The Wood Elf Village had been transformed into a fiery hell.
Smoke billowed, mixed with a choking smell of char, and the raging fire, like a venomous snake, devoured ancient trees and the remnants of wooden houses.
On the main road north of the village, Yang Di, Zhang Song, and Zhang Bo, surrounded by over a dozen scarred Wood Elf Sword Dancers, stumbled their way towards the ancient Treehouse, towering like an apartment building, in the center.
Deherim’s Khergit Mounted Archers had them locked, and sharp arrows rained down like a storm, tearing through the air, each arrow taking the life of a guard.
Zhang Bo’s face was ashen, his throat too dry to utter a sound.
One of Yang Di’s hands gripped his arm like an iron vice, while the other held a dripping dagger—Zhang Song’s blood.
Just moments ago, Zhang Song had turned to order the Wood Elf Sword Dancers to cover their retreat, buying them time.
But everything happened too fast.
A twisted madness flashed in Yang Di’s eyes, and suddenly, his hand rose and fell!
With a muffled thud, the dagger accurately pierced the base of Zhang Song’s right thigh, blood gushing out, splashing onto the burning leaves, instantly licked into black smoke by the flames.
“Ah—!”
Zhang Song let out a suppressed roar of pain, his body losing balance, staggering and falling to the ground.
He curled up on the cold ground, clutching his severely injured thigh, blood gushing from between his fingers, soaking his robes, mixing with the dirt into a glaring pool of crimson.
Zhang Bo witnessed this scene and froze in shock.
His pupils suddenly contracted to pinpricks, his breathing stopped, and his heart felt as if it had been brutally pierced by an ice pick.
“No… impossible!” he murmured, his voice hoarse and broken.
In that instant, Yang Di’s cold words reached him, like a venomous snake slithering into his ear:
“Zhang Song! Block these Mounted Archers for me! Your life was saved by me! This position in Green Leaf Group was also given by me! Now, it’s time to repay—use your blood to buy me this time!”
Yang Di’s voice was hoarse and resolute, without the slightest hesitation.
He didn’t even glance at Zhang Song on the ground, his gaze fixed on the Treehouse ahead, as if it were his last hope for a comeback.
Zhang Bo’s heart instantly turned cold.
A chill shot from his feet to the top of his head, freezing his veins, making him feel as if his internal organs were being crushed by ice.
He had never imagined Yang Di’s ruthlessness would be so blatant.
The Yang Di who had always valued integrity, the leader he had once revered as a god, was now using “kindness” as a knife to carve flesh.
His eyes suddenly turned red.
Not the furious crimson, but a desperate scarlet, bloodshot like a spiderweb, tears uncontrollably welling in his eyes.
The world distorted in his vision: the burning village, the fallen Zhang Song, the ruthless Yang Di… everything seemed so absurd!
Zhang Song struggled to lift his head, not looking at Yang Di, nor at Zhang Bo.
Those eyes, usually wise and calm, now held only thick, dead ashes.
His eye sockets were bloodshot, tears silently streamed down, mixing with the bloodstains and soot on his face, hitting the ground and turning into mud splatters.
He propped himself up with trembling hands, forcing himself onto one knee, his voice hoarse as if squeezed from the depths of hell: “Yang Di… I understand… This kindness… I will repay.”
He suddenly turned his head and roared at the five remaining Wood Elf Sword Dancers: “Brothers! Cover our retreat with me! Buy time for Lord Yang Di! Kill—!”
His roar was mournful like a wail, full of the resolve to die.
A guard tried to help him, but Zhang Song pushed him away with a palm.
He didn’t draw his blade, just let the blood gush from his thigh, as if this body no longer belonged to him.
The rage in Zhang Bo’s chest finally erupted.
Zhang Song’s care over the years, the comfort in the late nights, the open and hidden attacks he had fended off for him in Green Leaf Group—scene after scene flooded his mind.
The sight before him drove him mad!
He suddenly broke free from Yang Di’s grip, pointed at the despairing Zhang Song on the ground, and began to curse loudly, his voice hoarse and tearing from excessive emotion:
“Yang Di! You beast! Open your dog eyes and look at him—Zhang Song! How many years has he risked his life for you? He’s staked his life on you! Look at the blood he’s shedding, my heart is shattered, and you still talk about some bullshit kindness? Can kindness be repaid with a life?!”
He turned to Zhang Song, tears uncontrollably gushing: “Song Ge! Snap out of it! This bastard stabbed you and threw you here like trash! Is he worthy of your life? Bah! Is he worthy?! Think about it—how did you treat him all these years? Which step of Green Leaf Group wasn’t carried by you? Do you remember? That year, when the Pig-Headed People from Diesel Company raided, you blocked three blows for him! That first year, when resources were scarce, you shared your share of spirit realm food with him! You’re just a damn fool! Does he deserve you?”
