Chapter 163: The Nations on the Sheep's Horn (Part I)

"If you are confident you can capture him, then go ahead, Priest."

Attila left behind what sounded like a mocking remark and turned to enter the large tent.

The priest's shriveled face was fixed intently on Ye Ran, and the greedy expression in her eyes finally faded away bit by bit.

Naturally, she understood what Attila meant.

If she was confident she could lead the Death Warriors to capture Ye Ran, she should go right ahead and do it; but if she failed to capture him while suffering heavy losses among the Death Warriors, she would have no choice but to follow the horse-archers' rules...

The witch shook her head, leaning on her green staff, and walked back to her encampment with a stooped back. Attila worshipped brute strength, while Imoshe worshipped sorcery. As a witch, she really ought to have thrown her lot in with that old scoundrel Imoshe.

"Your Highness, are we just going to slink away like a pair of cowards? That fellow Attila was being utterly arrogant. This is a complete trampling of your dignity. I should think you'd muster the courage of a prince and a knight to fight that bastard to the death,"

Gary the swordsman, who was driving the carriage for Charlie and the other ladies, complained with deep resentment.

Attila's arrow just now hadn't frightened him. Although he knew Attila hadn't used his full strength with that shot, as the former premier swordsman of the Fire Kingdom, he was confident he could escape unscathed even if he went toe-to-toe with Attila.

No one in this world could match Gary's speed; that was his unchanging creed.

Geraint, holding his cavalry lance, said, "Gary, a prince whose country has fallen and a knight walking the path of vengeance have no right to speak of dignity—especially when we have a much more important mission right now."

He turned his head to glance briefly at the carriage, the eyes behind his Redemption Mask softening.

Nothing in this world was more important than Miss Charlie's life, he told himself silently...

"Sigh, are we really just going to slink off like this..."

Qian Long in the back was also sighing.

Although his title as the premier martial artist of Violent Flow City had a somewhat exaggerated ring to it, he rarely felt so aggrieved when facing opponents. A humiliation as frustrating as this one was a true rarity.

Naturally, he wanted to charge into that damned tent, drag that so-called "Lord of Demons" out from right under the noses of the Death Warriors, and beat him to a pulp so he would regret his provocation just now.

But upon second thought, he decided against it. Although Attila's two arrows hadn't targeted him, he could clearly sense the terrifying power contained within them. Probably all of them sitting here—Ye Ran, Charlie, Geraint, Gary, and himself combined—would barely manage a hard-fought battle against him, not to mention that Attila also had dozens of fierce Death Warriors at his command.

"As expected of the leader of the Bone-Swallower tribe; that is the kind of strength he ought to possess."

Ye Ran didn't mind it all that much. The torn webbing between his thumb and forefinger healed almost instantly. Although he had been suppressed in the clash of strength just now, that single arrow had made his blood boil.

Attila the Horse-Archer—a man who could suppress half of his Primordial Calamity essence through pure physical might alone. This gave him a clear view of his subsequent cultivation path; he still had vast room for improvement.

"What surprises me is that he just let us walk away like this," Ye Ran said.

Qian Long shrugged. "Otherwise? Keep us here, get his Death Warriors wiped out, exhaust himself to the bone, and let Imoshe reap the profits? If he couldn't even figure out something that basic, he wouldn't be worthy of being called the 'Lord of Demons'."

Ye Ran nodded, neither confirming nor denying it.

He closed his eyes and tuned in to his own body.

The fleeting moment when the blood flowed backward from his thumb web just now reminded him of his encounter with Siser back then. When he broke through the swarm of horse-worms using Gong Ziyue's divine weapon, his blood had surged backward into his body in the very same manner.

At the time, he had assumed it was the effect of the Twin Life-Linked Curse that Gong Ziyue had left inside him.

Now, it appeared not to be the case. It was likely the influence of the Blood Moon within his own body.

The autumn wind blew, plunging his vision into darkness. When he banished all distracting thoughts, he found himself once again cast into the void, sitting all alone and desolate amidst the gloom. Four blood-red stone monuments stood erect in the directions of the four cardinal points, pitch-black runes constantly intersecting in the air like orderly stellar orbits.

Yet, try as he might, he could not fathom the mysteries hidden within those black runes.

Magalian had claimed these were merely the names of the Moon Clan heroes of the past carved by the Rabbit-men, but Ye Ran knew clearly that this wasn't correct—at least not entirely. These runes were definitely not meaningless memorials and curses.

Ever since the blood stone monuments had fused with his body, he had been observing these runes, yet he had yielded no results thus far.

This time, however, a blood moon had manifested within the void where he resided.

Scarlet as blood, hauntingly gorgeous and sorrowful. The moment this blood moon appeared, the pitch-black runes began to spin faster, while the blood moon remained utterly motionless—a sight that involuntarily reminded Ye Ran of the stars and the moon in the night sky.

Qian Long, driving the carriage outside, turned his head to glance at him. The blood moon on Ye Ran's forehead was swelling and shrinking, flickering in and out of view, and the power radiating from his body fluctuated between strong and weak. Knowing that Ye Ran was at a critical juncture of comprehension, Qian Long refrained from disturbing him and silently continued to steer the carriage.

"The Battle of Eternal Rest, the Rabbit-men's curse, the Blood Moon lineage... What on earth is the Blood Moon lineage?"

After a long while, Ye Ran opened his eyes, his forehead drenched in sweat.

He still could not fathom those pitch-black runes or the four blood stone monuments.

Qian Long handed him a handkerchief and said, "Don't rack your brain over it. If something passed down for millennia were that easy to comprehend, would it have fallen into your hands? Having it fuse with your body is already a supreme stroke of fortune. Just leave the rest to fate. Sometimes you ought to trust in destiny a little—even though that bastard is always playing tricks on you, there are times when he takes you seriously, isn't that right?"

"Besides, you still have the 'Blessing of the God of Love' now."

Ye Ran took the handkerchief, wiped the sweat from his brow, and nodded. The sequelae of forcibly breaking through his Calamity power last time were still fresh in his memory, and with the cat-girl absent, he had no desire to take such a risk again.

Thinking of the "Blessing of the God of Love," he found himself torn between laughter and tears; to this day, he still couldn't tell whether Freya's bluffing ability actually had any real effect.

Looking ahead, the wasteland was nearing its end, and further on lay treacherous mountain trails.

"How long have we been traveling?"

"About fourteen days, I suppose."

It had been nearly half a month since they left the land of Iposhe, yet Constantinople remained distant. They had only just crossed the Gray Fifteenth District, and ahead lay more of the horse-archers' territory.

"Perhaps we'll run into that fellow called Imoshe."

Qian Long chuckled. "Maybe. Do you hope to run into him?"

Ye Ran thought for a moment and shook his head. "Forget it. That man is likely even more sinister than Attila."

"On that point, I agree. When Charlie and I were in the Gray Fourteenth District, Imoshe was thoroughly vicious. Now that he can stand on equal footing with Attila, he must be far worse than he was back then. You have no idea—he was already making a name for himself back during the War of the Nations long ago."

"The War of the Nations?"

Ye Ran hadn't read extensively and had always been fascinated by such historical exploits.

"That was a war from long before the horse-archers founded their nation—a war among Polan, Majiton, Sparks, and the Roman Dynasty..."