Great Wilderness Demon Lord

"Pfft!"

The spear tip pierced through the one-eyed man's chest, its momentum still strong, lifting him off his horse and throwing him more than two zhang away before he slammed heavily to the ground, twitching twice before going still.

The whole process takes only a breath.

The remaining bandits then reacted, roaring as they swarmed forward. Xiao Yunlan reined in his horse and spun around, his spear sweeping across the battlefield like a wheel.

In a single encounter, three bandits were swept off their horses, their necks twisted, clearly beyond saving.

Zhao Meng had already led his troops to attack.

Fifty valiant soldiers were like wolves among sheep; where swords flashed, blood splattered.

These were all veterans from their respective battalions, and they killed the bandits without any hesitation.

In a short while, most of the twenty-odd mounted bandits were dead or wounded, and the remaining five or six were terrified and turned to flee.

Xiao Yunlan removed the hard bow from the saddle, nocked an arrow, drew the string, and released his fingers.

"Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—"

Three arrows struck in quick succession, and the three fleeing bandits fell from their horses.

The two men were so terrified that they tumbled off their horses and knelt down, kowtowing repeatedly: "Sir, spare our lives! Sir, spare our lives!"

The battle lasted less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea.

Xiao Yunlan stopped his horse amidst the pile of corpses and slowly exhaled a breath of white air.

A faint sense of satisfaction emanated from the demonic energy within him—not from the killing, but from the almost fanatical awe that suddenly rose in the eyes of the soldiers behind him.

As Zhao Meng and the others watched his retreating figure, their hands gripping the knives trembled slightly.

That charge, the thrusting and the unerring accuracy of the arrows... that's not the skill of an ordinary captain.

He put away his bow and looked at the caravan leader who was slumped on the ground—a middle-aged, fat man wearing a brocade jacket, his crotch already soaked.

"Thank you so much, sir, for saving my life..." The officer crawled over and kowtowed repeatedly.

Xiao Yunlan ignored him and glanced at the carriages.

One of the cart tracks was extremely deep, far exceeding the weight of cloth, salt, and iron. He rode over and used the tip of his spear to pry open the torn tarpaulin.

The stacked burlap sacks seemed ordinary. But when the spearhead pierced through, the sensation was wrong—not soft fabric or granules, but hard, regular metal.

He opened a burlap sack. Dark blue arrowheads were arranged like fish scales, gleaming with a cold, hard luster in the gloomy light.

"Smuggling weapons." Xiao Yunlan's voice was calm, but it made the person in charge freeze.

"Sir...Sir, please understand, this...this is..."

Xiao Yunlan stopped listening to his explanations and said to Zhao Meng, "Collect all the arrows and count them. Send all the caravan members, along with the remaining goods, back to Zhenhuang Pass for the military government to handle. Take the bandits' horses with you too; you'll need them later."

"Yes, sir!"

The person in charge turned ashen-faced, collapsed to the ground, and could no longer utter a word.

When the convoy regrouped and set off again, it was nearly noon. The captured arrowheads filled half a cart, weighing a total of 320 jin (approximately 160 kg).

The five caravan members, escorted by two strong soldiers, walked south dejectedly.

Xiao Yunlan, mounted on his horse, felt the hunger of the Extreme Lust Demon within him slightly relieved. The power and decisiveness he had displayed in the battle just now had planted seeds of awe in the hearts of those brave soldiers.

This is far from true loyalty, but it is at least a beginning.

But he also clearly sensed that other demonic thoughts were quietly stirring. The strategist began to calculate the value and use of these arrows; the trickster whispered, reminding him that he still needed to be wary of these newly surrendered soldiers; and the killer... the momentary pleasure of killing the one-eyed man just now made it tremble slightly.

He suppressed his distracting thoughts and looked towards the northern horizon.

The clouds hung lower, their gray hue pressing down on the distant mountain silhouettes. The damp, chilly air grew heavier, a harbinger of impending snow and ice.

