Chapter 66: Battle at Heisong Village!

The refugees of Heisong Village weren’t actually fat; they were merely of normal build.

But to wild dogs who had long roamed the Chaos Wasteland, eating irregularly, they looked positively plump.

Such fat lambs made their hearts itch with hunger.

As dusk fell, the villagers had all returned home, and smoke rose from every hearth; the wild dogs could no longer wait and launched their attack.

Yet the villagers remained unaware that doom had descended.

“Kill!”

Shouts echoed through the Heisong Forest as over three hundred wild dogs, lying in ambush, surged from all directions and surrounded the village.

The villagers realized the danger; men snatched up knives, forks, and other weapons and rushed out of their homes.

But when they saw the dense throng of bandits, they turned pale with terror, their eyes filled with despair.

“Listen up, all of you! We’re the Scorpion Bandits! If you don’t want to die, kneel down and surrender now—we might spare your lives.”

“But if anyone dares resist, don’t blame us for being ruthless—we’ll twist off your heads and kick them like balls, and leave not a single soul alive in this village!”

“The Scorpion Bandits?”

The men’s limbs stiffened; when they saw the black-and-white banner bearing the scorpion emblem, their fear intensified dozens of times over.

Clang! Clang!

One by one, weapons and tools clattered to the ground as every villager surrendered.

For the Scorpion Bandits were a name that made children stop crying along the border.

No resistance meant a slim chance of survival; resistance meant certain death.

Seeing how well their intimidation worked, the wild dogs thrilled with delight, immediately binding all the villagers and gathering them in the open space at the village entrance.

“Great leaders of the Scorpion Bandits, we of Heisong Village are all refugees persecuted by nobles—we would never dare resist you. Take everything we own.”

“We beg you, spare our lives—thank you, great leaders!”

Among the trembling crowd, a sturdy middle-aged man pleaded with the wild dogs.

He was the village’s only blacksmith; he had originally planned to resist, but upon hearing they were the wild dogs’ gang and seeing their banner, he believed them.

After all, no one on the border would dare impersonate the Scorpion Bandits.

“Spare you? Hah! Do you really believe that? You’re nothing but filthy, stinking vermin!” The wild dogs laughed uproariously, faces twisted with cruel amusement.

They treated these villagers like dogs—dogs that would beg and whimper.

Yet their own lost dignity needed to be reclaimed from even weaker refugees.

Thus, they were merciless toward these pitiful fugitives.

“You… you’re breaking your word!” The villagers cried out in shock and fury; the men struggled, but it was too late.

“Enough chatter. We’re still too close to the border. Kill all the men and children. Take the women and valuables. Let’s leave now!”

One of the lead wild dogs barked orders, raising his spiked club to smash the blacksmith’s skull.

Swoosh!

Thud!

Just as he raised the club overhead, a shrill whistle pierced the air—and a spray of blood burst from his neck.

“Ugh…”

The wild dog struggled to look down, staring at the trembling arrow shaft still quivering in his throat, his face filled with disbelief.

Before he could say more, his body went limp and crashed heavily to the ground.

As he fell, he saw above him—dozens of terrifying giant flying birds hovering in the sky.

The wild dogs froze in shock; after a moment, they snapped awake. “What’s going on?”

At first, they couldn’t tell where the arrow had come from.

Then came a series of whistling sounds—five or six more bandits dropped dead—and now they finally looked up.

“Damn it! Look up! There are beast-birds in the sky—and riders on them!”

“It’s noble sky knights! The sky knights are here to crush us! Run, everyone!”

The wild dogs scattered in panic.

Sky knights—such elite beings—were as terrifying to them as robbers encountering the state deploying fighter jets.

But before they could reach the Heisong Forest at the village’s edge, the sound of galloping horses and pounding footsteps erupted around them.

Looking closer, the wild dogs trembled again.

From the woods rode seven or eight knights, followed by over a hundred soldiers clad in brand-new leather armor, charging toward them with murderous intent.

“It’s soldiers! Royal soldiers! Run, everyone!”

Because the sky knights on the Moxun Eagles had already planted fear in their hearts, the wild dogs dared not even think of resistance.

“Run? You bastards—you’re not going anywhere!” Mi Gen and the others gritted their teeth; the fury they’d held since yesterday was finally unleashed.

“Storm Legion! Attack! Leave not a single wild dog alive!” Gervas drew his longsword and gave the order!

“Kill!”

Instantly, a one-sided massacre erupted in the Heisong Forest; the Storm Legion showed no mercy to the wicked wild dogs.

No quarter. No survivors.

The knights and soldiers slaughtered on the ground; the Moxun Eagle squad patrolled above, assisting and watching.

Notably, the Moxun Eagles’ training still needed improvement.

The ten archers had all been skilled bowmen, rarely missing targets at forty to fifty meters.

Yet today, their accuracy hovered at only fifty to sixty percent—alarmingly low.

The reason was simple: the movement of the Moxun Eagles affected their aim.

Half an hour later, the battle ended.

All 325 wild dogs were dead—not one escaped.

The Storm Legion suffered only over twenty minor injuries—no fatalities.

Gervas was naturally pleased with these results.

Even though the wild dogs’ strength paled beside the core members of the Scorpion Bandits,

three hundred men were still three hundred men—and to eliminate them with only twenty-plus minor wounds was a decisive victory.

As he ordered his men to clear the battlefield, Gervas turned to the Heisong villagers.

“My lord, what shall we do with these refugees?” Knight Mi Gen asked.

The field fell silent; all other knights and soldiers waited for Gervas’s command.

“Noble lord, spare us! Have mercy! We know we’re wrong—please, noble lord, give us one chance to live!” The villagers trembled, still filled with despair.

The nobles had slaughtered the bandits—but to these refugees, it was merely trading one group of thieves for a more powerful one.

“Have mercy? On what grounds? Imperial law mandates execution for all fugitives!” Gervas’s expression was icy.

But hearing his question, the villagers felt a flicker of hope.

They feared most that the noble would simply kill them without a word; now that he gave them a chance to speak, perhaps they still had a chance to live?

“Noble lord, we’re all craftsmen—I’m the blacksmith—I can forge all farm tools, even swords and leather armor!”

“Noble lord, I’m a stonemason—I can build stone houses and repair castles!”

“Noble lord, I’m a carpenter—I can make cart wheels and wooden farming tools…”

One by one, the refugees clutched at this lifeline, frantically declaring their worth.