Chapter 310

Hei Yao warriors cut through like a blade of bamboo; the beastmen attacking outside the city walls were quickly scattered.

Chai Ding, bristling with arrows, roared in defiance, forcing back the dozen warriors encircling him. But this was nothing more than a dying struggle.

He glared bitterly at the towering walls before him.

Impossible. They could not lose!

Their army numbered nearly ten thousand—more than the population of an ordinary lower city!

And these were not slave-rabble troops. Every horned beastman here had endured the strictest training and selection of the upper cities.

Who could have imagined that such an army—among the most elite on the Beastman Continent—would be utterly powerless before Hei Yao City?

And he, Chai Ding, a God Envoy of War with hardly an equal even in the upper cities, was now besieged by mere first-level warriors.

“Awroo!”

With a savage lunge, Chai Ding snapped at his enemies. Even if he died, he would drag some down with him!

Watching him falter, Mao Fu, pale-faced, croaked: “God Envoy, we should retre—cough, cough…”

Before he could finish, a hand seized his throat, lifting him off the ground.

“Retreat?” a man’s low voice rumbled. “I told you. I don’t want to hear that word.”

Mao Guang grabbed at the hand throttling Mao Fu, pleading, “God Envoy, spare him! Don’t hurt the Fu God Envoy!” But what strength had a sub-beastman against a warrior?

With a squeeze—crack—the struggling ceased, Mao Fu’s body limp and silent.

“Useless.”

The man tossed the corpse aside like trash, then lifted his head toward the horned beastman staring coldly at him. A grin stretched across his lips. “You must be the master of this city?”

Lang Ze: “Cang God Envoy.”

Cang God Envoy’s face hid in shadow. “So you know me.”

Lang Ze of course remembered—the beastman who once disguised himself as envoy chief of Qingchi City. He would never forget, no matter how many years passed.

But he hadn’t expected this man to walk willingly into his jaws.

Fifteen years ago, Cang God Envoy destroyed Silvermoon. Fifteen years later, he dared covet Hei Yao. This time, he would not leave alive.

Sensing Lang Ze’s killing intent, Cang God Envoy sneered. “Since you know who I am, then you know—today is the day you die!”

Chai Ding’s death was meaningless, Mao Fu’s even less. So long as he slew this city’s master, the city would be his.

He would abandon Ji City, remain here, and transform this beautiful place into the fourth upper city beneath Beast God City!

He would not lose. No one could make him admit defeat.

“Awrooo!”

A hoarse roar tore his priestly robe apart. In its place appeared a massive, one-horned red-backed jackal.

Green light gleamed in its eyes, jagged fangs bared, and its beast form rivaled Chai Ding’s third-rank strength.

His guards scattered instantly. They were first-level warriors, strong enough in lesser tribes, but nothing before a third-rank warrior.

Cang God Envoy might have worn a priest’s robes for years, but none forgot—this was no mere ritualist. He was a horned beastman who rose as a God Envoy through battle.

They sensed Hei Yao’s city lord was no weakling. Yet once their God Envoy fought, the white wolf could not prevail.

The red-back jackal growled and lunged at Lang Ze.

But Lang Ze stood unshaken. As it closed, he slipped aside with speed beyond sight. In that instant, a massive white wolf materialized, hurling itself at the jackal.

The clash of wolf and jackal was no field for ordinary horned beastmen.

Against absolute strength, technique meant little.

Biting, slamming—each exchange spilled blood and flesh.

When they finally broke apart, the giant wolf’s fur was so stained it was barely white. He panted heavily, close to collapse.

Beastmen watching thought Cang God Envoy had won—until the jackal convulsed violently. Its limbs buckled beneath its weight, and with a crash it fell, unable even to hold its beast form.

Only then did the guards notice gaping wounds torn in its flank, blood streaming until the ground pooled crimson.

“Howl!” “Howl!”

Several jackals wailed desperately, calling others to protect their envoy. But when they turned, their army’s former might had vanished.

What little force remained had dissolved into flight. None dared continue the fight.

“Awoo!”

Lang Ji’s Silvermoon warriors slammed into any who drew near Lang Ze, scattering them like straw.

Lang Ze demanded: “Back then, who was the old God Envoy that gathered you and led the Godblood Revival? Who ordered the attempt on Lingfeng God Envoy?”

“You want to know that?”

Cang God Envoy’s face twisted with a mad grin, coughing blood. “Ha… ha… you’ll never know. Never…”

Lang Ji seized him, raging: “Who was it?! Speak!”

“Hahaha… Anger, pain, regret—Silvermoon filth! You will never… never be free…”

“Who said they’ll never know the truth?”

A voice came from beneath a nearby tree.

Cang God Envoy stiffened, turning to see Mao Guang clutching the warped corpse of Mao Fu, eyes cold and eerie. “You… what could you know?”

“I know more than you imagine.”

Mao Guang muttered, “Do you know the origin of the ‘Godblood Revival’?”

He didn’t wait for answer, gaze fixed on Cang God Envoy. “You surely don’t, else you wouldn’t hunt for that old God Envoy. No matter. I’ll tell you slowly.”

“Shut up!” Cang God Envoy rasped, breath ragged.

Mao Guang savored his fury. Shielding Mao Fu’s body from the wind, he spoke evenly.

Over two hundred years ago…

The seven great clans united to overthrow the Xianling. They thought seizing the Central Temple meant seizing the continent. They would be the noblest bloodlines.

But within decades, they learned: without Xianling foresight, the temple’s control slipped.

To consolidate power, they built three upper cities under Beast God City. All other cities were made subordinate. Priests were dispatched to govern and report back to the High Priests.

