Of the five hundred soldiers, less than three hundred remained.
The young orc warrior lay in a pool of blood, his eyes still open, looking at the sky.
He still held the bone ax in his hand, which was stained with the blood of his enemies.
He finished off seven divine cultivators, then was stabbed through the chest by a Level Four True Immortal Realm Elder.
He fell with a smile on his face, having protected his brothers behind him.
The old orc warrior also fell.
He had dozens of wounds on his body, and every wound was bleeding.
His battle ax was stuck in the ground beside him, the blade covered in scratches.
He leaned against the ax handle and closed his eyes.
He had lived for three thousand years, fought for three thousand years, and could finally rest.
Lang Hao’s body was also covered in wounds.
His left arm was badly injured with a deep cut that showed the bone. Blood flowed down his arm and dripped onto the ground, forming a small puddle of blood.
There were scorch marks on his chest, burned by holy light; the flesh was torn apart and the bones were faintly visible.
His face was covered in blood, it was impossible to tell whether it was his own blood or the enemy’s.
But his battle ax was still in his hand. His eyes were still sparkling.
The guard commander lost his right arm from Lang Hao’s attack and fled in a miserable state.
His severed arm was scorched by Lang Hao’s ax blade. There was no bleeding, but the pain almost made him faint.
He hid behind a group of divine cultivators, directing them to continue the attack.
Even though the divine cultivators were numerous, they felt daunted by the raging fighting style of the beastmen.
They did not dare to approach, only attacking from a distance with holy light.
Lang Hao saw David emerge from the depths of the mine, followed by a group of cultivators dressed in rags.
He knew the mission was complete.
“Retreat! Retreat now!”
At his order, the orc soldiers began to retreat in an orderly manner.
They protected David and the rescued cultivators, fought and retreated.
The divine cultivators gave chase for a while, but then did not dare to pursue any further for fear of being ambushed.
The mine was in complete disarray.
The barrier shattered, the light curtain shattered, and gold flakes scattered all over the ground, slowly fading in the morning light.
The stone palace collapsed, and black rock fragments piled up to form a small hill.
The mine shaft was charred black by the fire, but smoke was still rising from the entrance.
The corpses of divine cultivators were scattered all over the ground; some were split in half, some were charred to ashes, and some were frozen into ice statues.
The air was filled with the smell of burning, blood, and smoke.
In the open space in the middle of the mine, lay the corpses of dozens of orc warriors.
They were covered with animal skins, which were temporarily placed on their bodies by their living brethren.
Their faces were covered, so their expressions couldn’t be seen.
But their hands were still gripping their weapons, their fingers stiff and impossible to open.
Lang Hao knelt before the body of a young soldier and remained silent for a long time.
It was his son.
As a true Immortal Realm second level disciple, this was his first and last time on the battlefield.
There was a fist-sized hole in his chest, which was penetrated by the holy sword of light.
His eyes were closed, and his face showed no pain; he was very calm, as if he was sleeping.
Lang Hao reached out and gently touched his son’s face.
Her hands were shaking, but there were no tears on her face.
Orc warriors, don’t cry.
“Take him away.” His voice was so hoarse that it was almost inaudible.
Two orc warriors came and took Wolf Fang’s corpse away.
Lang Hao stood up, staring at the mine, a cold glint flashing through his eyes.
“Judicial Council, I have recorded this debt.”
The atmosphere was tense in the Sirius tribe’s camp.
Inside the tent, the groans of the injured rose and fell.
The orc healers were very busy, using potions and the power of their blood to stop bleeding, connect bones, and heal the wounded.
Some injuries were too severe that medics were unable to save them, and they could only watch helplessly as their bodies died.
Lang Hao sat in the main tent, silent.
His left arm had been bandaged and the wound on his chest had been treated, but his face was still pale and his eyes were filled with fatigue.
David entered the main tent and sat opposite him.
“Wolf Tribe Chief Hao, how much loss did the Sirius Tribe suffer this time?”
Lang Hao was silent for a moment.
“Seventy-three people died in battle, one hundred and twenty people were seriously injured, and many others had minor injuries.”
His voice was calm, but David could hear the sadness behind the calm. “Of the five hundred people who left, less than three hundred returned. My son has also died.”
David was silent.
He knew that feeling, the feeling of losing a loved one.
He’s lost before. He knew that kind of pain, which couldn’t be relieved by words.
He took out a pile of crystals from his storage ring and placed them on the table.
The crystals inside the tent emitted sparkling light, illuminating the entire tent.
Each piece was the size of a fist, clear as crystal, and so rich in spiritual energy that it almost condensed into liquid.
FAQ Novel
Q: What creature acts as a protector in this chapter?
A: A fire qilin is depicted defending the mine.
Q: How does the fire qilin enhance its abilities?
A: It significantly boosts its strength by absorbing various resources.
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