Yang Di, however, grabbed Zhang Bo’s wrist back, with such force it almost crushed his bones, a cold calculation in his sneer: “Zhang Bo, do you, a traitor, have the right to criticize? If we don’t block these Mounted Archers, we’ll all die! The grand plan is ruined… The Ancient Tree is right there! I need this chance to turn things around!”
He scanned his surroundings; the Kujit horses’ hooves were getting closer, arrows flying like locusts.
A Wood Elf guard was shot through the throat and fell, but Yang Di ignored him, just desperately dragging Zhang Bo: “Zhang Song is willing to repay, that’s his debt of gratitude! You traitor, shut up! One more word, and I’ll bleed you dry too!”
Hearing Zhang Bo’s roar, Zhang Song’s tears flowed even more fiercely.
He slowly raised his tear-filled eyes, gave Zhang Bo a last look, a bitter smile on his lips, but said nothing.
Under the pressure of Yang Di’s command, he was like a walking corpse, speaking in a low, hoarse voice to the remaining guards: “Don’t mind me… Charge the cavalry formation!”
The guards cried out in grief and indignation, drawing their scimitars and lunging at the pursuing Mounted Archers.
The bloody battle erupted instantly—
The rear guard turned into a meat grinder, the Mounted Archers’ arrows and scimitars tearing through the air.
And Zhang Song remained kneeling in the pool of blood, motionless, staring blankly at the burning sky.
Yang Di took the opportunity to drag Zhang Bo, kicking away a pile of sawdust blocking their way, and forcefully pulled Zhang Bo, rushing towards the shadow of the Treehouse.
Zhang Bo stumbled, looking back in Zhang Song’s direction.
He saw Zhang Song’s frail figure swaying in the rain of arrows, tears mixed with blood sliding down, like an abandoned stone sculpture.
The Khergit Mounted Archers’ horses swept over like a tide, Zhang Song’s voice drowned in the battle cry: “A-Bo… run… see tomorrow for me…” His whisper shattered, his figure obscured by the warhorses.
And the scimitars and spears raised high by the human Mounted Archers.
“Song Ge!”
The crimson tears in Zhang Bo’s eyes finally fell.
His heart, like this burning village, was completely reduced to ashes.
But Yang Di’s hand, stained with Zhang Song’s blood, gripped Zhang Bo’s wrist like a branding iron, dragging him like a dead dog towards the shadow of the Treehouse.
Burning sawdust lashed his face, and behind him, the whistling arrows of the Khergit Mounted Archers were like the breath of death.
Zhang Bo stumbled, his gaze fixed on the gradually shrinking figure in the pool of blood—Zhang Song, kneeling in the sea of fire, propped up by his blade, letting arrows whiz past his ears, motionless, only his tears, mixed with blood, glinting blindingly in the firelight.
“Song Ge—!” Zhang Bo’s roar was choked in the thick smoke, his throat burning with a tearing pain.
“Save your strength for escaping, traitor!” Yang Di’s sneer pierced his eardrums like an ice pick: “If it weren’t for you, how would Green Leaf Group have fallen to such a state?!”
“I’m not a traitor!”
Zhang Bo suddenly broke free from the blood-stained hand, his crimson eyes almost spitting fire, “Yang Di! Ask yourself, with a clear conscience—which step did I, Zhang Bo, not risk my life for Green Leaf Group?!”
Yang Di didn’t stop, but slammed his hand back onto his arm, with such force it seemed to crush his bones: “Risk your life? Was the grand plan failing at every step also risking your life? Were those ‘coincidences’ on the city wall also risking your life?!”
Zhang Bo was pulled, stumbling, sharp stones scraping his knees, but it couldn’t suppress the volcano of grievance in his chest.
He stared at Yang Di’s profile, illuminated by the firelight.
This face he had once sworn to follow to death now held only distorted madness.
Suddenly, he erupted, letting out a long-suppressed, hoarse cry: “The city wall warning was a coincidence?! Did I use my life for a prophecy spell just to harm you?! That night, when the east city wall had no soldiers, you didn’t attack, but when it had soldiers, you attacked! But what about you?! You hid behind the beheading squad, not even daring to show your face! Where were you when the heavy cavalry charged in? Were you calculating how to use Zhang Song as a shield?!”
Yang Di’s pupils contracted sharply, but his dragging motion became even more brutal: “Shut up! If it weren’t for your early warning, Shen Mu would have died in the main building long ago—”
“What does the failed ambush in the main building have to do with me?!” Zhang Bo choked on the smoke and dust, laughing wildly, but his laughter was more desolate than crying, “Do you really think Shen Mu is a fool? He saw through the beheading squad’s movements early on, which is why he hid in the main building! I risked backlash to prophesy ‘unidentified crisis’ to draw away the guards, wasn’t that creating an opportunity for you?! But the beheading squad didn’t even touch the main building’s gate before they were blocked in the corridor—that’s because you were useless! Not because I betrayed you!”
A flaming arrow grazed Yang Di’s scalp, and he abruptly pushed Zhang Bo down behind a charred tree stump.
