Chapter 12

In the afternoon, the sunlight filtered through the dense tree canopy, casting sparse patches of light on the forest floor.

The forest was very humid. Although the sunlight was blocked out, the heat wave could not be kept out, making the entire forest like a giant steamer.

The cries of the natives echoed far and wide.

These natives from Handanar County had been driven from the plains to the mountains by the demons. However, the natives did not seem to bear much grudge against these demons. Instead, they constantly caused trouble for the Green Empire soldiers, with small groups of natives engaging in guerrilla warfare in the jungle, becoming the biggest headache for the Green Empire's supply lines.

The Green Empire occupied this land merely for its rich resources. Some slave traders within the Green Empire would at most capture some natives and sell them to the major lords of the Roland Continent's main plane as slaves. But in the eyes of the demons, these natives were merely food that emitted a sour smell...

The two natives guarding the tribal chief soon noticed He Boqiang. They mistook He Boqiang for a native who had fallen behind. Seeing He Boqiang running over, they pointed to the main force charging ahead with their wooden spears, signaling him to catch up quickly.

He Boqiang remained silent all along. When he was less than twenty meters away from the tribal chief, the two natives finally noticed something different about him.

At this moment, the tribal chief also realized that He Boqiang was not a native. He let out a strange cry and commanded the muscular native under him to retreat. The two natives holding wooden spears rushed towards He Boqiang in large strides.

The distance of twenty meters was just a few seconds for He Boqiang and the two natives. He Boqiang did not slow down at all as he ran. He charged towards one of the natives. Just as the two were about to collide, the native thrust his wooden spear fiercely at He Boqiang.

He Boqiang, however, exerted his legs and leaped high, swinging his Roman sword like lightning, striking the native's wooden spear with precision.

The hardwood spear broke with a snap. He Boqiang took the opportunity to elbow the native's face and kneed his chest. The collision produced a series of bone-cracking sounds, and the native was knocked to the ground. He Boqiang immediately stepped over his body and chased after the retreating tribal chief.

Realizing he could not escape, the tribal chief urged the muscular native under him to charge at He Boqiang. The tribal chief swung a wooden stick with a banner tied to it at He Boqiang, accompanied by a red flame.

He Boqiang was startled by the fire and dodged the burning wooden stick by sidestepping. The stick grazed his cheek, and the scorching flame caused a sharp pain.

Seeing his attack succeed, the tribal chief was overjoyed and gave orders in a gibberish language for the muscular native to pursue He Boqiang.

Although He Boqiang was physically strong, he lacked combat experience. The muscular native, carrying the tribal chief, stepped forward and kicked He Boqiang in the abdomen. He Boqiang stumbled backward, instinctively thrusting his Roman sword forward. His wrist moved upward, slicing a two-foot-long wound in the native's chest. The internal organs oozed out through the wound, spilling onto the ground.

The muscular native let out a mournful cry and fell to the ground.

The tribal chief, who was riding on his neck, also lost his balance and fell.

He Boqiang did not expect his body's instinctive reaction to be so fierce. He had been somewhat panicked and his mind was blank, but his actions were purely subconscious, and he had managed to kill the muscular native.

The fallen tribal chief dropped the banner-tied staff. As he was about to crawl over to retrieve it, He Boqiang, not allowing him to regain his weapon, gripped his Roman sword tightly, bit his teeth, and pounced on the tribal chief, stabbing the sharp Roman sword into the tribal chief's back.

A native guard, who had caught up from behind, thrust his wooden spear at He Boqiang's neck.

Out of instinct, He Boqiang instinctively hunched his chest and lowered his head, and the spear narrowly missed his scalp.

He Boqiang grabbed the spear with one hand and thrust his Roman sword into the native guard's chest with the other. The native guard, clutching his chest, fell on top of the tribal chief. Worried that the native guard might struggle in his dying moments, He Boqiang grabbed the native guard's messy braids and slashed his neck with the Roman sword, killing him instantly.

After killing three natives in succession, the adrenaline in his body continued to surge, and his heart pounded like a drum. He Boqiang, exhausted, sat on the forest floor covered with dead leaves, his tightly clenched Roman sword slipping from his hand. The blood on his body quickly coagulated, and his palms felt sticky.

He Boqiang wanted to find some dead leaves to wipe the blood off his hands.

Before he could catch his breath, the natives hiding in the dense forest discovered that their chief had been killed and immediately began shouting urgently. The news of the chief's death spread quickly.

Natives from the surrounding areas began to converge on He Boqiang's location. Although the natives had not yet arrived, a barrage of arrows flew towards him, one of which landed at He Boqiang's feet and lost its momentum.

Seeing countless natives closing in, He Boqiang was terrified and did not hesitate. He picked up the Roman sword and the tribal chief's banner-tied staff and fled towards a gap in the encirclement.

The natives charging at the front also learned of the chief's death and immediately scattered. Countless natives pursued the lone He Boqiang, abandoning the easy victory.

Fearing that the angry natives would tear him apart, He Boqiang ran with all his might in the direction he had come from. Some natives tried to stop him along the way, but no one could hold him back.

Behind He Boqiang, hundreds of natives formed a fan shape, shouting and chasing after him.

He Boqiang did not expect that killing the tribal chief alone would anger all the natives. He did not dare to look back and only ran forward with all his might.

He did not know how far he had run, but his legs felt increasingly heavy, and the air he inhaled seemed never enough. His throat began to taste salty, and He Boqiang knew he was starting to tire. The natives, however, were still hot on his heels, not falling far behind.

As he ran, He Boqiang's feet stumbled, and he tripped over something. His body uncontrollably flew forward, his face slamming into the forest floor covered with leaves. He somersaulted forward, like a hard-landing plane, scattering a large area of leaves. He was dazed and disoriented, his mind blank, with only one thought: 'It's over!'

Just as he was in despair, a melodious horn sounded from the other side of the forest, followed by a boiling cry of battle...