But distance eroded their grip. More and more cities refused tithes or summons. The temple’s decline was inevitable; the upper cities only delayed it.

Some among the seven clans believed that to restore devotion, to live again off tribute, they needed foresight returned.

But they had long since slaughtered every last Xianling in fear of revenge. To gain such power again was impossible.

Until a child named Xie, in an accident, awakened prophecy. Weak compared to the Xianling, but enough to lead his tribe to hunting grounds. They hailed him “Child of the Beast God.”

When Xie foresaw his tribe’s destruction by the upper city, they panicked, fled by night.

That abnormality drew attention. The upper city was then purging defectors. Their flight enraged it. The tribe was wiped out. The Red Jackals, who executed them, discovered the possibility of reviving godblood in other tribes.

Mao Guang at last turned to Lang Ze. “The Red Jackals conceived the perfect scheme. Without godblood themselves, they’d find its legacy, control beastmen who bore it, and surpass even the Xianling—becoming masters of the seven clans. That is the origin of ‘Godblood Revival.’”

“Since then, it has never ceased in secret.”

He sneered at Cang God Envoy. “You said they’d never know truth. Right—you never had it. The whole Red Jackal tribe are the culprits. Even without that old God Envoy, even without you, others remain. They’ll never have a true answer.”

“Lies!” Cang God Envoy forced himself upright, trembling. “You seek to damn my tribe!”

Mao Guang laid Mao Fu’s corpse down, crouched before him. “If it’s lies, then tell us the truth. Go on—say it!”

Cang God Envoy growled, but no words came.

Mao Guang laughed coldly. Gripping his throat as he had Mao Fu’s, he snarled, “You deserve death—all of you!”

Lang Ji moved to intervene, but Lang Ze raised his hand, halting him.

“For you, Fu God Envoy, I’ve avenged you—hahaha!”

At last Mao Guang released him. Cang God Envoy’s stiff corpse hit the ground.

After a day sealed, the city gates finally opened.

Qi Bai rushed out first—only to catch Lang Ze’s backward glance.

Cang God Envoy’s fall had broken their enemy. But for Hei Yao warriors, the fight was not over.

Fleeing foes, enemy bases—these needed pursuit.

Qi Bai clenched his fur robe. Lang Ze was wounded—he knew it. He longed to call him back, beg him to rest.

But how many of their warriors had not been hurt? Lang Ze was city lord, strongest of Hei Yao. His duty could not be shirked.

“Great Priest, w-what do we do now?”

Qi Bai drew a deep breath. If Lang Ze could not stop, neither could he. He was Hei Yao’s Great Priest—the tribe needed him.

He forced down his tears, turned calmly. “You—fetch carts from the city. Tell the hospital to prepare for the wounded.”

“Yes!”

The stunned warriors jolted to life and sprinted into the city.

Lu Ming, realizing Qi Bai’s gaze was on him, finally reacted. Most Hei Yao’s healers were of his giant deer clan. “I’ll gather every healer at once!”

“Have Lu Teng and Diao Lan bring the best to this gate. Some must treat severe wounds immediately—”

Suddenly a bloody hand clutched Qi Bai’s ankle, bone visible. Before Lu Ming could warn, Qi Bai’s bone blade flashed down, silencing the enemy.

“What are you staring for? Go!”

“Y-yes!”

Lu Ming ran, glancing back once.

Qi Bai was already moving through the corpses, crouching by each wounded clansman, soothing them. His face was pale, but he buried his fear deep.

They had grown used to relying on him. But they forgot—he was still barely an adult.

Sniffling, Lu Ming sprinted harder. Qi Bai and Lang Ze bore so much—he could not fail them.

Qi Bai worked the battlefield all day. But the ones who returned were not Lang Ze’s force—only three carts brought by Hu Xiao.

Shu jumped down, dragging several bound beastmen. “Bao Bai, these were skulking around. They’re no Hei Yao. I grabbed them for you. No need to thank me—Qingchi is Hei Yao’s friend.”

Hu Xiao leaned in, murmuring details of Qingchi’s people.

Their arrival had been suspicious. Shu had meant to wait in hiding days longer, until Hei Yao cleared the field. But Lang Ze’s sortie flushed them out. He had no choice but to show himself.

Qi Bai’s smile was thin. “Young City Lord Shu truly keeps his word. But Hei Yao is strained right now—we can’t host you properly.”

“Haha, no need, no need! Leave our goods and we can go. We’ll return when you’re free.”

“You are honored guests. Even if busy, we can’t be discourteous.” Qi Bai stepped aside, opening the way. “This time, Young City Lord must stay some days.”

Shu forced a laugh under the eyes of watchful warriors. “That… would be fine.”

Qi Bai left battlefield matters to Diao Lan, and escorted Shu into the city.

Seeing a bustling district, Shu whispered to Hu Xiao, “What’s that?”

Hu Xiao only rolled his eyes, ignoring him.

Qi Bai answered lightly, “That is our hospital. You must have seen last night’s battle—we have many wounded, now receiving treatment.”

Shu stared, astonished. In every city he knew, healing arts were jealously hoarded by temples and priests. A place devoted solely to healing… he had never heard of such a thing.

“If anyone in your party is hurt, they may also receive care there.”

They soon reached the end of the trade street.

Shu blinked. “We’re not lodging where we did last time?”

Qi Bai shook his head. “This is Hei Yao’s guesthouse, built for our visitors. Whenever you come, you may stay here.”

“How can we trouble you to build us such a house? Any place would do—”

“It’s not free.”

Shu froze. “What?”

Qi Bai nodded. “You’re right—it cost us much to build. So these guesthouses charge rent. We have deluxe, standard, and shared rooms. Young City Lord may inspect and choose as you like.”