Inside the camp, the refugees had long been awakened by the continuous gunfire, explosions, and blinding flashes of light.
Most people speculate that this was either another group of bandits coming to "double-cross" them, or that the Insect Claw Expedition Group had internal strife.
But they had long lost the courage to run away; they could only tremble and await the outcome of the battle.
Nausicaä, Meila, Yupa, and the Horseclaw with wings on its back entered the camp.
Meila a deep breath and quickly walked to the front of the crowd.
"Everyone, I'm back!"
When Meila appeared, several gasps of surprise rang out from the refugee camp.
" Meila? What happened to you...?"
"It's over, it's all over, Meila has been captured too."
"Who are those people? What exactly happened?"
Despair spread through the crowd. They had thought the escaped Meila sisters were their last hope, but...
"I wasn't captured." Meila her head and stepped aside to let Nausicaä behind her pass.
"This is Princess Nausicaä, the chieftain of the Valley of the Wind. She and her warriors have slain the beasts of the Insect Claw and have come to save us!"
The refugees stared blankly at Meila, then at the red-haired, golden-eyed girl behind her, and the several Blessed Warrior had just arrived to maintain order.
"What... what is going on...?"
" Valley of the Wind of the Valley of the Wind? That legendary, very prosperous little valley?"
" The Insect Claw has been defeated!?"
Questions kept arising one after another.
Insect Claw was once one of the largest expedition groups, consisting of seventy people, each well-equipped, fierce, and bloodthirsty.
Even a regular army would have to put in a lot of effort to take them down, but the entire battle has only lasted less than twenty minutes.
Meila knew she had to explain things clearly from the beginning.
So, from the moment the two sisters narrowly escaped until the Valley of the Wind decided to send troops to rescue them, Meila recounted her experiences in detail.
The refugees were stunned.
The turmoil of Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, the Divine Tree, the Blessed Warrior... these words challenged their understanding.
"So... that means," a thin woman with prominent cheekbones asked cautiously, "That we're safe? We're no longer being treated like... slaves?"
As she spoke, her gaze couldn't help but drift towards Nausicaä beside her, and then towards the warriors who were still stained with blood and exuded a fierce aura.
Nausicaä met the woman's gaze and nodded slightly.
"Yes!" Meila's tears finally broke free and streamed down her face. "We... we're saved!"
She rushed forward and hugged the few familiar compatriots tightly.
The pent-up emotions burst forth at this moment, and the first sob rang out from the crowd, followed by a second, a third...
With their country destroyed and their homes destroyed, they were displaced and forced to wander. They witnessed the tragic deaths of their comrades and eked out a living in despair. Too much suffering weighed on these people.
At this moment, there is finally an outlet for my emotions.
Nausicaä did not interrupt this sorrowful scene; she turned her head and whispered something to Por beside her:
"Take some men and find the bandits' food supplies. Hurry up."
Por nodded and immediately ordered several Blessed Warrior to get to work.
Soon, they found several large iron pots in the tent and put them on the campfire that had been rekindled.
They poured the water and wheat grains stored by the bandits into a pot, added some minced meat, stirred it briefly, and then let it simmer slowly.
The aroma of food began to waft through the air.
The refugees stared longingly at the large pots, their throats bobbing up and down.
For these refugees who were already starving, even the simplest hot porridge was far more tempting than anything else.
Freedom is precious, but right now, survival and filling our stomachs are the most important things.
At the edge of the camp, Ohara, bound like a dumpling with hemp rope, was in a rather bad state.
In the previous battle, although he was temporarily blinded by a flashbang, he still managed to detonate a bunch of grenades to take everyone down with him.
Left with no other choice, Por severed his right arm with a single sword stroke.
Although the wound had been treated to stop the bleeding, the weakness caused by excessive blood loss and severe pain still lingered.
Ohara slumped onto the sand, having heard every word Meila had said to the refugees.
The more he listened, the stronger his sense of absurdity became.
"Impossible! Valley of the Wind... how could such a backward little place..."
The image of the blonde woman in white appeared in his mind, along with her description of the Valley of the Wind:
Led by an innocent young female chieftain, the village clings to tradition, is narrow-minded, and is on the verge of collapse with just a few missteps.
But what about now?
Golden lightsabers that can cut through iron like mud, mysterious light shields that can withstand bullets without being damaged, and a large number of warriors with speed and strength far exceeding that of ordinary people.
They must be hiding some kind of ancient civilization technology!
Ohara attributed the strength of the Blessed Warrior to ancient civilizations.
"Hey." Por walked up to Ohara, squatted down, and held out a bowl of freshly cooked hot porridge to his lips. "Eat something, don't starve."
Ohara abruptly raised his head and glared fiercely at Por.
"Who... who are you?! Who's behind you?"
Por raised an eyebrow. What kind of nonsense is this?
"I'll return that to you. Talk nonsense." He picked up the porridge, stood up, and left with his back turned.
I believe those poor refugees wouldn't mind having an extra bowl of porridge with shredded meat.
The humiliation of being completely ignored twisted Ohara's face.
"You... will regret this..."
The next moment, he closed his eyes, and veins bulged on his forehead.
Spiritual power began to gather around him, the sand around him moved without wind, and a buzzing sound came from the air.
Then, Ohara suddenly opened her eyes and looked at Nausicaä, who was asking about the refugees' situation not far away.
This is his talent—a mental attack powerful enough to kill an ordinary person!
Although the release will cause a splitting headache, it's enough to quell those arrogant guys—
"Um!?"
He clearly hit Nausicaä, yet he felt nothing at all.
Then, he saw an endless, dimly lit space.
"What is this--"
puff.
Ohara's mental energy crashed into the consciousness of a certain eavesdropper.
In Mu En's hometown, this situation is generally described as "like an egg hitting a rock," "an ant trying to shake a tree," "a moth flying into a flame," "showing off one's skills in front of Guan Yu," or "going headlong into battle and never returning."
Outside, Ohara's face suddenly contorted with extreme terror, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed to the ground.
Mu En:?
He sensed a slight mental fluctuation, but couldn't pinpoint its source.
Could it be that among the refugees there is a rare individual with exceptional spiritual talent?
Only Por, who was in charge of guarding the prisoners, discovered the unconscious bandit leader.
"How did this happen so suddenly?" Por crouched down to check Ohara's pulse. "Could it be due to excessive blood loss?"
Poor Ohara was quickly forgotten by him; at least he was still alive, so let him be dizzy for a while.
Right now, settling these more than one hundred weak and vulnerable refugees is the top priority.
The remaining tents were cleared out for refugees to live in; although crowded, they provided a meager shelter from the cold desert nights.
Meila took the initiative to help Nausicaä count the number of people, distribute tents, and take care of the wounded.
Her movements were swift and her thinking was clear. Coupled with her previous heroic deeds, she had gradually established prestige among the refugees.
Mu En observed all of this and nodded inwardly.
This strong-willed girl may be the best candidate to lead this group of refugees.
Soon, having eaten and drunk their fill, the refugees relaxed and fell into a deep sleep, their snores rising and falling in the tents.
The camp returned to silence.
Only the occasional crackling of the campfire and the very light footsteps of the night watchmen could be heard.
Near the stone tower, something moved through the sand, leaving several tracks.
Those tracks meandered and twisted, avoiding all areas illuminated by campfires, silently extending westward—towards the Sea of Corruption.
It eventually disappeared into the vast sea of sand, leaving no trace.