Chaotic Rescue (Part Two)

Chaotic Rescue (Part Two)

The silver-armored general stood at the edge of the deep pit, truly anxious now. Although he had always looked down on the eldest son of the Duke of Martial Might, if anything were to happen to the young master during the escort, his own life would likely be forfeit as well.

Peering into the massive mountain hollow, where swirling sand obscured all vision, the only thought in the general’s mind was to ensure the young master survived his attack.

A streak of light shot out from the sand pit. The silver-armored general was startled, barely having time to raise his spear to shield his chest.

With a sharp crack, he felt an odd force seize his weapon. Before he could muster his energy in defense, his bright silver spear was shattered by a flying hammer, which struck his chest with tremendous impact. His organs roiled from the blow, and he spat a mouthful of blood before his body was hurled backward.

Wu Hong climbed out of the sand pit, gasping for breath. The strange energy coursing through him was nearly incapacitating, but he seized the chance while his opponent was distracted to launch that flying hammer. Although Wu Hong’s physical cultivation was weak, the bizarre strength surging through his body was terrifying, and the general had suffered for his momentary carelessness.

Wu Hong staggered out of the pit, seeing the silver-armored general lying motionless in the sand some ten meters away. Emboldened, he struggled toward the fallen figure.

Approaching, Wu Hong saw the general’s breastplate had collapsed inward, likely a mortal wound. He bent to retrieve his hammer.

Suddenly, the general’s eyes snapped open, gleaming with a fierce light. With two rapid jabs, he struck Wu Hong’s pressure points. Startled, Wu Hong felt his entire body go numb and lost the ability to move, collapsing to the ground.

“Boy, I must admit, for a so-called useless young master, you have a few tricks after all,” the general said, springing up and clutching his chest, breathing heavily.

Though immobilized, Wu Hong could still hear, and his heart sank. The gap in their cultivation was too great—his carelessness had cost him dearly.

Effortlessly, the silver-armored general lifted Wu Hong and hurried away, though his pace was much slower, clearly suffering from Wu Hong’s blow.

When the general returned to the scene of the earlier battle, his face turned deathly pale: all the soldiers escorting the prisoners lay dead.

In fury, the general spat blood and roared at the sky, “Damn it—ah!”

Since joining the army at twelve, he had earned countless military honors and advanced steadily in martial arts. Though his humble origins meant he was never fully trusted by his superiors, he had never felt so stifled as today.

With no other choice, the general hastily buried the soldiers’ bodies and carried Wu Hong onward.

He dared not camp outdoors, fearing further mishaps. Though he cared little for his own safety, the risks were simply too great.

The general carried Wu Hong through the desert all night.

The strange energy within Wu Hong gradually dissipated. This was because the general, subconsciously holding back during his attack, had spared Wu Hong’s life; had he struck with full force, his internal energy would have shredded Wu Hong’s organs instantly.

By dawn, the general finally spotted a small thatched inn by a desert brook.

Excitement flickered in his eyes—he had heard of this inn. Standing alone in the sands, it catered to travelers, offering fresh water and fish and shrimp, making it a popular stop.

Fatigued from his internal injuries, the general was nearly exhausted.

Wu Hong, meanwhile, sensed something about the inn. Built beside the brook with two large willow trees flanking the huts, it appeared serene but emanated a subtle aura of killing intent.

Perhaps this was because Wu Hong had worked in a slaughterhouse before. Or perhaps it was the cultivation technique he practiced, which made his body’s energy particularly sensitive to murderous intent.

The general, likely too tired to notice, carried Wu Hong into the inn.

Inside, a cheerful attendant greeted them, “Gentlemen, what can I get for you? Lodging or a meal?”

“Bring me ten pounds of beef and two pounds of strong liquor!” The general deftly moved his fingers, loosening some of Wu Hong’s pressure points.

Wu Hong felt his limbs regain movement, though he still lacked any strength; some of his points remained sealed, apparently to prevent another escape.

