Chapter 68: After a Pyrrhic Victory

Yang Ning and Li Hu, strictly speaking, did nothing wrong.

Perhaps their motive in eliminating the Gui was selfish, and using Luo Ming and four other leaders as bait was cruel, but the fact remains that they stayed at Hongmu Ridge to help these people fight the wood puppet Gui .

Even in the recent battle within the valley, the role played by Yang and Li was undeniably crucial.

Good deeds are judged by actions, not intentions.

Regardless of their motives, the fact that they helped is an ironclad truth.

Their mistake lay solely in their unyielding, arrogant demeanor from start to finish.

Four failed expeditions had long since worn away everyone’s trust; after all, in those four expeditions, Yang and Li contributed only strength, while Luo Ming and the other five leaders sacrificed the actual lives of their own kin.

Though they needed Yang and Li’s help, everyone chose to ignore their arrogance and frequent displays of contempt—but that didn’t mean they had no thoughts on the matter; they merely endured it out of necessity.

As Yang and Li now displayed such aggressive posturing toward Xia Hong, the accumulated resentment among the crowd erupted—this was only natural.

Had Xia Hong and his group not warned everyone in time today, not a single soul in the Luo Ge encampment would have survived, and the wood puppet Gui likely would have successfully advanced to mid-level; in that case, none of us would have escaped.

Moreover, Xia Hong earned the primary credit for slaying the wood puppet Gui .

Without his Ninghuo oil and his timely command forbidding anyone from leaving the valley, it’s uncertain whether we could have eradicated the wood puppet Gui entirely today.

The people living around Hongmu Ridge may have narrow horizons and limited experience, but they are not devoid of ordinary human emotions.

Xia Hong has done them a great favor, contributed significantly in eliminating the Gui , and even surpassed Yang and Li in impact; moreover, there is the bond of shared territory—they would never stand idly by while Xia Hong was bullied.

Besides, that treasure wasn’t deliberately seized by Xia Chuan; he acquired it by accident.

Nearly two hundred people stood firmly on Xia Hong’s side, their determined expressions making their stance clear; not even Luo Ming, nor the ordinary folk of the Luo Ge encampment, moved an inch despite Yang and Li’s furious glares.

Li Hu’s chest heaved violently, his grip on the great knife trembling slightly, revealing the extremity of his rage.

Yet even so, he took not a single step forward.

Yang Ning beside him was equally grim-faced.

Both understood that attacking Xia Hong was now impossible.

Though strong, their power still lay within the Excavation Realm.

Nearly two hundred people, including four Excavation Realm leaders like Luo Ming and dozens of Woodcutting Realm cultivators—if they tried to force their hand, it would be suicide.

“Xia Hong… Leader, correct? Let me say this one last time: hand him over to me. In Beishuozhen, he’ll live a better life, and perhaps one day, you too might gain entry to Beishuozhen because of him—if you…”

“Enough. No need to say more, my lords. Even if Xia Chuan weren’t my own brother, I wouldn’t hand over a single ordinary villager from my Great Xia encampment to any stranger without cause.”

Yang Ning’s words were cut off mid-sentence, his face stiffening slightly.

Li Hu, unable to hold back any longer, stepped forward—but Yang Ning immediately blocked him.

“Foolish and ignorant. No amount of talking will change anything. Let’s go.”

Yang Ning’s tone as he spoke wasn’t one of anger, but of weary resignation—as if he truly believed, deep down, that Luo Ming and Xia Hong’s group were fools.

Li Hu was even more direct; before being pulled away, he turned back to glare at the crowd and sneered: “A pack of short-sighted fools. What good is a treasure? Born in this place, your end will always be to become food for cold beasts and Gui —nothing will ever change.”

These words utterly extinguished the last sliver of goodwill in everyone’s hearts; not even the ordinary folk, but even Luo Ming, could not suppress his anger.

Xia Hong himself showed no reaction, only narrowing his eyes as he watched their retreating backs, committing the names Yang Ning and Li Hu to memory.

With Yang and Li’s departure, the great calamity brought by the wood puppet Gui was finally over.

Everyone, including Xia Hong, exhaled deeply in relief.

Nearly half the crowd, realizing they could finally relax, collapsed instantly, as if drained of all strength.

But this relief lasted no more than a dozen breaths—before sorrowful wails and cries began to rise from the crowd.

“Wahhh, my child is dead, Leader, my child is dead.”

“My mother is gone too…”

“My mother is dead, my father was killed too, wah…”

“I need to go find my mother’s body…”

…………

Every disaster inevitably brings immense suffering.

The wails and cries echoing around him weighed heavily on Xia Hong’s heart.

This was the third time.

Great Xia encampment, Great Stone encampment, and now Luo Ge encampment.

The wood puppet Gui they faced was only a low-level Gui , yet the cost was already this terrible.

How powerful would mid-level or high-level Gui be?

If he ever encountered one, could he defeat it?

A sharp sense of urgency surged within Xia Hong.

As time passed, the wails and cries gradually faded, but most remained trapped in grief, weeping silently; those who had regained awareness were mostly blank and numb, as if their spirit had been drained.

Not even the ordinary folk, but Luo Ming himself, was spared.

Luo Ming now stared blankly at a small dagger in his hand, his expression dazed, his pupils filled with pain and turmoil.

That dagger had been wielded by a puppet that ambushed him in the wooden house—it was his eldest son, Luo Yun.

Like the ordinary villagers, Luo Ming, as a leader, had lost his eldest son, his wife, and his father, Luo Feng.

The total population of Luo Ge encampment was over thirteen hundred; though not yet counted, Xia Hong estimated that at least a thousand had died, front and back.

To say every household wore mourning, every door draped in white silk, was no exaggeration.

Xia Hong sighed softly, glanced at the sky, then quickly walked to Luo Ming’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder: “Leader Luo, please bear up. First, comfort the others and lead them back into the valley to gather what remains—the sky will break soon; staying outside isn’t safe.”

Luo Ming snapped back to awareness, looked up at the sky, saw the faint light appearing, shuddered, then gave Xia Hong a grateful look before turning to face the crowd and speaking firmly:

“Everyone, don’t stay here. Head into the valley and gather what you can.”

“Shouping, lead the others to build a simple wooden shelter, then light the stove—we can’t let everyone freeze.”

“Yes, Leader!”

After speaking, Luo Ming turned to the other four leaders and Xia Hong:

“Five of you, dawn is coming—you won’t be able to leave today. Stay here for the night; depart only after nightfall tomorrow.”

Hearing this, Hong Gang, Huang Zhao, and the others nodded.

Xia Hong had no reason to refuse—he was injured, and Xia Chuan still hadn’t awakened; he couldn’t leave even if he wanted to.

(End of Chapter)