Volume One Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Enemy Leader

The newcomer was none other than Zhang the Butcher from the village.

Zhang the Butcher’s real name was Zhang Shunlai. With a face full of bristling beard and a body packed with muscle, his very appearance could silence a crying child. Yet, in Dongsha Village, Zhang the Butcher was the most beloved figure among the children.

There was no mystery to it. Whenever their parents returned from Zhang the Butcher’s house, the children could be sure a delicious meal of stewed meat awaited them.

At this moment, Zhang the Butcher strode forward, gripping a razor-sharp slaughter knife. He was draped in a heavy leather apron, a cloth mask tied across his face to shield against the swirling sand.

His burly frame charged forward with an unstoppable force, sending several sand jackals in his path flying. His knife rose and fell in swift arcs, yet not a single dull sound of blade against bone could be heard. In the blink of an eye, a dozen jackals lay twitching on the ground, frothing at the mouth.

Mo De couldn’t help but silently admire the man’s dazzling knife work. Each strike was fast and precise; the blade slid half an inch along the spinal gap, severing the nerve cluster before withdrawing instantly, already seeking the next target.

Though he marveled at the butcher’s skill, Mo De did not pause. His own short blade flashed coldly, and jackals continued to fall wherever he struck.

“You’ve got remarkable skill, Brother Qin Mo!” After clearing the area, Zhang the Butcher gave Qin Mo a thumbs-up before dashing off into the yellow sand, eager to support the next defensive line.

“What exquisite knife work,” Mu Qing sighed as she watched the burly figure vanish.

“See how clean and efficient his strikes are? Now look at you.” She eyed the bloodstained patches on Mo De’s clothes and shifted away, as if wishing to keep her distance.

“And now you want cleanliness? Weren’t you the one wrestling me in the swamp, rolling in the mud?” Mo De retorted, unhesitatingly bringing up old grievances.

Once the villagers behind them had finished their repairs and the defensive line was reestablished, only then did the two stop their bickering and return to battle, charging together once more into the storm of sand and beasts.

The defensive battle raged from dawn until well past noon, but as the sandstorm gradually subsided, the onslaught of jackal hordes and beast tribes grew less fierce.

Seizing a rare respite, Mo De and Mu Qing found a rooftop to rest, sharing dried rations and fresh water brought by the villagers.

The beast-repelling concealment barrier on the village’s perimeter had long since failed, and only the isolation barrier—holding back the tides of frenzied beasts wrought by the lunar phase—remained barely functional.

From their vantage on the rooftop, they could see distant waves of strange beasts still surging toward the battlefront. One massive jackal was gnawing on the corpse of another beast, its aged, withered pelt seeming to regain a ghostly sheen.

This, no doubt, was the true culprit behind the beast tide—a dying old jackal, revived by the frenzied lunar current, now restored to its former glory and gathering other wild beasts to assault the village.

To shoot the horse before the rider, to capture the king before the thief—since the instigator had revealed itself, Village Chief Shang Qingwen wasted no time in dispatching messengers to summon Mo De and his companion to assemble.

After a brief discussion, Mo De and Mu Qing joined the decapitation squad. Their team included several of the village’s finest, among them Zhang the Butcher, whose knife had already made a profound impression.

To Mo De’s surprise, he also spotted Chen Luoluo, the deputy leader of the “Long Dragon” expedition team, among their ranks.

Sensing Mo De’s gaze, Chen Luoluo only offered him a gentle nod and remained quietly at her place.

Meanwhile, Zhou Meiqiong, fully armed but not chosen for the squad, waved enthusiastically when she saw them. After issuing a few last instructions to Chen Luoluo, Zhou Meiqiong reluctantly let go of her hand, glancing back again and again as she rejoined the rest of the expedition team, looking for all the world like an anxious parent sending her child off to school.

Among the group, aside from Mo De, even the weakest members were late-stage Gate Channel cultivators, most at the very peak of their realm. Zhang the Butcher, it turned out, had already reached the External Realm, as had a woman named Wei Qiaoyun. As for Chen Luoluo’s true abilities, no one could say; all they knew was that after Zhou Meiqiong spoke with the village chief, Shang Qingwen had agreed to let Chen Luoluo join the operation.

“How strong is that young woman?” Mo De whispered to Mu Qing.

“If you want to know how strong this sister is, why not ask her yourself?” Mu Qing replied, biting into her steamed bun.

Mo De shrugged, knowing Mu Qing was displeased at his refusal to call her “sister.” He could flatter strangers with sweet words, but with Mu Qing, he had no such inclination.

Don’t get him wrong—he wasn’t treating her specially. But if he gave in once, this rascal would only push her luck further. Who knew what outrageous demands Mu Qing might make if she ever tired of hearing “sister”?

Mo De kept telling himself not to indulge Mu Qing, though he nearly always ended up yielding to her anyway.

He politely declined the protective armor offered by the villagers, relying instead on his own metallic abilities and robust physique. Such gear would only weigh him down.

Fixing his gaze on the distant horde, Mo De’s expression grew calm. He had faith in his own strength, but the foes before him were no less formidable, and he would need to give them his full attention.

Under the mounting influence of the frenzied lunar phase, many jackals had already broken through to the second tier of cultivation. Some among them were visibly larger than their peers, their aura surpassing even late-stage Gate Channel cultivators and nearing perfection in their realm.

As for the massive, ancient jackal king, it had almost certainly crossed into the External Realm.

“Move out.” Shang Qingwen’s powerful voice rang out, and the decapitation squad sprang into action, a living spearhead charging straight into the oncoming beasts.

Cuihua, the young girl who usually bustled at Doctor Ma’s side, straightened up to watch the squad vanish into the dust. She clenched her tiny fists, silently cheering them on.

At the forefront, Zhang Shunlai wielded not just his slender boning knife, but also a heavy-backed cleaver. With both blades opening the way, every jackal beast in his path collapsed, thin streams of blood only welling from their wounds after the team had already passed.

The flanks, meanwhile, were far more brutal. On Mo De’s right, Yang Yichan swung a black staff with wild abandon as he ran, sending beasts flying with every blow. The crack of shattering bones was ceaseless in the chaos.

This time, Mo De was wiser, forming a thin layer of gold over his skin to shield himself from splattering blood, his blade and scabbard striking out relentlessly.

Mu Qing, meanwhile, trailed along at her leisure, peering through her sunglasses to steal glances at Chen Luoluo in the opposing squad.

The gentle, silent woman now wielded a three-foot ice sword, slicing down beast after beast. Every wound her sword left was instantly sealed with frost, not a single drop of blood spraying forth.