The Demon Lords

Chapter 529 38 Blood Race_1

Dawn arrived.

Within the mountain hollow, bodies lay scattered in all directions. Because the wild people had mobilized their entire tribe to fight, the corpses on the ground included men and women, old and young. Consequently, the scene was far more gruesome than a typical battlefield.

Groups of soldiers from Jin land sat around in circles. Some were drinking, some were joking, and others were bandaging their comrades' wounds.

They had endured several muddled months. From the downfall of the Helian and Wenren Families to the trampling of the capital city, they had been reduced to mere auxiliary soldiers.

Finally, by fighting the wild people, they regained their confidence.

That's how armies are. The prestige of countless victories and the title of 'iron army' might not seem to offer practical advantages, but at crucial moments, they often unleash immense power.

An army constantly defeated, no matter how well-supplied with soldiers and provisions, will ultimately be useless. A victorious army, however, naturally carries an air of 'who else but I?'

Liang Cheng once said that using war as training was best. The results were now evident: Zheng Fan finally saw the makings of a true army in these renegade soldiers from Jin land.

During last night's battle, they were indeed the most valorous, leading the charge and immediately attacking the wild people upon encounter. Perhaps they vented all the frustrations accumulated these past days onto the wild people.

And the wild people, as expected, did not disappoint.

One might say their combat strength was poor, but how could a people living in such harsh, impoverished mountains be truly weak?

Yet, they were just that fragile. Much like peasant rebels from the four great nations, they crumbled instantly when facing regular armies.

These wild people were also unlucky. They had been suppressed by the Jin people for so many years. The military strength of Jin State had always been considerable. Although the tripartite division of Jin had existed for many years, both the Helian Family and the Situ Family consistently maintained a policy of exterminating the wild people of Skybreak Mountain, viewing them as 'not of our kind.'

With great difficulty, Jin State had fallen, and the Helian Family was exterminated. But who would have guessed that the Yan people, even more capable and skilled in warfare than the Jin people, would arrive?

Zheng Fan ultimately didn't draw his blade last night. He was well protected. By the time the troops on the periphery fought their way back in, the wild people's army had already collapsed, scattering in all directions, and the battle devolved into a one-sided massacre.

His armored soldiers eagerly pursued them, afraid of missing out on this bloody game. This left Zheng Fan with a feeling akin to 'drawing one's sword only to find no one to fight,' a sense of bewildered anticlimax.

"My lord."

A Ming sat atop a small earthen mound, holding a bulging waterskin and sipping from it delicately.

There should have been experts among the wild people, but in a large-scale battle, unless there were several of Tian Wujing's caliber, they couldn't play a decisive role.

So A Ming had easily taken down two of them, collected their blood, and 'ferried their souls to the afterlife' via his stomach.

"Hmm."

Zheng Fan nodded at A Ming, then couldn't help but yawn.

Back when he followed Li Fusheng south to Qian State, he could endure continuous forced marches without rest. This time, however, perhaps because the enemy was defeated too easily, Zheng Fan couldn't muster much enthusiasm.

Just then, Liang Cheng approached and said with a sigh of resignation, "These men got carried away with the killing. We've captured fewer than a thousand prisoners."

Most were killed, and some escaped into the mountain forests, so the number of captives was far fewer than expected.

"It doesn't matter. Leave some men to clear the battlefield. We'll take another detachment and secure that wild people's village up there first."

Zheng Fan wanted to rest. No matter how crude the wild people's villages were, their leaders enjoyed decent living conditions. Moreover, these Mature Barbarians were even more extravagant in their tastes than the Jin people, if not more so.

Liang Cheng nodded. He personally selected eight hundred barbarian soldiers and accompanied Zheng Fan, A Ming, and Xue Three up the mountain to the fortified camp. Meanwhile, Bald Inheritor and Zuo Jiqian each led a contingent to other wild people's villages further away.

Blindie, with the remaining men, was tasked with clearing the battlefield and gathering the prisoners.

The combat strength of the three wild people settlements had largely been depleted here. Only the old, weak, women, and children remained in the villages, posing virtually no threat. Nevertheless, control needed to be established quickly to prevent any loss of valuables within the villages.

Zheng Fan's contingent had just started up the mountain and sighted the gate of this settlement when an elderly wild man emerged from within.

The elder was dressed in the brocade robes favored by wealthy Jin gentlemen, his large sleeves dragging on the ground.

Zheng Fan reined in his horse, and the barbarian soldiers by his side also halted.

Then, several children ran out from the village, leading a goat.

The elder swiftly took off his robe to reveal the white shirt underneath. He took the goat's leash from a child's hand and continued to slowly approach Zheng Fan's group.

"Heh, even their surrender comes with a sense of ceremony."

Liang Cheng echoed, "Indeed, it does."

You might say the wild people lack culture, yet they can put on such a display. But if you say they have culture, there's little sign of it otherwise.

The old man was presumably the leader of this tribe. Leading the white goat, he approached step by step.

The wild people's children, seeing these barbarian soldiers, grew instinctively afraid and dared not follow any further.

