merely gave a cold sneer. “Craving meat?”

He was no kindly hero like Shen Jiangling, who might slice flesh to feed an eagle. The moment the Black Eagle entertained thoughts of harming innocents, he would repay it double.

Five-Colored Mottled Black received a quest as well: assist Ruan Xuezong in taming the Demonic Sect Black Eagle. He let out a joyful cheer before bustling about with enthusiastic energy. If anyone asked whether he found Ruan Xuezong’s approach too ruthless, he would indignantly snap back, “Ruthless? Why waste mercy on a Demonic Sect pet? Isn’t Zongzong plenty kind already? bbb…” (The rest was over a thousand words of fawning praise, omitted here.)

The Jianghu game featured the Hunter life profession. Players who chose it always carried three essential tools: a machete, a bow and arrows, and trap devices.

Five-Colored Black produced a small basket rigged with traps. It could reliably snare desert prey like sand rats, snakes, and lizards. But the Black Eagle, spoiled rotten by Du Rulan, refused to bow its proud head for such meager fare. When it wouldn’t eat, Ruan Xuezong didn’t push. Let it starve.

That’s how you tamed an eagle—break its proud spirit until it soared at your command.

【Ding, taming progress 40%】

The Black Eagle quickly grasped Ruan Xuezong’s ruthlessness. Starved to the brink of collapse, it beat its wings feebly and plummeted from over a kilometer high, crashing straight into a sand pit. It half-expected Ruan Xuezong to help it up. Instead, he gripped the silver chain and dragged it along. Amid the footprints of one horse and three people in the Great Desert sands, a fresh drag trail from the prey soon appeared.

With hunger and death as its punishments, the Black Eagle finally yielded.

When Five-Colored Black dangled dried meat before it again, the eagle lunged without hesitation. It devoured the stale, tough scraps it once scorned.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” Ruan Xuezong said with a faint smile. Against his strikingly beautiful face, the expression was breathtaking. Five-Colored Mottled Black drooled uncontrollably, snapping screenshots without pause. To the Black Eagle, though, this human was nothing short of a demon.

The first act made the second inevitable.

Before long, a mere lift of Ruan Xuezong’s arm or a single whistle brought the Black Eagle diving down to perch obediently on his hand. It had been conditioned through sheer repetition.

The desert baked like a furnace, and Ruan Xuezong wore only thin layers of clothing over his supple skin. The Black Eagle perched there, but its claws stayed perfectly still. Ruan Xuezong’s arm lacked any leather gauntlet or protective armor for falconry. A single scratch that drew blood would prompt him to follow through on his earlier threat: pluck out the feathers, peck off the claws, and smash the beak. No mercy.

The Black Eagle had endured relentless torment along the way. Its half-plucked body and blood-crusted claws told the tale of its brutal struggle with Ruan Xuezong.

Once its wild nature had mostly broken, Ruan Xuezong unfastened the silver chain. He spoke flatly. “You’re no ordinary bird. I can grant you freedom to soar the skies—but understand that freedom rests on my say-so.”

The classic treatment: a long beating with the stick, capped by one sweet date.

【Ding, taming progress 80%】

He removed the chain, and the Black Eagle didn’t dare budge. Even aloft, it kept a precise distance—not too near, not too far—neither fleeing nor growing bold. At Ruan Xuezong’s summons, it sped back from even the farthest skies.

Ruan Xuezong nodded in satisfaction, a subtle smile tugging at his lips.

He knew the final 20% would take time. No need to rush.

This journey aimed to submit Five-Colored Black’s “Person Search” chance encounter quest. The required item was an Elder Bloodstained Finger.

“Zongzong, submission coordinates are (3243, 2880),” Five-Colored Black said. “NPC Shi Yan’s right there. Map labels it Exile Land.”

In the recollections of Five-Colored Black’s chance encounter quest, Ruan Xuezong noted one key detail. The man in the Wolfskin Coat, Shi Yan, claimed a special identity. Stepping into Chasang would spark trouble, so he enlisted the player to search for someone instead.

Special identity. Sparking conflict. Those phrases screamed significance.

An ordinary Western Regions bandit—even one wanted across every street—wouldn’t trigger outright strife unless their crimes were beyond redemption.

This was a man harboring secrets.

Ruan Xuezong fell into thoughtful silence.

Banishment Land lived up to its name: a haven for the exiled. Upon entering a Western Regions border town, System 007 automatically granted players the Western Regions Secret Scroll Upper. The book kept them from aimless wandering and missing the main storyline.

The Western Regions Secret Scroll Upper described Banishment Land as a shelter for the cast-out.

