The Lonely Bow Drinks Resentment in the Barren Sands, A Hero's Ambition Falls to the Netherworld in an Instant

Jing Huan was leading four Death Warriors toward Carriage Nine, intending to force their way in after Zhao Jiu shattered the window.

Then he heard several successive, terrifying sounds of air being torn apart and instinctively turned back.

Then he saw Zhao Jiu nailed to the ground.

In that instant, Jing Huan's pupils shrank to pinpoints.

A chill shot from his tailbone straight to the crown of his head. It felt as though countless icy needles had pierced his scalp at once, numbing him until he nearly lost all sensation.

"Bed crossbow... rapid fire..."

Jing Huan's voice was dry as if scraped across sandpaper, every word reeking of blood.

One of the Death Warriors behind him went deathly pale, his lips trembling. "Lord Jing... L-Lord Jing, how... how are we supposed to fight this?

"That's a bed crossbow... a bed crossbow meant for defending cities..."

Another Death Warrior had already unconsciously taken half a step back.

His gaze drifted—not toward the enemy, but in search of an escape route.

"Retreat..."

The third man muttered, his voice as faint as a dreamer's murmur. "If we don't retreat now, we'll all die here..."

Jing Huan's resolve wavered as well.

His gaze shifted from Zhao Jiu's corpse to the pitch-black bed crossbow atop the carriage, then to the Rail-Car still racing wildly in the distance.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. His saliva was so dry, it felt as if he had swallowed a handful of sand.

Just as he was about to order a retreat—

"None of you are allowed to retreat!!!"

A thunderous roar exploded through the air!

Gongshu Yuan had appeared three zhang from Jing Huan's side at some unknown moment. His ash-gray hemp robes snapped in the wind, his withered frame like an old tree trunk struck by