Elven cultivators

The moonlight hung low, casting a cold, iron-like gray-white hue over the fields.

The wind blew from the edge of the wasteland, carrying the scent of dry earth and withered grass, and swept past the figures standing silently on the hilltop.

Anton stood with his hands behind his back, his robes fluttering slightly in the night breeze, his eyes calmly gazing into the distance.

Behind him, more than twenty disciples of Taichu City stood scattered, their backs straight, their eyes all fixed on the camp nestled in the valley.

The campsite was surrounded by a fence made of rough wooden nails. Every few steps along the inside of the fence, there was a torch. The orange-red flames flickered in the night wind, casting long and short shadows of the tents and trucks.

You can vaguely see figures moving around in the firelight, their steps leisurely, not at all alert.

Occasionally, a few indistinct shouts could be heard, but they were quickly swallowed up by the wind.

Lucius stood half a step to Anton's right and suddenly whispered, "Teacher, let me be the vanguard when we make our move."

He had finally gotten a chance to test his sword skills, and he didn't want to miss it.

If the teacher were to intervene, the battle would most likely end in a single exchange.

However, after waiting for a while, Lucius did not hear a reply from his teacher.

He looked up in confusion and saw a strange smile on the teacher's lips.

Noticing Lucius's gaze, Anton said meaningfully, "Don't worry, you'll have plenty of opportunities to test your sword skills later. But for now, let's not rush into anything. Let's watch the show first."

The disciples looked at each other, their eyes filled with confusion.

What kind of show could there be in a slave trader's camp in the middle of nowhere?

But no one said anything; since the clan chief said to wait, then they waited.

Lucius, however, had a sudden inspiration.

He knew how astonishing the range of a Golden Core cultivator's divine sense could be; perhaps his teacher had discovered something.

Despite his doubts, Lucius didn't ask any further questions. He turned to look at the camp and waited quietly.

……

Deep within the camp.

A drab gray tent stood right next to the back of the camp, with several thick wooden stakes standing outside, chains attached to the stakes, the ends of the chains dangling into the tent.

The air was thick with the stench of sweat and blood, mixed with the damp, musty smell of the straw mats.

The flickering lamplight barely illuminated a corner of the tent.

A boy huddled on a haystack.

He wasn't very tall, but he had a well-proportioned and sturdy frame, and his back was covered with a layer of short golden hair.

His facial features were clearly defined, with a straight nose and slightly deep-set eyes. His face was somewhere between a human and an ape, but it did not appear rugged. Instead, it had a kind of uprightness that was close to that of a human.

But it was a golden-backed ape-man.

However, the ape-man boy was in a very bad state at the moment.

His body was covered with crisscrossing bloodstains and bruises. Several whip marks on his arms had not yet scabbed over, and the edges were an unnatural dark red. His muscles would occasionally tense up because of the wounds.

A half-elf girl was squatting beside the ape-man boy, her head bowed, gently applying a clump of crushed grass to the deepest wound on his shoulder with a soft and steady motion.

The firelight illuminated her profile, outlining her beautiful features.

However, this face, which should have been captivating at first glance, now exuded a lifeless, grayish aura.

"hiss……"

The boy gasped sharply, his shoulders involuntarily hunching over, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

He gritted his teeth and cursed, "These beasts are really ruthless... Once I escape this hellhole, I'll make them taste this kind of pain too."

The half-elf girl grabbed a clean strip of cloth from the side and skillfully wrapped his wound.

After bandaging her wound, she withdrew her hand and said calmly, "Don't even think about it. This place is heavily guarded; we can't escape."

"If you resist, they'll only beat you more fiercely. I advise you to stay put and not cause yourself any more trouble."

The boy gritted his teeth, his face filled with grief and indignation, and said, "Those beasts killed so many of our people, I will never give in like this!"

The girl didn't reply. After treating her wound, she stood up from the haystack and turned to walk towards the other end of the tent.

There were several more severely injured slaves waiting for her over there.

As soon as she walked away, a member of the Wilderness tribe moved closer to the boy and whispered, "You just arrived, right? Don't blame her for ignoring you."

The boy was taken aback, and asked in a low voice, "What's wrong?"

Wildling glanced at the half-elf girl's retreating figure, lowering his voice even further: "Her parents were beaten to death in front of her by the slave hunters because they wanted to escape with her. If it weren't for her beauty, which could fetch a high price, those beasts probably wouldn't have let her go."

After hearing this, the boy was stunned for a long time. When he looked at the half-elf girl again, his gaze became particularly complicated.

No wonder all the other slaves were beaten, but this half-elf girl was never mistreated.

But this was clearly not a good thing for her.

After a while, the girl finished bandaging the wounds of the others and sat back down on the haystack next to the boy.

She hugged her knees, not looking at him, and sat there quietly, her gaze fixed on the empty ground, as if looking at something very far away.

