Barbarian Blood Crosses the Great Wasteland by Night, Iron Fingers Grind Immortal Treasures to Dust

Deep within the toxic miasma of the Great Wasteland.

The rain fell harder and harder.

Bare-chested, Lu Chen shouldered the shattered black stele weighing thirty thousand jin with his broad left shoulder. His feet seemed to ride the wind as they crushed through layer after layer of rotting mud, and he strode deep into the heart of this man-eating black forest.

More than five zhang behind him, Fourth Li gripped a battered iron spear and led over a hundred barely clothed mine slaves, following grimly at his heels.

In the party of over a hundred, aside from the squelching of iron boots stepping into mud and water, not a single person whispered to another. There was not even an idle word.

This was the tacit understanding they had clawed and crawled out of the mire with.

No one needed to teach them. Deep in their bones, these mud-legged folk understood that when following behind this great fiend, keeping their mouths shut and hurrying onward was the greatest rule.

The rainwater overhead gradually changed color. Mixed with the foul miasma lingering above the forest, it splattered against their bodies with a piercingly fishy stench that burrowed straight into their pores.

This corrosive toxic rain left their flesh bright red wherever it landed.

Fourth Li did not even furrow his brow. He gestured to several of the sturdier mine slaves beside him.

Seven or eight men immediately drew the chipped, curled short blades at their waists, passed through the crowd, and rushed to the very front of the party.

Blades rose and fell.

Thick vines covered in barbs and venom were hacked apart one after another. In this pathless poisonous forest, they forcibly cleared a broad straight road for their benefactor walking at the front.

These lowly laborers could not accomplish anything