Chapter 90 - 32: [Exile Merchant Team]

Chapter 90: Chapter 32: [Exile Merchant Team]

Night fell, and the twin copper-and-white moons hung high in the dark sky, gazing down at the earth with keen interest like two giant eyes.

THUD. THUD.

The desolate beast’s dull, sluggish hoofbeats echoed in the night sky like the heartbeat of a dying creature. It looked as if it had just tumbled through a blender of blades, its entire body covered in blood-red lacerations. The shriveled wounds glowed with a faint, crimson light. Its thick right front leg had been repeatedly hacked by masterful Cavalry Swordsmanship, leaving it barely attached by a few strands of muscle and bone fragments.

"Urrrgh..." it whimpered.

With a massive CRASH, its giant, armor-clad head—covered in blood-red sword marks—plummeted heavily to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

The heavy fortress chariot it had been dragging lost its momentum. Coasting forward on inertia for a few meters, it crashed into the beast’s corpse and came to a halt.

The chariot’s gold-inlaid, iron-clad exterior armor and its wheels were also covered in blood-red sword marks. Half of the rear-left wheel had been blown off by some kind of explosive Magic Potion, and the axle was severely worn, left completely battered and pitted by the crimson slashes.

CLANG!

The gold-inlaid, iron-clad wooden door burst open from a heavy kick. A set of wooden stairs was shoved out roughly, landing heavily on the ground to bridge the chariot’s interior with the weed-covered earth.

"Northern Men..." Musa, the Demon Race commander of the Hunter Squad, roared. Faint flames spewed from the corners of his mouth. Clutching a blood-red sword wound on his side, he leaned unsteadily against the chariot wall and jumped down the stairs.

"It’s different from the hot Eastern Gawana Desert here. The northern climate is dry and cold, creating a tactical environment suited for medium armor. Having not fought the Northern Men along the way, I neglected our equipment. I was careless," he snarled through gritted teeth. "But against that level of Demonized Weapon and those splash-damage Magic Potion launchers... even standard armor wouldn’t have been of much use."

Five Demonized men, bearing varying degrees of injuries, followed him out of the vehicle. They were the only surviving members of the Hunter Squad.

Two Demonized scouts had died while paving the way, and five Demonized Warriors had been slain by the swords and Magic Potion Cannons of the Empire’s Blood Sword Cavalry.

Out of a total of twelve Demonized men, only five remained, all bearing Blood Steel wounds of varying severity.

"You, the one who can fly. Go see if the Northern Men’s Blood Sword Cavalry has caught up," Musa ordered. Extending a massive hand, he grabbed the neck of a Demonized man with relatively fewer injuries and hurled him forcefully into the sky.

Thrown into midair by the tremendous force, the Demonized man frantically shapeshifted. From beneath his black robes, he unfurled thick, leathery membranous wings marred by Blood Steel Sword Marks. He glided awkwardly, using the powerful vision granted by his Buried Sand Winged Dragon Demonization to scan the distance, checking the direction from which their chariot had come.

"No, we successfully shook them off," he said, landing crookedly and folding his wings back into his body.

"Valak of the Kana Plain is famously known as a reclusive Demon Monarch who hates going out," Musa panted, stroking his jaw, which was covered in blood-red scales. "I thought he had just rotted away in his comfortable Underground City and become a spineless coward, which was why he spouted that serious nonsense about staying away from the Empire’s borders.

"To think the Empire already has the capability to mass-produce Blood Steel Weapons. The precious swords that were only issued to decorated officers decades ago can now be mass-produced and supplied to their Elite Guards. If a Blood Guard like that is stationed at every border outpost, then approaching the Empire’s borders really is unwise.

"And those damn Magic Potion Sprayers. The Ederic Empire is an aggressive ram; that’s probably another new toy they’ve prepared for war.

"Just like the Blood Steel Weapons, it might only be a few years before the Magic Potion Sprayers are mass-produced in their Magic Casting Workshops and issued to frontline elite troops. By then, the Northern Men will probably start dreaming of continent-wide conquest like the ancient empires again, acting like a hundred-armed giant, recklessly throwing punches and beating up every one of their neighbors.

"Valak deliberately didn’t make things clear... He wanted to see us fall flat on our faces. He’s like a Demon Crow—aloof, cunning, and fond of watching a good show." Musa puffed two streams of black smoke from his nostrils, punching the chariot wall beside him.

THUD.

CRASH!

Like the straw that broke the camel’s back, the chariot—covered in blood-red sword marks and blast scorches from Magic Potion Cannons—finally succumbed to the strain and fell apart. The battered and hacked axle snapped completely, and the ruined wheel, missing a third of its frame, rolled off to the side, coming to a halt as it hit a rock.

"Musa-Salamander... what do we do next?" the Demonized men asked, looking at the leader of the Hunter Squad. "The chariot is destroyed, and we can’t enter the Ederic Empire’s borders either."

Musa took a deep breath and pulled a Witch Gold Compass from his robes.

In the Quartz Crystal at the center of the compass, a single drop of blood trembled slightly. The Wheel spun, and the blue-glowing Witch Gold Pointer aimed toward the territory behind the Ederic Empire’s walls, pointing at a town on the horizon obscured by Ederic’s Wall.

"Take all the remaining supplies from the chariot, as well as the oil sprayers from both sides," he ordered. "There’s still a lot of oil from the Eastern Gawana Desert left. The Flint Oil Sprayers will still be useful."

The Demonized men voiced their agreement. They dismantled the flint nozzles and large metal tanks from the sides of the abandoned chariot, packing up the remaining supplies from within.

"It’s been so long. The Desert Tyrant’s patience has almost been eroded away by the wind and sand. If we don’t return with Talia Ronov’s head, the Desert Tyrant Sittika will torture us to death," Musa growled.