After hesitating for a long time, the boy finally spoke up: "Don't worry, my father will definitely come to save me. I'll have him take you away with him."

The girl turned her head and glanced at him, her eyes empty, like a frozen pool of stagnant water.

She said nothing, turned back, and focused her gaze on the ground again.

The boy was about to speak again when a deafening roar suddenly came from outside the tent.

Immediately following was a cacophony of shouts, clanging metal, and roars, instantly shattering the silence of the night.

The boy's eyes lit up instantly. He struggled to sit up, his voice filled with barely suppressed excitement: "It's my father! They must have come to save me!"

The slaves inside the tent looked up, a glimmer of light appearing on their previously numb faces.

The noise grew closer, and it seemed the attackers had rushed to within a short distance of the tent.

At this point, even those who had been lying motionless in the corners involuntarily straightened their backs.

The half-elf girl remained seated, without even raising her head.

Just then, the tent flap was flung open, and two members of the slave-hunting team strode in, carrying gleaming steel knives in their hands, their cold gazes sweeping over the restless crowd inside the tent.

"What's all the noise about?"

One of the slave hunters at the front raised his knife and gestured towards the crowd, coldly cursing.

"If you don't want to die, you'd better stay quiet!"

Another member of the slave-hunting team scanned the crowd and finally landed on the ape-man boy who had already sat up straight.

Looking at the boy's forced, barely concealed anticipation, he smirked, revealing a contemptuous smile.

"Stop dreaming. Do you really think someone can save you? We anticipated that some fools would come to their deaths, so we set up an ambush outside. Those idiots just happened to walk right in."

The contemptuous words were like a bucket of cold water, instantly extinguishing the faint hope that had just ignited in the tent.

The backs of the slaves who had just straightened up collapsed again.

The ape-man boy's face turned deathly pale, his voice trembling: "You're talking nonsense... My father is at the peak of the Gold Saint realm; no one in your camp is his match!"

Upon hearing this, the two members of the slave-hunting team exchanged a glance and then burst into laughter.

The mocking laughter was the best answer to the ape-man boy's doubts.

The last bit of color drained from the latter's face.

Just then, another deafening roar erupted, accompanied by a violent gust of wind that ripped the curtains off, revealing the night sky and camp illuminated by the firelight.

The boy subconsciously looked up, his pupils suddenly contracting.

In the open space in the center of the camp, a dozen or so golden-backed apes were surrounded by hundreds of slave hunters.

They formed a circle back to back, brandishing their weapons and desperately resisting, but there were simply too many enemies, and they could only struggle to hold on.

The slave hunters surged forward and retreated like a tide, and with each charge, the golden-backed ape-men were wounded.

At the very center of the battle, high above, three figures were locked in a fierce melee.

Two of the figures were tall, robust golden-backed apes.

A person holding a thick, long totem.

A man wielding a long metal rod.

The two attacked alternately, one on the left and one on the right, with a heavy and powerful rhythm and an impenetrable offensive.

Their opponent, however, was a burly orc with dark gray skin.

He stood in the center of the intertwined attacks of the two golden-backed ape-men, his arms hanging slightly at his sides, a layer of grayish-brown halo flowing across his skin like solidified molten stone.

As the totem pole came crashing down, he raised his hand to block it. With a muffled thud, the pole slid off course, causing the ape-man holding it to stumble.

As the long staff swept towards him, he casually flipped his hand, the edge of his palm striking the middle of the staff, and the heavy metal staff bounced back like a tree branch deflected by a mountain wall.

Throughout, the orcs appeared completely at ease.

Despite possessing the power to overwhelm two golden-backed ape-men, he only defended and did not attack, clearly toying with them.

"Stop struggling, Oru."

The orc looked at the golden-backed ape-man holding the totem, a cold smile spreading across his face.

"Hand over your tribal totem obediently, and I might spare your lives."

Oru did not answer, but gritted his teeth and mustered all his strength to attack the enemy again.

However, his heart sank.

They had originally thought that tonight's surprise attack would catch the enemy off guard and rescue their son.

Unexpectedly, the other party was well-prepared and had already set a trap, just waiting for him to fall into it.

For this reason, they even went so far as to send out a legendary expert.

It's obvious they want to wipe them all out!

The current situation is undoubtedly extremely unfavorable to them.

In the distance, the ape-man boy watched this scene with a look of horror on his face.

He recognized the two figures.

The one holding the totem pole is his father.

The one wielding the metal staff was the last remaining elder of the tribe.

Since the chieftain's death in battle, the two of them have become the strongest fighters in the tribe.

But now, they couldn't even make that orc move an inch.

Even if the boy had a shallow understanding of combat, he could still see how vast the difference in strength between the two sides was.

That orc... is definitely a legendary rank!