When the distance was less than ten meters, the old man trembled and knelt down, lifting the leash of the goat above his head.

Liang Cheng looked at Zheng Fan and said, "My lord?"

Zheng Fan, however, looked at A Ming. A Ming was still drinking his 'wine.' Seeing Zheng Fan's gaze, he seemed slightly puzzled and then pointed at himself.

Zheng Fan nodded. "I can't always be the one in the spotlight. You are all family to me."

"HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH..." A Ming chuckled, wiping a trickle of crimson from the corner of his mouth.

Xue Three, feigning seriousness, urged, "A Ming, go on! This is our lord's way of nurturing and showing his care for you!"

A Ming turned to Xue Three beside him. "You want this chance for 'further development'?"

Xue Three swayed his upper body, spread his hands, and said shamelessly, "Even a fool knows that with my looks, I could never pass as the boss."

Xue Three was remarkably self-aware, leaving A Ming speechless.

「In the end,」 A Ming spurred his horse forward from the ranks. He sat tall and straight; vampires inherently possess a noble aura. When not with Liang Cheng, A Ming actually appeared quite respectable and dignified.

The old man looked up at A Ming and handed over the rope.

A Ming extended his hand and took the rope.

The old man remained silent, and A Ming was silent too.

Xue Three tilted his head, questioning, "That's it?"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the old man's left palm suddenly flipped. The white goat let out a miserable "BAA!!!!"

A dagger pierced through the goat's abdomen and landed in the old man's palm. The elder, who had been tottering just moments before, underwent an abrupt change in demeanor. With a sudden leap, he shot to A Ming's side, simultaneously plunging the dagger into A Ming's heart and giving it a vicious twist!

The entire sequence was executed in one smooth motion. A red glow flickered over the old man's body, appearing somewhat delayed.

This old man was, shockingly, an Eighth Rank expert. However, his cultivation didn't seem to be that of a pure Martial Cultivator; it was likely an ancestral path of the wild people.

"Holy shit!" Xue Three exclaimed.

Liang Cheng's gaze hardened slightly. Zheng Fan drew a long breath; the old man's preceding movements had an eerie swiftness, giving his target no time to react.

This made Zheng Fan subconsciously ponder: If I had been the one to accept the surrender, even as a Seventh Rank Martial Cultivator, even with Mo Wan on me, would I have been able to react in time to stop that old man's killing blow?

SQUELCH!

The old man yanked the dagger from A Ming's chest. His left hand, like an eagle's talon, gripped A Ming's neck. Seeming to have gone berserk, he roared at Zheng Fan's group, "Come on! Come on! Come on! The soul of the Sacred Tribe is eternal! The glory of the Sacred Tribe will forever illuminate this land and protect her children!"

There were still many old, weak, women, and children in the stockade. This act by the elder was tantamount to signing the death warrant for his kinsmen behind him.

He chose neither to endure humiliation for a greater cause nor to bow and scrape in servility. Instead, he chose to confront the invaders with the fiercest defiance.

Indeed, from the perspective of the wild people in this settlement, the group led by Zheng Fan were undoubtedly invaders.

They demand your surrender, demand your young masters as hostages, demand your wealth, demand your tribe's warriors to serve as their cannon fodder.

And if you refuse? They send troops to conquer you. If that's not an invader, what is?

These three wild people settlements had united to resist, but they failed.

However, what surprised the old man somewhat was that the Yan bastards opposite him showed little panic. They didn't even rush forward in a rage to hack him to pieces as he had anticipated.

The old man roared, "Come on! Come on! Kill me! Kill me! You're good at killing, aren't you? So kill me!"

At this moment, Xue Three, from amidst the troops, suddenly bellowed, "If you've got the guts, try cutting off our general's head first!"

Zheng Fan quickly shot a glare at Xue Three.

Xue Three guiltily ducked his head and covered his mouth.

The old man frowned slightly but still subconsciously clutched the dagger, aiming it at A Ming's head.

Zheng Fan's heart suddenly lurched. He was genuinely terrified that A Ming would die for good if his head was severed!

Just then, A Ming, still held aloft by the old man's grip on his neck, suddenly snapped his eyes open. The aura around him erupted violently!

The blood flowing in the old man's arms suddenly stagnated, causing his hand movements to slow.

A Ming dropped downwards with the momentum. As he fell, he opened his mouth, revealing two fangs, and sank them with an almost graceful movement into the old man's neck.

The old man instinctively tried to circulate his vital energy and blood to resist. However, a bone-chilling coldness instantly flooded his limbs and meridians through the fangs, rendering him completely rigid. He could only hear the sound of his blood being steadily drained from his neck: GULP... GULP... GULP... GULP...

The A Ming of before wouldn't have been capable of such complete suppression. But the A Ming of now had achieved it, precisely in that instant Zheng Fan had been consumed with worry for him.

A Ming lifted his head, an expression of rapturous ecstasy on his face. He looked towards Xue Three in the distance, whose eyes burned with envy, jealousy, and resentment. A smile touched A Ming's lips as he mouthed silently, "Thank you."

Thank you for the assist. I... have advanced.