Zhang Bo gasped, his nails digging into the hot charcoal, blood and tears tracing paths down his cheeks:
“As for reinforcements… ha! You blame Shen Mu for the convenient timing of the reinforcements?”
He suddenly grabbed Yang Di’s collar, every word laced with poison: “You said it yourself during the negotiations that night! ‘Deherim doesn’t care about terms, surrender or destruction, choose one!’ It was you who were unwilling to admit defeat! It was your delusion of using the Ancient Tree to turn the tide that brought about this disaster! And now you have the nerve to pin the blame on me?! Yang Di! If you had just listened to Zhang Song’s ‘know when to quit,’ would we have been completely wiped out?!”
Yang Di’s eyes finally flickered with a hint of wavering, but it was immediately submerged by deeper brutality: “It’s just about who wins and who loses! Once I enter the Treehouse and awaken the Ancient Tree—”
“To hell with your Ancient Tree!”
Zhang Bo elbowed him away, pointing at the dying figure swaying in the rain of arrows in the distance, screaming, “Zhang Song is still kneeling there, blocking arrows for you! His blood is almost dry, and he’s still remembering your kindness! Yang Di, tell me—”
His voice suddenly choked, and a chasm of despair opened in his blood-red eyes, “Am I risking my life to be loyal to a hero… or a venomous snake that sucks its brothers’ blood dry and then kicks them into a fiery pit?!”
Zhang Bo’s questioning pierced Yang Di’s last remnants of sanity like a sharp blade.
Looking at the “traitor” before him, once considered a confidant, now filled with disappointment and anger, Yang Di’s surging unwillingness, frustration, and immense hatred for his ruined empire instantly shattered his facade.
The Wood Elf Village trembled amidst the whistling arrows and the sounds of burning and explosions, the thundering hooves of the Khergit Mounted Archers approaching like a death knell.
“Shut up! Useless!”
Yang Di roared, cutting off Zhang Bo’s accusations, his distorted face grotesque in the flickering firelight, “Without your self-proclaimed ‘warning,’ Shen Mu would have died long ago! It was you who misled my blade again and again in Deherim’s castle!”
The last shred of hope was shattered; Yang Di understood that only death remained between them.
Instead of keeping this uncontrollable, potentially “treacherous” hidden danger to drag him down on his way to the Ancient Tree, it was better to personally sever all shackles!
The furious decision was made in a flash of lightning.
There was no longer any hesitation in Yang Di’s eyes; the ruthlessness forged by blood and fire completely consumed his body and mind.
He took advantage of Zhang Bo’s moment of shock and grief over Zhang Song’s dying state, his left hand gripping Zhang Bo’s shoulder blade like an iron clamp, his right arm exploding with all its accumulated strength, the blood-stained dagger he had held tightly suddenly raised, then transformed into a cold arc of light—
Thud!
The blade pierced Zhang Bo’s left chest precisely and cruelly!
Warm blood instantly gushed out, staining Zhang Bo’s wide, astonished eyes and Yang Di’s blood-smeared, frenzied wrist.
Excruciating pain and the suffocation of impending death instantly seized Zhang Bo; he stared incredulously at the hilt of the dagger embedded in his chest, then looked at Yang Di’s pupils, burning with destructive fire, utterly devoid of humanity.
“Ugh… ugh…” Broken sounds escaped his throat, Zhang Bo’s body uncontrollably slumped down, his life force rapidly draining with the brutal wound on his chest.
At this moment, he completely saw Yang Di’s true face.
This was not some “hero” at all, but merely a… venomous snake, who would not hesitate to sacrifice anyone for survival and a futile chance to turn the tide!
“Die, you fool! Take your ‘loyalty’ and feed it to the dogs!”
Yang Di roared, mercilessly pulling out the dagger.
Blood spurted like a fountain, splashing onto his distorted face.
He didn’t even bother to glance at Zhang Bo, slumped in the dust, his pupils beginning to dilate; he had only one thought in his mind.
Rush into the Treehouse!
Awaken the Ancient Tree!
Only that existence, harboring the power of the plane, could help him turn the tables, could make that damn Shen Mu and Deherim pay a bloody price!
“Those who block me, die!”
He roared, like a trapped beast breaking free from its cage, kicking away Zhang Bo’s limp body, the dagger stained with both their blood wildly hacking at non-existent obstacles in front of him, sprinting towards the ancient Treehouse, which stood silently like a giant beast in the center of the fire and slaughter.
He took only one thing—the dagger stained with Zhang Bo’s heart blood, as if this blood could be the final sacrifice needed to awaken the Ancient Tree.
Behind him were the dying Zhang Bo, the broken body of Zhang Song, about to be submerged by Kujit iron hooves, and the burning, wailing, doomed Wood Elf Village.
Yang Di’s silhouette twisted and elongated in the soaring flames, like the last madness cast into an endless abyss. (End of Chapter)
