Shaman Smoke Locks the Trap, Trapping the Barbarian Dust; False Tragedies and Hollow Cries Deceive the Enemy's Body

The Xiongnu army followed the winding, twisting trail deeper into the core area. The traps ahead grew increasingly dense, and the soldiers sent ahead to test the path gradually became hesitant and fearful.

One by one, the soldiers held their backs ramrod straight, their legs trembling, cold sweat streaming down their faces, their eyes filled with terror and retreat.

Every step required immense courage.

Too many comrades had died before their eyes. Some had their chests and bellies pierced by spikes; others had collapsed convulsing after being poisoned. The despair of having no cure coiled around every heart like creeping vines.

They knew full well that those clearing the way could trigger a hidden trap at any moment, becoming a cold corpse by the roadside in the next instant—only to be thrown elsewhere by their comrades to mislead the enemy.

The column moved slower and slower. Several soldiers even secretly stopped, curling up behind tree trunks and shuddering all over. No matter how their companions urged them on, they did not dare take another step forward.

Such cowardice quickly spread. Many of the pathfinders slowed their steps, the fear in their eyes overwhelming their fighting spirit.

It was not that they did not want to test the way by throwing stones ahead or sweeping about with sticks.

The traps their former allies had set were simply too vicious. Many could not be tested out at all; those that could be tested already bore markers and needed no testing. It had become a deadlock.

Left with no alternative, Tuoba Gu could only personally rush to the front of the column.

"Cowards die!"

The bronze ring-pommel saber in his hand left its sheath. A flash of cold light streaked forth, and in an instant, he cut down two retreaters huddled at the