Chapter 289

“What’s all the noise!”

The stone house door was kicked open, and a beastman, bare-chested, stood in the doorway and bellowed.

The next instant, he gasped sharply, eyes bulging round, his body instinctively staggering back.

Beneath the sky, deep-blue giant wolves surged like a raging tide, pouring black and vast from all directions toward the Shi Jin encampment.

Behind the giant wolves, antelope cavalry advanced in formation, hooves thundering, the earth itself trembling beneath their charge.

The horned beastman barely recovered his voice. He wanted to run and alert the camp’s guard captain, but terror made his legs give out. He toppled to the ground as he turned, trembling like a sieve, and stretched a hand forward:
“En… enemies… the enemy has invaded—”

Thwip!

An arrow struck cleanly into his brow. The beastman fell flat on his back, unable to utter another sound.

At that moment, shadows flickered again at the doorway of the stone house.

Already hidden high in the trees, Qi Bai narrowed his eyes, raising his hand crossbow and fixing the sights on the door, ready to fire at any moment.

Seconds later, a gaunt figure crept out timidly.

Expressionless, Qi Bai shifted the sights off that scarred face and trained it instead on the next stone house door.

When the door swung open, Qi Bai squeezed the trigger. The horned beastman who stepped out never even glimpsed the scene outside before dropping dead to the ground.

“Roar!” “Roar!”

Several furious bellows echoed over the Shi Jin camp.

Qi Bai turned toward the sound. Before the grass huts where the Shi Jin beastmen lived, wolf warriors crouched low in wary stance. Opposite them, a few beastmen were roaring in agony.

Their bodies were covered in ulcerated, rotting skin—but what showed beneath was not flesh and blood, but a sinister metallic gleam.

Soon, they struggled into beast form, eyes blazing with a dreadful frenzy, and charged straight at the surrounding wolves.

“Awooo!”

The great white wolf bared its fangs, giving the order for full assault.

The Silver Moon warriors, long coiled and ready, launched their attack without hesitation, surging toward the Shi Jin beastmen.

Qi Bai spared them only a glance before snapping his attention back to the row of stone houses.

These beastmen becoming Shi Jin might not have been their choice, but such people always existed—those who never turned their blades against the oppressors, but instead became their lapdogs, slaughtering others who shared their suffering.

And these Shi Jin beastmen here were the invaders’ main force in the Wilds. They deserved no sympathy.

“Kill!”

“Kill! Kill!”

The Saint Antelope warriors, long ground down by war, bellowed from their chests. They swung bone blades and instantly clashed with the late-rising Shi Jin beastmen.

Qi Bai reloaded deftly, eyes scanning the stone houses for his next target.

Before infiltrating Wangu, they had scouted the Shi Jin camp. The Shi Jin beastmen lived in huts near the mine pits. Only the overseers Wangu had sent lived here in this little cluster of stone dwellings.

Qi Bai’s bolts were tipped with iron. They might not pierce the hardened bones of Shi Jin, but against ordinary Wangu beastmen, they were more than enough.

That was why he had hidden himself early in a tree overlooking the camp—so he could pick off these petty overseers with ease.

In any battle, the most crucial step was to strip the enemy of command.

By now, fighting had spread across the camp. The beastmen in the stone houses were alert, and moving targets made Qi Bai’s shots harder.

He had brought only twenty bolts. Already he had loosed fifteen, and eight or nine beastmen lay dead on the ground.

But Qi Bai’s focus never wavered—because the camp’s guard captain, his true quarry, had yet to show himself.

The joint Silver Moon–Saint Antelope assault had caught the Shi Jin camp completely off guard.

By the time the first rays of dawn lit the earth, the entire Shi Jin encampment was in their hands.

Qi Bai had already leapt down from the tree. Moving between the stone houses, he recovered arrows while checking the faces of fallen beastmen.

Lang Ze, radiating killing aura, came to his side.

Qi Bai shook his head. “Not him. I was watching these houses the whole time—where could he have gone? Don’t tell me he slipped away…”

Lang Ze reached out and wiped the bloodstains from Qi Bai’s cheek. “It’s fine. We’ll search carefully again.”

Saint Antelope chieftain Ling Qiu scanned the gathered warriors until he spotted them, then strode over in great steps.

His left arm was soaked in blood, wounds ragged—clearly the bite of many sharp teeth. Yet despite the grave injury, joy lit his face, unrestrained:
“This fight—this fight was exhilarating! You two are the strongest beastmen I’ve ever seen!”

Lang Ze ignored the praise, giving orders instead: “Gather all the wounded here. The rest, move the supplies out into the open ground.”

Ling Qiu felt no offense at Lang Ze’s commanding tone. On the contrary, it reassured him, and he immediately began directing the warriors.

Soon, the wounded were settled into stone houses, while Qi Bai and two Saint Antelope half-beasts treated them.

On Qi Bai’s back was medicine brought from Hei Yao. For ease of carrying and preservation, he had powders for external wounds—stag and Great Wind’s recipes—and honey-rolled pellets for internal use. Together, they were enough to handle most non-fatal injuries.

As for the gravely wounded, even the old priest Lu Jian himself would have been helpless.

