“Meat from virgin boys and girls is the most tender. Are we really going to have to wash our butts clean and let people eat us?”

The sharp-faced boy spoke only in Central Plains dialect, his face mournful as he followed behind Samuel Cooper, clutching his arm tightly as they walked toward their new master.

Bighead was always at the very front of the caravan. Samuel Cooper had only heard his voice before and never seen him in person. Now, mustering his courage, he glanced up, and even though he was mentally prepared, he was still startled, thinking to himself how such a terrifying person could exist in this world.

Bighead rode atop a black horse, and just his exposed upper body was nearly as tall as a grown man. True to his name, his head was as big as a bucket, with wild, bushy hair and beard, making his head look even larger—like a giant ancient cauldron carved with taotie patterns, every feature—eyes, nose, mouth, ears—oversized, as if a deity statue had stepped out of a temple.

His upper body was bare, muscles knotted and gleaming in the sunlight.

The black horse was also extraordinary, a full size larger than an ordinary horse, with fierce teeth and a savage glint in its eyes, more like a carnivorous beast than a steed.

Samuel Cooper started to believe the rumors that Bighead ate people. The sharp-faced boy behind him stumbled and nearly fell onto him.

There were plenty of horses in Bighead’s group; immediately, more than a dozen were led out. The newly purchased boys and girls, whether riding alone or sharing, were all forced onto horseback.

The sharp-faced boy stuck with Samuel Cooper, getting on the same horse and hugging his waist from behind. No matter how hard Samuel Cooper tried to shake him off, he refused to let go.

Ironhill Bandit finished buying the people, turned his horse east, and galloped away. Nearly ten thousand taels of silver were left on the road—enough to buy dozens more child slaves. The merchants were still in shock, Bighead had already vanished, and no one dared touch the silver.

Chapter 0008: The Bandit Camp

Twenty boys and girls were herded by fifty or sixty bandits, galloping at full speed, and returned to the camp that very night.

The Ironhill Gang’s camp wasn’t hidden deep in the mountains or forests, but was actually built just outside a large city. Over a thousand people bustled and shouted, weapons bristling, banners flying. From a distance, it looked more like an army preparing to attack a city.

“We must be outside Biyu City now, right?”

After dismounting, the sharp-faced boy guessed nervously, still clutching the back hem of Samuel Cooper’s clothes.

He guessed right. The Ironhill Gang was a mixed crowd, with people speaking all sorts of dialects, but the words “Biyu City” kept popping up, and everyone who mentioned the city wore a look of joy, slapping each other on the back with knowing smiles.

Samuel Cooper was quite puzzled. He remembered that, according to legend, Bighead of Ironhill always roamed the deserts and badlands, so why had he come to the outskirts of Biyu City now? And it didn’t look like he was here to loot, either.

The boys and girls were driven forward. The camp was almost entirely men, who were all curious about the children, pointing and laughing boorishly as they passed, which only heightened the little slaves’ fear.

The tents in the camp were packed tightly together, with the largest one in the center—clearly Bighead’s main tent.

Bighead went straight inside, and the ten pairs of boys and girls were brought in as well.

The tent was spacious, able to hold over a hundred people, with thick felt carpets on the ground. The newly bought child slaves stood near the entrance, trembling, awaiting their unknown fate.

Dozens of leaders and sub-leaders followed the chief inside. Before Bighead even sat down, he waved his huge hand and shouted:

“Bring the meat!”

The child slaves jumped in fright. Two girls fainted, two boys burst into tears, and the sharp-faced boy went limp, leaning against Samuel Cooper’s back, muttering tearfully:

“I was just joking, they can’t really be eating people, right?”

A group of underlings filed in, carrying platters of lavish food and meat. Even the children huddled in the corners had food brought to them.

The food and wine were piled carelessly on the carpet. Everyone sat on the ground, ignoring etiquette, and began to eat and drink heartily.

Even the smallest piece of meat was five or six jin, cooked rare, with blood still oozing when bitten.

“What… what kind of meat is this?”

The sharp-faced boy asked in a low voice. A few children who had picked up meat to eat put it down again when they heard him.

Samuel Cooper hadn’t eaten much for days and was starving. He didn’t pay any mind to the sharp-faced boy’s words, grabbed a chunk of meat, and took a big bite. Though it was tough and gamey, it filled his belly, and it didn’t taste at all like the human flesh of legend.

Once someone started eating, the rest followed, though everyone wondered: Bighead bought twenty children—surely not just to serve meat?

Looking around the tent, Bighead was self-explanatory, but even his subordinates all looked fierce and menacing. Even the most normally dressed had one arm bare, showing scars and tattoos. Some, getting drunk, even stripped completely.

This was a group of men brimming with energy. No matter how much food and drink they stuffed in, it never seemed enough, so they could only vent by fighting. Less than fifteen minutes into the feast, four or five brawls had already broken out. The onlookers not only didn’t intervene, but got even more excited, cheering loudly and tossing cups everywhere.

After half a piece of meat, Samuel Cooper was already full. Looking at this band of bandits, especially the tall and imposing Bighead, a thought suddenly occurred to him: if only he could get help from Ironhill.