Chapter 687: The Stray Dog's Vow, Hell Behind Him

The western Gobi's sun was so scorching it seemed to squeeze the last moisture from the ground.

Heat rose from the surface, warping the view; even distant mountain ranges looked as if they were bobbing in a frying pan.

Gao Xiaoyu lay beside a soon‑to‑dry mud puddle, his whole body like a dead fish flung ashore, his chest heaving violently, sounding like a wind‑box breathing.

The Leather Armor he had ripped from a corpse was long stripped of its original color, stained with sweat, blood and dust, exuding a nauseating sour stench.

The once‑opulent Prince of Qi who had sat in Jinyang's Golden Hall, dressed in brocade and feasting, now had his hair in disarray, his face smeared with black mud, lips cracked and peeled, and even the corners of his mouth bore cloudy mud stains.

Gurgle… Gurgle…

He could not care that a few dead insects floated in the puddle; like a beast he plunged his head in, gulping the bitter, gritty, filthy water.

Beside him, several equally exhausted Warhorses also fought over the scant water.

A Zaojia Horse snorted irritably, its massive hooves splashing mud in the puddle, flinging it straight onto Gao Xiaoyu's face.

In the old days, which brute would dare act so brazen before him? He would have been dragged away for skinning and tendon‑pulling.

But now Gao Xiaoyu lacked even the strength to push the horse's head aside; he could only shrink his neck meekly and scramble for a sip of life‑saving water with these beasts.

After drinking the mud water, the searing thirst eased slightly, but was followed by overwhelming terror and collapse.

Rustle…

A gust of hot wind swept over the withered grass, lifting a few pebbles, producing a faint sound.

That sound fell upon Gao Xiaoyu's ears, yet it was like a death‑knell.

Ah—!

Gao Xiaoyu sprang up from the ground, frantically drawing the only short blade at his waist, hacking wildly at the empty air as if possessed.

His eyes were blood‑shot, veins bulging, pupils dilated, and he shouted hysterically, "Don't come! I'll kill you! Get away! It's a devil! It's a devil!"

In his vision, the swaying withered grass seemed to become Lu Ming's blood‑stained lance, and the howling wind turned into Chen Yan's cold verdict.

His Highness! His Highness! No one! It's the wind! It's the wind!

The Commander of the Personal Guard, who had been standing nearby, rushed forward, seized Gao Xiaoyu's trembling arm, and shouted loudly, trying to rouse his mind.

The commander himself was riddled with wounds, a half‑broken arrow lodged in his back, his face pallid from blood loss, yet he still guarded his lord fiercely.

Held tightly by the commander, Gao Xiaoyu's body went rigid, he gasped heavily, the terror in his eyes gradually faded, replaced by endless emptiness and humiliation.

He slowly lowered his head, staring at the murky water's reflection of that disheveled, half‑human, half‑ghostly silhouette.

Is that him?

Is that the ambitious, spirited Prince of Qi?

Is that the Gao Xiaoyu who vowed Three Days No Sealing Blades and to trample Gancao City?

Humiliation!

An unprecedented humiliation gnawed at his heart like a poisonous snake.

It hurt more than death, more than being torn to pieces!

He is of royal blood, a noble lineage, yet Chen Yan drove him into this desert like a stray dog, leaving him living worse than a beggar!

Chen Yan… Chen Yan!!

Gao Xiaoyu clutched the short blade tightly, his fingernails digging deep into his palm, blood streaming down the gaps, dripping onto the scorching sand, instantly vaporizing into a wisp of red smoke.

He jerked his head upward, toward the eastern sky, his twisted face full of venomous hatred, uttering an extremely vicious curse.

"I swear! As long as I can live to see Duke Kudi!"

"I will unite with the Rouran Iron Cavalry, flatten Guanzhong! I will skin and tendon‑pull you, Chen Yan, and light sky lanterns! I will make you taste a pain a hundred times this! Today's disgrace, I will repay a hundredfold!!"

His voice was mournful and hoarse, echoing across the barren Gobi, startling several vultures circling in the air waiting to feed on carrion.

Yet, before the echo of his oath faded, the harsh reality struck again.

His Highness! Look behind!

The personal guard responsible for the rear shouted a terrified scream, his voice pitched higher, pointing at the eastern horizon, his hand trembling like a sieve.

