Sacrificing Oneself to Feed One's Child

Tian Ji's horse-racing was a fine story—educational and entertaining, a model of the weak defeating the strong. After Xu Yuan's series of maneuvers, the two sides within the prefectural city had more or less formed a similar situation.

After all, the sect's side happened to have three people left as well.

But unfortunately, reality was far crueler than stories.

The sect's three were all top-tier "sweating-blooded steeds," while on Xu Yuan's side, aside from his maternal uncle, there were mules, donkeys, oxen, and horses—every sort of mixed breed imaginable.

Still, overall, they could put up a fight.

Feng Jiuxuan was slightly stronger than the White Emperor.

And although the three Kirin Wolf Saints were each oxen and horses, with the formations and military arrays inside the prefectural yamen added in, five against one against that stooped old man, an upper-class horse—however he looked at it, they had a chance of winning.

The only fly in the ointment was that they were short one person, and he, Xu Yuan, had to step in to make up the numbers as a mule.

Xu Yuan had always possessed a clear understanding of himself. Though his words had sounded impressive, one could lose the fight but not the bearing.

But asking him to fight Tianyuan?

How should he put it?

Well, It was pretty despairing.

Despair or not, this was a situation he had set up with his own hands. Even if he had to cry, he still had to grit his teeth and go through with it.

Look on the bright side: Xu Yuan was, at any rate, a mechanics monster now. He might not be able to win, but he had some hope of holding Tianyuan back.

Probably.

Rumble—

As his body was smashed into the ground, every cell in Xu Yuan's