The Saint Antelope’s treatment was simpler and rougher. They carried water skins made from special hide. No matter where the injury, the cure was always the same: drink. The only difference was that those worse wounded could take an extra mouthful.

Seeing Qi Bai’s curiosity, one half-beast showed him: “This is the Beast God’s blessed water—the same you drank before.”

Wasn’t that the green decoction brewed with the Huishi serpent? Yet what they drank now wasn’t green. Clearly, the recipe varied.

Qi Bai was still mulling this when noise erupted outside the camp.

He stepped out to see a squad of beastmen shifting back to human form. At their head was Lang Zhan, who had been blocking the road. With him were two people who should not have been there.

“Ling Ping, Ling Ta.” The Saint Antelope chieftain frowned. “You two defy my orders?”

Ling Ta lowered his head and said stiffly, “Chieftain, we are Saint Antelope warriors too. We will not shrink back.”

When the chieftain mustered the army, they had been sent to the rear mountain. By the time they returned to camp, the force was already gone.

How could they just sit and wait, letting their chieftain go to battle alone? They had followed the trail into the misty forest.

But neither knew the forest well, and they nearly lost their way—until Lang Huai and the others guided them through.

Ling Qiu saw their defiant faces and felt his anger flare.

But before he could scold them, Lang Zhan smoothed things over with a smile: “This time, we have them to thank. Without them, we wouldn’t have caught every last escapee.”

Qi Bai looked closely at the captured beastmen. He fixed on one.
“You’re the guard captain here.”

No wonder Qi Bai hadn’t found him in the stone houses. The bastard had already tried to sneak out.

Lang Zhan yanked his hair up, forcing his face into view. “Yes. This one. They were running to Wangu to report. Thanks to Lang Ze’s order that we guard the only road back, we spotted them.”

These beastmen, seeing Lang Zhan’s group, had tried to flee toward the Mana Mountains—only to run headlong into Ling Ta and Ling Ping.

As a naturally advanced first-level warrior, Ling Ta had no trouble dealing with a handful of cowards fleeing for their lives. If Lang Zhan hadn’t arrived in time, they might not have been left breathing.

“Yes, yes, I am! I am the guard captain here,” the beastman stammered, his bruised face twitching. “Don’t kill me, don’t kill me!”

Lang Ze crouched, locking eyes with him. “You don’t want to die? Then tell me everything—all your operations and arrangements here. Leave nothing out.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” the captain babbled, nodding frantically. “I’ll tell, I’ll tell!”

With the captain’s directions, they quickly located the Gu Jin already mined from the pits—plus what had been hidden in huts and sheds—at least five or six hundred jin.

Faced with such a trove, Lang Zhan frowned. “What do we do with it?”

They had seen firsthand what Gu Jin did to beastmen. They couldn’t just dump it or bury it—if found again, it would cause more disaster.

Qi Bai thought aloud: “Let’s try burning it. Just be careful not to inhale the smoke.”

Though called “metal,” Gu Jin didn’t quite seem like normal ore. And even if it was metal, fire might still alter its properties. Worth testing.

“Alright.”

While Lang Zhan’s men lit fires, Qi Bai and Lang Ze returned to the mine.

After nearly ten years of Wangu digging, this mountain had been tunneled hundreds of meters deep, dozens of shafts riddling it like a maze.

“The earlier Gu Jin was easier to find,” the captain explained with a sycophant’s grin. “But lately it’s harder. We dug several shafts before striking this vein.”

“What clue did you use to find it?”

“Honestly, none. We just dug deeper where the old sites were.” He puffed with pride. “Gu Jin was first discovered by a little tribe here. They didn’t know its use, only burned it in rituals. Our Grand Wu discovered it could awaken divine blood. That’s why we built this camp.”

Before, when Lang Zhan had questioned other captives, most either could say nothing—like Mali, lost in delirium—or simply didn’t know much.

But this captain was different. As camp overseer, he knew far more than they’d expected.

Most of all, Qi Bai had never seen a beastman with less backbone. They barely had to press him—he spilled everything he knew.

Qi Bai asked, “What was that tribe called?”

The captain grimaced. “Just a little tribe. No use asking—the tribe’s long dead. Great sirs, are you from the Upper City? I’ve managed this site for years. Keep me alive, I can keep finding Gu Jin for you.”

His narrow eyes gleamed. These two were dressed finer than even the Grand Wu or the emissaries from the Upper City. Surely they came from an even higher city.

If so, and if he could win their favor, not only could he live—he might even gain more wealth.

He had faith in his cunning. After all, hadn’t it carried him this far? Without being even a first-level warrior, yet still securing such a fat post.

At that moment, a great tongue of flame roared skyward from outside the mine, lighting the night as if to pierce the heavens.

Qi Bai’s lips curved. “So it burns. Good—that’s all we need.”

The captain nearly fainted. “B-burn? Burn what?”

He stumbled toward the entrance, arms outspread as if to throw himself on the flames. “The Gu Jin! My Gu Jin! Don’t burn it!!”

But his wailing was drowned by the cheers of Silver Moon and Saint Antelope alike.

This cursed thing—better to burn it all.