“Right away—ten pounds of beef, two pounds of liquor!” The attendant called out the order.

There were no other guests—only Wu Hong and the general.

Soon, ten pounds of braised beef and two pounds of liquor were set before them. The general, a warrior by nature, paid no heed to etiquette, grabbing a hunk of beef and devouring it as though he hadn’t eaten in days.

Wu Hong picked up a piece but found himself unable to swallow.

He realized immediately that this so-called beef was no beef at all.

Having spent over a month slaughtering cattle, Wu Hong was intimately familiar with beef’s texture. This unprocessed meat was far too tender—he became instantly wary.

“Hmph—young master, do you disdain such coarse fare? Still, I advise you to eat something, or I’ll have to carry you all the way to the capital!” The general mocked as he ate voraciously.

Wu Hong saw no reason to warn him of any danger.

He smiled faintly, saying, “What rubbish beef is this? How can anyone eat it?”

The general assumed Wu Hong was simply too pampered to stomach such rough food and devoured it with even greater gusto.

He poured a large bowl of liquor and downed it, not out of carelessness but because of his own confidence.

Even if the inn posed a threat, ordinary poisons would be useless against a martial master such as himself—something Wu Hong could not know.

“Excellent wine! Bring me two more pounds!” the general exclaimed, instructing the attendant.

After observing for a while, Wu Hong saw the general suffer no ill effects from the meat or liquor—his own hunger and thirst compelled him to drink, though he still dared not touch the beef.

Perhaps he was being overly cautious; everything seemed normal.

Wu Hong poured himself a cup of liquor, hesitated, then drank it in one gulp. Instantly, his throat burned fiercely—indeed, it was fine wine.

Even for Wu Hong, raised in luxury at the Duke’s manor, this was exceptional drink.

A glint flashed in Wu Hong’s eyes. Something was wrong—why would such excellent wine be served in a remote place like this?

The general noticed it too, but dismissed the concern.

At his level of cultivation, ordinary poisons were meaningless. He planned to eat and drink his fill, then deal with the innkeeper before continuing his journey with Wu Hong.

But after several bowls, the general realized something was amiss. His internal energy became chaotic, refusing to obey his command—a shock like no other.

With a crash, he overturned the table and glared ferociously. Summoning his energy to resist the wine’s effects, his consciousness grew hazy.

Alarmed, the general realized this drugged wine was potent—far more than ordinary poison, able to disrupt his internal energy.

Regret swept over him. After all the setbacks escorting Wu Hong, how could he have let down his guard now?

“Ha ha—today we’ve caught a fat sheep!” the attendant laughed, eyeing the general.

“How dare you?” the general roared. He had slain countless enemies and reached the peak of body refinement, yet now he’d been tripped up in this humble inn.

Enraged, he trembled, trying to marshal his energy, but his mind spun and he collapsed to the ground.

Wu Hong, having consumed less of the drugged wine, was startled to see the general fall, and soon felt his own head grow heavy.

He had no idea how long he lay unconscious. Before even opening his eyes, he heard voices nearby.

“So, who is this kid to the Boss? Why did she rescue him?” two attendants whispered.

“Who knows? Maybe he’s the Boss’s secret lover! Ha ha—” They giggled, “But the Boss never had such tastes before! We have thousands of brothers up the mountain, all men—why does she favor this yellow-skinned monkey?”

“Hush—the Boss is coming back. Keep your voice down, or she’ll cut out your tongue!” Clearly, their so-called Boss held great authority.

“Tsk tsk—that silver-armored general was fierce! He drank so much of the Boss’s special poison wine, yet his internal energy didn’t kill him outright?”

“Bah! He was just a farmhand, killed so many of our brothers, and still ended up as water buffalo meat!”

Wu Hong’s heart pounded as he listened—surely the silver-armored warrior had met his end. Just then—

“What are you two gossiping about?” a harsh female voice called from outside, reaching Wu Hong’s ears.