Chapter 65: The Three-Animal Offering of the Pig's Head

"Hey, kid, wake up. This is hardly a good place for a nap."

A series of sharp, stinging slaps landed mercilessly on Cheng Huan's face.

The burning pain quickly jolted Cheng Huan completely awake.

A pitch-black cave, man-made wooden stakes, thick ropes soaked in sesame oil, himself wrapped up like a traditional rice dumpling, and two menacing masked men.

Without a second of hesitation, Cheng Huan immediately delivered the standard response.

"My two good brothers, we are meeting here by sheer chance, and crossing paths today is quite a fate. I wonder what you two gentlemen are looking for?"

"Well, well, I didn't see that coming. The kid is quite cooperative, which saves us a lot of breath." Chen An, disguised with a face full of fake pockmarks, teasingly patted Cheng Huan's cheek.

"We are all men making a living in the underworld; keeping it straightforward is much more refreshing." Cheng Huan put on the air of a seasoned veteran of the martial world. "To be honest with you, this isn't the first time I've been kidnapped."

"Oh, look at that, he's even experienced. That means we don't need to beat around the bush." Zhong Miao, disguising his voice, flashed a dagger.

The gleaming blade swept past Cheng Huan's eyes.

Cheng Huan immediately raised his voice, "No problem at all! I just don't know what you two want?"

"What we want depends entirely on what Young Master Cheng is able to offer," Chen An said. "Why don't Young Master Cheng tell us yourself what you paid last time? That way we can save ourselves the trouble of haggling."

"Last time they asked for five hundred taels of silver," Cheng Huan said just as his voice trailed off, "This time, six hundred taels. I'll give you six hundred taels."

Having blurted out what he thought was a comparable amount, Cheng Huan was met with the looks of disdain and mockery from Chen An and his companion.

"Seven hundred taels," Cheng Huan immediately continued, upping the stakes. "The extra one hundred taels will be to treat you two brothers to drinks and courtesies."

Chen An remained silent, lowering his head to swipe his thumb across the razor-sharp edge of the blade.

"Eight hundred taels."

"Nine hundred taels."

"One thousand taels!" After raising the price twice, Cheng Huan's tone began to show a hint of panic.

Logically speaking, one thousand taels was by no means a small sum; it was enough for a family of three to live in peace and comfort for a lifetime.

If the kidnappers refused to state their stance, it could only be for one of two reasons: either they were unsatisfied with the ransom, or they intended to silence him by killing him.

Completely passive, Cheng Huan was now essentially fish on a cutting board, ready to be carved up at will.

Because his heart was pounding furiously, sweat began to bead continuously on Cheng Huan's forehead. With his breathing somewhat shallow, he waited for Chen An's final verdict.

"We have certainly received Young Master Cheng's sincerity, but..." Chen An paused. "Young Master Cheng is, after all, the son of the prefect, a descendant of a prominent and noble family. A mere thousand taels of silver probably insults your dignity, doesn't it?"

Although Chen An was putting him on the spot, his words also made Cheng Huan realize that Chen An had no intention of killing him.

"It seems you are here solely for wealth," Cheng Huan paused. "In that case, name your price."

"Since Young Master Cheng has spoken, naturally we cannot refuse to give you face," Chen An's tone suddenly halted. "One thousand taels sounds a bit too meager; I don't much care for it. How about this—eight thousand eight hundred and sixty taels. Lots of eights and sixes, an auspicious omen."

"H-how much?" Cheng Huan asked, finding it utterly absurd.

Seeing that Chen An did not look like he was merely spouting nonsense, Cheng Huan blurted out, "Are you out of your mind? Where on earth am I supposed to get that much silver?"

"One thousand taels and eight thousand taels aren't all that different anyway," Chen An continued. "They always say: three years as the prefect of Youzhou yields one hundred thousand flakes of silver. A mere eight thousand taels is just a drop in the ocean."

"I don't have that kind of money! You're stretching your mouth like a lion demanding an exorbitant sum!" Cheng Huan shook his head. "You might as well just go out and rob someone!"

"Young Master Cheng, what you just said actually makes a certain amount of sense. Both your father and I are engaged in robbery, it's just that the two of us rob in different ways," Chen An said. "And come to think of it, the two of us are even somewhat nobler than your father. At least we can be considered chivalrous thieves—for starters, we don't prey on ordinary, humble folk."

Cheng Huan was left speechless by Chen An's logic, and could only reply, "The figure you mentioned is completely impossible. Since that's the case, you might as well just kill me now."

"Trying to play the rogue, are we?" Zhong Miao shouted loudly. "Well, the ancestor of all rogues is right here."

Zhong Miao pulled a red-hot iron fork out from the nearby campfire. "Do you know what this thing is also called? Ever have a taste of the three sacrificial beasts for a pig's head?"

"Now, that's where you're wrong. Young Master Cheng here is the scion of a wealthy household, spending his days amidst romantic breezes and the moon, falling in love. How could he possibly be like us, braving wind and rain every day, doing work that constantly risks losing our heads?" Chen An cast a sidelong glance. "Fine then, why don't we show Young Master Cheng so he can understand the market rates and learn what it means to share the joy with the common people!"

"You got it! Young Master Cheng, you better keep your eyes wide open and don't blink."

Without another word, Zhong Miao forcefully tore open his trouser leg, revealing a stark, pale thigh.

Amidst Cheng Huan's gasp of horror, Zhong Miao brought the glowing iron fork straight down against the flesh!

*Sizzling... hiss...*

The next second, a plume of white smoke rose into the air, and the pale white thigh instantly turned a scorched, yellowish-brown, immediately followed by the rich, heavy smell of roasting meat.

Such a raw, brutal scene left Cheng Huan staring dumbfounded, utterly speechless.

"What's wrong, Young Master Cheng? Shall we reconsider sharing the joy with the common people?" Chen An smiled as he stepped forward, aggressively ripping open the front of Cheng Huan's garments to reveal a dense patch of chest hair.

"N-no... please don't." Cheng Huan struggled violently, but bound as he was from head to toe, no matter how he shouted, he could only remain at their mercy.

To kill a man and shatter his soul!

Chen An began to mutter relentlessly: "The ritual of the three sacrificial beasts for a pig's head originated with the ruffians and scoundrels of the Nine Gates Ferry. In that place, unlike Youzhou, they favored both civil and martial duels. The civil duel involved maiming oneself. Don't you worry, in a little while, we'll certainly help you carve out that charred flesh with a knife and feed it to you, then apply some ointment. It won't be long before fresh meat grows back."

"Oh, but I forgot to mention, that process is rather unpleasant—it burns and it itches, and whenever it gets windy or rainy, it feels like sitting on pins and needles..."

Chen An's words continuously battered Cheng Huan's last line of psychological defense!

Seeing that the atmosphere had been built up to just the right pitch, Zhong Miao added the final spark.

Staggering slightly on his injured leg, he took a mouthful of water, walked up to Cheng Huan, and spat it out forcefully.

The spray scattered, evenly soaking into Cheng Huan's chest hair.

"Sprinkling a little water so it won't hurt quite as much later!"

"I agree! I agree to everything! I'll write a letter right now to send back to my father so he can scrape the money together! Just please don't touch me!"

Nearly frightened to the point of wetting his pants, Cheng Huan hurriedly agreed.