Chapter 190: No Threats Accepted

Qin Donglai coughed heavily.

Each cough was heavier than the last, and he felt cold all over, his limbs weak.

Even his head ached.

He looked at the wound on his shoulder; though the iron plate embedded with wood splinters had been removed and bandaged, the area had slightly swelled, and a throbbing pain, like a heartbeat, came and went.

He sighed softly and said to the soldier beside him: “Go get the medic.”

Not long after, a strange-looking southern barbarian shaman approached.

The black, withered old man examined Qin Donglai’s body, muttered a few incomprehensible incantations—nonsense to both Qi and southern barbarians—then said: “You’re cursed. Someone has placed a hex on you.”

Qin Donglai frowned: “Impossible… the True Lord didn’t even strike me. Though he was a Spirit Hunter, he used only radiant thunder arts—there’s no way he’d resort to lowly curse magic.”

“But you are cursed,” the shaman said, rolling his eyes.

Qin Donglai sighed: “Then cure me.”

“Fine!”

The southern barbarian shaman pulled out some bizarre herbs from the pouch he carried.

Such as dried-out eyes, a piece of white bone, and some insects.

He crushed and mixed them into powder, then steeped it in spring water from beside the camp, and handed the brew to Qin Donglai.

Qin Donglai stared at the black, paste-like substance floating with wisps of white, ribbon-like “medicinal broth,” and instinctively frowned.

It smelled awful.

“Drink it,” the shaman said coldly. “You’ll recover once you do.”

Qin Donglai gritted his teeth, tilted his head back, and drained the bowl.

The shaman left, satisfied.

Qin Donglai sat where he was, recalling events from a few days prior.

Li Lin’s face appeared in his mind.

Then came the images of purple lightning striking down.

Cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

For the first time, he truly felt the terror of a Spirit Hunter.

Magic was simply unreasonable.

At least, that’s how he felt.

But then he realized: the unreasonable one wasn’t the magic—it was the young man. He wasn’t lacking in Spirit Hunter arts; his power was simply immense.

Even a Daoist heir at that age couldn’t match him.

After failing to capture Yulin County, his rank had been demoted by one grade, and he was now escorting roughly twenty thousand Qi civilians back to Yuecheng.

These captives could serve as laborers—and if necessary, as food.

He stood on high ground, watching the group of Qi civilians not far ahead.

In his eyes, every one of them was utterly cowardly.

Twenty thousand people, held in check by just a few hundred of them—if they truly rose up, his men couldn’t stop them.

Yet these people dared not rebel.

“Qi people are born cowardly… like chickens and dogs.”

But then he frowned again—he knew that statement was wrong.

If the Qi were truly born cowards, how had he suffered defeat?

He drifted into idle thoughts, then suddenly noticed… his body didn’t feel as bad anymore.

The chill was gone.

The southern barbarian shaman really knew something!

He brightened instantly, waved his hand—and felt no pain in his shoulder.

Impressive!

Qin Donglai took a deep breath, feeling much more comfortable.

He was about to fetch a bow to test if his strength had fully returned, when suddenly—he saw a volley of flaming arrows streaking in from afar.

“Enemy attack!”

Someone screamed, shrill and piercing.

All the southern barbarian soldiers sprang into action.

About two hundred flaming arrows landed scattered across the entire camp.

As an archer, Qin Donglai instantly understood: these arrows weren’t meant to kill—they were for… illumination.

The arrows ignited flammable materials in the southern barbarian camp—tents, grain stores—and the fire spread rapidly, lighting the entire camp in brilliant glow.

Then came the thunder of hooves.

Dozens of cavalry charged forward, their silver spears piercing through the southern barbarian lines, then circling at a distance.

At least forty southern barbarian soldiers were speared to death; over thirty more were trampled or knocked down.

All of this happened in less than the time it took to burn a stick of incense.

Then came hundreds of Qi infantry charging forward.

Qin Donglai grabbed a large bow, leapt out of the camp, slapped off the sparks burning on his clothes, and stared into the distance.

He drew his bow, loosed an arrow.

Ding… the arrow bounced off.

The Qi infantry had formed ranks—the front line shield-bearers, some even armored soldiers.

Compared to the village militia from Yulin County a few days ago, their equipment was clearly far superior.

He dropped the bow, snatched a long spear from beside a fallen southern barbarian soldier, and roared: “Everyone, follow me—fight these cowardly Qi!”

Immediately, many soldiers gathered around him.

At such moments, a commander who steps forward easily inspires a crowd.

Soon, over two hundred southern barbarian soldiers stood beside Qin Donglai.

“Charge back!”

Qin Donglai roared.

He charged straight at the Qi lines; the southern barbarians followed.

Qin Donglai moved fast, sprinting hard—soon he reached the front line of Qi shields.

At that moment, he felt weightless, as if one push could send him flying.

Then… he truly “flew.”

In a dog-eating-shit motion, he collapsed face-first before the shields, motionless.

This sudden turn stunned not just the southern barbarians—even the Qi shield-bearers froze.

Li Lin, standing behind the shields, broke his hand seals.

He’d been about to unleash a Thunderbolt Spell right on Qin Donglai—only for the man to faint first.

Hidden injury?

Qin Donglai falling didn’t matter—but the two hundred southern barbarians following him all froze in place.

Neither fleeing nor fighting seemed right.

Then, a rain of arrows shot from behind the Qi army, felling most of the southern barbarians.

“Stop!”

A loud voice rang out, echoing across the entire battlefield.

Li Lin turned—saw a burly man on a high platform, pointing at the twenty thousand trembling Qi civilians like a shepherd pointing at twenty thousand lambs ready for slaughter.

“If you attack us again, we’ll kill them.”

Beside the twenty thousand civilians stood about a hundred soldiers… holding spears, poised to stab down.

The twenty thousand stared at the Qi army, at Li Lin.

After all, Li Lin wore official robes—he looked like a high-ranking officer.

The Qi army halted.

“Good,” the burly commander sneered. “Now, drop your weapons… and surrender.”

Li Lin sighed softly and said: “Continue the attack.”

The Qi army advanced once more.

The southern barbarian commander roared: “Kill the civilians! Kill them now!”

Over a hundred soldiers surged into the captive crowd like wolves, beginning to slaughter.

The captives screamed, scrambling backward, each trying to shove someone else in front of them.

Li Lin’s face darkened—he began forming hand seals again.

One after another, purple heavenly lightning struck down.

Twenty-three bolts… killed twenty-three executioners.

Li Lin had done all he could.

His spiritual energy was gone.

The influence of ordinary human strength on a battlefield was still too small.

But the other southern barbarians weren’t deterred—they kept killing among the crowd.

Only after the Qi army had cleared all enemies from the battlefield’s perimeter did they turn toward the Qi captives.

(End of chapter)