Gao Xiaoyu shivered all over; in that instant, all his venomous hatred was scattered by fear.

He thought the killing god had come after him again.

"It's over… it's over… that devil is coming…"

He was so frightened his soul fled, scrambling and rolling to mount his horse, slipping off the stirrups several times, his knees striking stones, a piercing pain.

He looked back and saw a wall of dust rising on the eastern horizon, blotting out the sun, as if thousands of armies were charging forward.

That movement was several times larger than the previous pursuers.

Yet as they drew nearer, they realized it was not the uniform, murderous Zhou Army Iron Cavalry.

It was a crowd of people.

A horde of rag‑clad, bare‑handed, wailing masses.

They pushed and staggered, like demons crawling out of hell, or like livestock driven away.

They wore no armor, held no weapons; some had even lost their shoes, running barefoot on the scorching Gobi, each step leaving a bloodstain.

They were the Three Thousand Broken Soldiers released by Chen Yan.

Though unarmed, the desperation, fear, and madness radiating from them could be smelled from afar.

It was a terror even worse than Plague, a madness born from a spine completely shattered.

Behind them, dozens of Zhou Army light cavalry flickered in and out of view.

These cavalry did not charge; they lingered behind at a leisurely pace.

Each rider rode two horses, the saddles laden with quivers. Whenever someone in the crowd slowed or tried to change direction, the cavalry would release one or two cold arrows from their Bow and Arrow.

Whoosh—Puff!

A Qi soldier at the rear, about to collapse, was pierced through the calf by a precise arrow.

"Ah—!" The scream was instantly swallowed by the crowd.

The Zhou Army cavalry were not in a hurry to kill; they were like shepherds, using whips of death to drive this flock of "Sheep" westward, racing toward Lingzhou.

"Run fast! The devil is behind!"

"Don't kill me! I'm running! I'm running! I don't want to die!"

The cries of the Broken Soldiers were deafening, a howl that had lost all reason.

Gao Xiaoyu had originally tried to avoid the torrent, but the crowd spread like a blanket over the sky, too vast, and it swept him and dozens of his personal guards into its midst.

"Get out of the way! Don't block the Crown Prince's path!" Gao Xiaoyu brandished his short sword, trying to cut a way, to preserve his dignity and distance as Crown Prince.

But his voice was instantly drowned in the cries of thousands.

These three thousand people had gone mad; they couldn't even recognize the disheveled man before them.

In the face of death's terror, the Crown Prince's authority was worthless.

Gao Xiaoyu was jostled sideways, nearly pulled from his horse's back by the panicked crowd. He could only be forced forward with the flow, the incoherent wails of the Broken Soldiers filling his ears, each word striking his heart like a heavy hammer.

"The devil… that two‑meter‑tall devil devours people! One thrust cuts a man in half! Guts spill everywhere!"

"The Duke of Wei of Great Zhou practices demonic arts! He's not human! He's the King of Hell! Our tens of thousands vanished in an instant! All gone!"

"We can't go back… We're all going to die here… No one can escape…"

Fear is contagious.

Especially in such an extreme setting, the fear of three thousand people converged, forming a pressure as tangible as a substance.

Gao Xiaoyu looked at these elite soldiers who had once followed him with unshakable confidence, now in this condition, and the final line of defense in his heart completely collapsed.

He had originally thought he could still rally the remnants and regroup.

But now he understood that these people were ruined.

Completely ruined.

Chen Yan not only defeated them, but also eradicated their hearts!

"Damn… damn…" Gao Xiaoyu muttered to himself, his limbs icy.

He was swept into the crowd, forced to sprint forward. He wanted to command, to curse, to display the Crown Prince's authority, but before this desperate torrent, he was as tiny as a grain of sand.

He even dared not reveal his identity, fearing that the mad Broken Soldiers would tear him apart in their scramble for his Warhorse.

At that moment, a horse was a chance to live; who cared whether he was Crown Prince or the Son of Heaven?

In the setting sun, the dying light like blood stretched the team's shadows extremely long, like a horde of twisted specters.

Gao Xiaoyu blended among the Three Thousand Broken Soldiers, like a true bereaved dog, driven by the "Shepherd" behind him toward Lingzhou, toward the place he thought was hope but was actually another abyss, running in despair.

Hell was right behind him.

And ahead, perhaps an even deeper hell.