"Speed ​​up," he said in a deep voice. "Reach Fifty Mile Fort before nightfall."

The sound of horses' hooves rang out again, and the wheels rolled over the frozen ground, leaving deep ruts on the wasteland.

Shuofeng Plain is still 250 li away.

The first snowflake had already quietly formed above the horizon.

-----------------

The group continued northward, and it was the third day since they left Zhenhuang Pass.

The sky was overcast and leaden, and a cold wind swept across the wilderness, whipping up sand and withered grass that rustled against the armor.

The roadside scenery grew increasingly desolate, with no trees in sight, only thorns and grasses creeping along the ground, appearing lifeless under the gray and white light.

Xiao Yunlan sat on his horse, eyes closed, concentrating.

Although the hunger of the extreme lust demon within him had been alleviated by the previous strategy, the restlessness of the other demonic thoughts had not ceased.

The Courageous Demon conveys a subtle anticipation for the battles that may lie ahead; the Wise Demon operates with cold precision, constantly analyzing the terrain and potential threats; while the Deceitful Demon, like a venomous snake in the shadows, vigilantly examines every undulating corner of the surrounding landscape.

Just after noon, the scouts galloped back, their horses kicking up a trail of dust.

"Report! Barbarian tracks have been spotted five miles to the northeast! About thirty riders are heading our way!"

Xiao Yunlan opened his eyes, a cold glint flashing in them: "What kind of barbarian tribe?"

The scout, panting heavily, said, "Not the Wolf Rong! They are shorter than the Wolf Rong, with brownish-yellow fur speckled with black spots, and their faces resemble jackals. They should be a scattered jackal tribe from the northern border!"

Jackals. The information Liu Heyang and Han Zhong had mentioned flashed through Xiao Yunlan's mind—one of the barbarian tribes in the northern border, an vassal of the Wolf Rong. Their individual combat strength was far inferior to that of the Wolf Rong, but they were cruel and cunning, and often made a living by hunting and plundering.

"All personnel on high alert," he ordered in a deep voice. "Zhao Meng, lead twenty elite soldiers to protect the flanks of the convoy. Tieshan, lead the remaining elite soldiers and recruits to form a battle line and meet the convoy. Convicts, retreat to the rear of the convoy and guard it."

The command was transmitted swiftly.

The caravan stopped, and the supply wagons were pushed to the middle of the road to form a makeshift barrier.

The elite soldiers and recruits quickly formed ranks, drew their swords, nocked their bows, and set up defensive formations on the frozen ground.

The prisoners huddled behind the vehicle, the shackles clanging together, their eyes filled with terror.

Less than a quarter of an hour later, smoke and dust rose from the horizon in the northeast.

More than thirty jackal-like barbarians roared in.

They are about the same height as an average person, but are slender, covered with short brown and black fur, with a protruding face, a long and narrow muzzle, erect ears, and eyes that gleam with a ferocious, beast-like light.

Wrapped in rough fur, holding crude weapons such as bone spears and stone axes, and riding a short, stocky, wild beast with a tangled mane.

The jackal cavalry clearly hadn't expected to encounter a well-organized force. They reined in their horses a hundred paces away and exchanged a series of hoarse barks.

The jackal leader, who had a necklace of animal teeth around his neck, stared at the convoy, especially at the supplies it was loaded with, his eyes gleaming with greed.

It raised its bone spear and let out a sharp, long howl.

More than thirty jackal cavalrymen then dispersed, forming a semi-encircling formation and slowly approaching.

Instead of charging immediately, they circled the convoy, barking menacingly, trying to find a weakness in their formation.

Xiao Yunlan stood on his horse at the front of the formation, looking at the barbarians with a blank expression.

Deep within his dantian, the Courageous Demon's fighting spirit began to boil, its crimson aura surging; the Slaughter Demon, like a ferocious beast that had smelled blood, pulsated with dark red light, conveying a naked thirst for blood and death.

Two demonic thoughts intertwined and collided, impacting his reason.