The air was filled with a mixture of dust, blood, and sweat, a smell that made one want to vomit.
A young monk fell to the ground.
His eyes were closed, his face was pale, and his lips were cracked and bleeding.
He had not rested for three days, and the chains binding him made it difficult for him to breathe.
“Get up!” A god-level cultivator walked over and kicked him in the waist. “Stop pretending to be dead!”
The young cultivator groaned and tried to get up, but his body was no longer under his control.
He fell again, his forehead hit a rock, and blood flowed freely.
“Useless!” The holy cultivator drew his whip and lashed the man’s back.
The whip had barbs, and with one lash, the skin would tear.
The young monk gritted his teeth and made no sound.
He was used to it.
Here, making noise would only invite further lashing.
There were no tears in his eyes, just numbness.
That feeling of numbness after extreme torture, where you couldn’t even feel pain anymore.
Wolf Hao led five hundred beastman warriors and ambushed them behind the hills outside the mine.
The darkness before dawn is the best disguise.
The orc warriors lay flat on the ground, covered in animal skins, one with the earth.
Their breathing was so light that it was almost inaudible.
Their eyes shone brightly, as bright as a pack of wolves at night.
Wolf Hao lay on his back at the front, peering through the gaps in the grass at the light screen in the mine and the patrolling Divine Race cultivators.
His fingers traced the ground lightly, calculating the time interval between each patrol team.
“One stick of incense will last,” he said quietly. “A turn change occurs every time an incense stick burns. When the turn changes, the light barrier will weaken for a moment. That’s when we will make our move.”
He turned his head and looked at the orc warriors behind him.
“Brothers, we will not die today. We will save the people. Fight your way in, attract the attention of the Protoss, then withdraw. Don’t linger, don’t be greedy for glory. Come back alive.”
The orc soldiers remained silent, only gripping their weapons tightly.
Lang Hao took a deep breath.
“finish off!”
Five hundred orc warriors charged down the hill simultaneously.
They charged into the mine like a tidal wave, their footsteps shaking the earth.
Their war cries broke the silence before dawn, like thunder, like a mountain collapsing.
“Sirius Tribe!”
“finish off!”
“finish off!”
The divine cultivators were very worried.
“Enemy attack! Enemy attack!”
“It’s the Sirius Tribe! The Beastmen have attacked!”
“Quick! Report to the commander!”
The patrolling holy cultivators quickly formed a line, and golden holy light shone in the darkness, like dozens of suns.
They raised their spears and charged towards the orc warriors.
The two torrents collided.
The sounds of clanging metal, roars, screams, and shattering bones mixed together, reverberating throughout the valley.
Lang Hao charged to the forefront. His battle ax spun in his hand, each swing claiming a life.
With one swing of the axe, a rank two True God cultivator was split into two, blood spurting out and splattering all over his body.
With two blows, the three holy cultivators were cleaved in half at the waist, their upper and lower bodies separated, their internal organs scattering onto the ground.
With three swings of the axe, the first reinforcements sent by the guard commander were hit by the blade of the axe, and seven or eight people were sent flying backwards while vomiting blood.
His body was covered in blood—his own blood and the blood of his enemies.
His eyes were filled with fighting spirit, like a volcano that had erupted and could not be extinguished.
“Come on, come on!” he shouted, and his battle ax cleaved a saint cultivator in front of him in half, along with his shield.
The orc warriors followed Lang Hao from behind like a pack of wolves, fierce and crazy.
A young orc warrior, a first-rank True God, was going to the battlefield for the first time.
His hands were shaking, but his eyes were shining. He followed Lang Hao from behind, using the bone ax in his hand to cut down one enemy after another.
He had been slashed three times, and blood was flowing profusely, but he did not retreat.
He couldn’t back down.
His brothers were behind him.
An old orc warrior, a Tier 3 True Immortal Realm Warrior, had a scar on his face that stretched from his forehead to his chin.
He had fought on the battlefield for thousands of years, and his body had more scars than his clothes.
He remained calm and controlled, every swing of his ax precise and deadly.
His eyes were cold, as cold as ice in winter.
Even though the number of divine cultivators was quite large, they were caught off guard by the sudden attack of the beastmen.
Their formation was disrupted, and they fought individually, unable to form an effective defense.
The golden holy light and blood-red ax light collided in the air, releasing an ear-splitting roar.
The ground at the site was destroyed into large craters, with debris flying everywhere and smoke billowing.
The barrier outside the mine collapsed due to the orcs’ attack.
Cracks spread outward like spider webs, and golden light flickered, like burning candles in the wind.
FAQ Novel
Q: Where is the Northern Mine located?
A: The Northern Mine is located at the northernmost tip of Fifteenth Heaven, in a remote valley.
Q: What binds the workers in the mine?
A: The workers are bound by black chains, forged from ancient cold iron and engraved with sealing runes, designed to suppress spiritual energy.
We look forward to your thoughts and discussions on this chapter.