Nations of the Western Regions punished the condemned by exile to White Bone Gully. But beasts prowled that ravine, guaranteeing death. Instead, the exiles trekked thousands of miles in shackles to Exile Land. There, they buried their pasts and survived. Over time, it evolved into a refuge for the homeless, bereaved, and desperate. The Western Regions Secret Scroll Lower held its origins, but players hadn’t obtained it yet. Ruan Xuezong had no clue.

His Treasure Map was crudely drawn. It placed Banishment Land in the jagged border between Little West Continent and Chasang territory—to the left, the sheer cliffs and badlands of White Bone Gully; to the right, the wind-scoured ruins of Devil City. A brutally harsh and defensible spot. And the map’s arrow pointed squarely into this sprawling region.

In his previous life, Ruan Xuezong had been trapped in Ten Thousand Kills Pavilion. In this one, he’d skimmed only parts of the original novel. He recalled the Western Regions’ major events through keywords: “love and hate,” “oppression and resistance,” “three great camps,” and “Grandmaster Treasure.”

Later, someone shoved him into the Sword Forging Pool, reducing him to a puddle of blood and shattered bones. He knew no specifics. Still, Banishment Land seemed worth a look.

Now he fled cross-country with the Chasang Holy Son, the pair resembling brothers. The “little brother” was a blind teenage boy nicknamed Little White the little blindy—utterly helpless in daily life. With three Half-Step Grandmasters in the Western Regions gunning for him besides, Ruan Xuezong concluded he fit right in at such a place.

They reached the border of Banishment Land.

“We’re nearly there,” Ruan Xuezong said, leading his horse at a slow pace. Abruptly, a ferocious gale hurled sand and dust everywhere. Heaven and earth turned a thick, murky yellow in the massive dust storm. Amid the chaos rose faint, archaic whispers—desolate and weighty, drifting down from the clouds.

“Holy shit, what the hell?” The grit stung like needles. Five-Colored Mottled Black’s eyes reddened instantly as he threw up an arm to shield them.

When the eye-searing winds finally died down, the group beheld Banishment Land for what it was: crumbled walls and charred husks of buildings. A town laid waste by war.

At the same moment, a plot blurb appeared on the players’ interfaces.

【Have you beheld it? This was once a thriving town along the ancient Silk Road, bustling with crowds, blessed with delightful breezes and scenery, where folk lived in peace and plenty. Then war razed it all. Blood painted the earth in ominous hues, birthing the infamous Exile Land. From the devastation, survivors settled. A decade on, this forsaken soil became a prize every army coveted. Such is the caprice of fate.】

War.

An unchanging theme since antiquity.

Ruan Xuezong stared at the ruined expanse, a ripple stirring in his heart like a stone dropped in a lake. He believed he now understood the three great camps of the Western Regions.

“Zongzong, the blurb mentions settlers here, but where are they?” Five-Colored Mottled Black peered around in bewilderment. Nothing but scorched ruins and toppled houses met his gaze—no sign of the quest NPC. He voiced his confusion aloud.

Meanwhile, a vast caravan of camels and horses charged across the desert. The riders’ garish clothes and titles marked them unmistakably as players. They galloped along, singing boisterously and laughing uproariously, unaware they’d reached the map’s edge.

“Exile Land at last. Western Regions mainline is all about treasure hunts—we camp here and wait. Bound to run into Zongzong!”

“Bloody big bro is 666, analysis on point. Accept my knee, lil’ bro!”

“Yo, check the Western Regions Secret Scroll. It’s like a chill novel, super engaging haha. Packed with weird tales and desert myths. Listen to this one.”

“Mine’s about some bandit in the Western Regions desert, mad for cash. He grubbed around the sands and struck gold—tons of jewels and riches. Went straight-edge, ditched bandit life, built an underground empire in the dunes. Classic rags-to-riches haha!”

“Here’s a good one: hundred years back, killer sandstorm unearthed some disaster. Mirages popped up, gods appeared in the clouds. Western Regions folk dropped to their knees, yelling ‘miracle!’ Winds sensed their pleas, died down, gods vanished. Damn, ancient folks were so superstitious!”

Linghu Xiao jumped in. “Ooh, and this—desert breeds sandworms, giant scorpions two meters tall. Hilarious! That’s straight-up monster turf, right? Hahaha—hey, why isn’t anyone laughing?”

He chuckled a few times, only to find the others stone-faced and rigid. Abruptly, they whipped their mounts around and bolted.

Linghu Xiao puffed out his cheeks. “What’s the deal? Why no laughs? You guys excluding me or what?”

“Laugh? Check your surroundings!” The players panicked, surging away in a chaotic herd.

Only then did Linghu Xiao look up. The yellow haze had cleared, revealing a colossal black shadow looming ahead—tall as a player model. Its red name tag read “Desert Poison Scorpion, Level 70.” It scuttled toward him, massive black pincers snapping.

“??? Holy shit!” Linghu Xiao felt himself cracking apart.