Shaman Smoke Congeals in Silence, Enemy Traces Vanish; Traps Feign Cries, Deceiving the Shallow and Foolish

The corpses of two Xiongnu soldiers lay on the ground, utterly still.

Already under immense pressure and burning with irritable fury, Lufan Lie stood there drenched in blood, a great axe in hand, like a demonic god maddened by slaughter.

That bloody aura and thunderous show of force finally steadied the chaos for the moment. The soldiers who had been fleeing in panic froze where they stood, their legs still trembling uncontrollably, the fear in their eyes like ink splashed across paper—impossible to wipe away.

Yet the lingering cries from within the mist behind them, along with the rising and falling whispers throughout the ranks, still stabbed into Lufan Lie's ears like needles.

"Those monsters are coming!"

"They aren't afraid of traps at all—they're charging straight through!"

"We can't hold them back! They're a pack of monsters!"

Lufan Lie's heart sank sharply.

His first thought was that the enemy could no longer afford to drag things out and was willing to force an assault at the cost of casualties.

But in the next instant, fury surged into his heart.

These idiots!

They had actually fled so miserably into the main force's formation. Were they not openly leading the enemy here and exposing their formation?

Unease rose ever more violently, like a swelling tide.

Lufan Lie hesitated no longer. Sword in hand, he headed toward the rear ranks.

Before long, more than a thousand rearguard soldiers stumbled out of the mist like homeless dogs.

Their clothes had been slashed to tatters, their bodies were covered in dust and blades of grass, and the lingering terror on their faces was nearly spilling over.

As they ran, they kept glancing back like madmen, as though man-eating fiends lurked in the mist behind them, ready to swallow them whole the next moment.

"Run! Run!"