After Wang Anfeng entered the formation, Sheng Zhehan withdrew his attention and surveyed the surrounding terrain. He quickly assessed the situation, and his dozens of subordinate wolf riders dispersed, each using the remnants of the ancient walls of Loulan for cover.
As a member of a tribe skilled in mounted archery, their archery skills were extraordinary. Even in a defensive posture, as long as they had arrows, they could unleash great power. Seeing his subordinates all occupy advantageous positions, Sheng Zhehan slightly relaxed, but still gripped his strong bow tightly.
He didn't know much about the enemy they were about to face; in such a short time, Wang Anfeng and Lv Yingbo had neither the time nor the inclination to explain things to him. However, based on his own judgment, it wasn't hard to surmise that the opponent they were about to face was likely the mysterious organization behind the Great Wilderness Stronghold.
And that organization was even linked to the Golden Empire, something that the so-called masters of the Western Regions Jianghu could not match.
They could only do their best.
Sheng Zhehan exhaled, lost in thought, when something suddenly flew over from the side. He caught it casually and found it was a porcelain bottle. Lv Yingbo, his face pale, withdrew his right hand and said calmly:
"In a moment, someone will definitely come."
"If I make a move, remember to take the elixir in advance, or you will be affected and may lose your life."
Sheng Zhehan recalled the effects he suffered from Lv Yingbo's poison in the inn earlier. His expression tensed for a moment but then eased slightly as he nodded lightly, turning to distribute the antidote pills from the porcelain bottle to everyone.
The elixirs were bitter, yet within them lay a sense of reassurance.
He and Gu Qinghan had previously suffered from Lv Yingbo's poison, so they knew its potency. Just a mere contact with the outermost part resulted in headaches and fevers within moments, greatly weakening a martial artist's strength—it could mean the difference between life and death in a confrontation.
With such a master of group combat with them, no matter how strong the incoming enemies were, they should be able to manage. Holding out for one or two Hours; if the Blade Madman had already retrieved the sword, that would naturally be for the best. Even if they hadn't received the divine weapon's approval, they should emerge by then.
These one or two Hours, they would be able to defend no matter what.
Settling down, they waited in silence, but soon, a commotion erupted from the northeast side. Sheng Zhehan's expression changed, and he leapt over, seeing arrows falling like rain over the ground, where several fearsome, fierce-looking men lay dead, lifeless.
Judging by their attire, they were bandits using this place as a base. At this moment, returning from a raid, they had entered the Bokel Family's defensive range, thus losing their lives.
Seeing this, Sheng Zhehan's tension somewhat eased. He exchanged a few words with the Bokel Family's martial artists, then returned to his original position, suddenly realizing that this area was the only place with some shelter from the elements. Naturally, bandits would have an eye on it.
During this period, if bandits returned, they weren't the ones they had to worry about, but arrows were ultimately limited. After using them once, their accuracy and power would diminish, which, invisibly, became a significant drain on their defensive capabilities.
In the midst of these thoughts, he slowly sat down again, waiting in calmness.
After dispatching the bandits several times, Lv Yingbo abruptly opened his eyes, a glint of coldness flashing through them, and said in a cold voice:
Sheng Zhehan opened his eyes wide, tightened his grip on the bow, and saw signs like floating flower pollen in the air ahead, exuding an eerie pale purple. Just then, these floating, undulating particles suddenly surged toward one direction.
Taking a deep breath, Sheng Zhehan held the strong bow, picked up three Wolf Fang Arrows, and slowly mounted them on the bowstring with a calm motion.
Meanwhile, Lv Yingbo had already darted away, thinly veiled anger evident in his eyes, and in a flash, he was dozens of yards away. He suddenly raised his hand, vigorous Qi whistling sharply, condensing into one and obliterating a stretch of crumbling wall with a loud roar. Immediately, several figures flew out in disarray.
Raising his hand, Sheng Zhehan followed with three spinning Wolf Fang Arrows, like three flood dragons baring their fangs and sinking into the martial artist's arms, shooting skyward as Lv Yingbo closely followed up with continuous strikes, killing those men in succession, sending them crashing down like broken kites.
Stowing his longbow, Sheng Zhehan hurried forward, seeing the dead men who were broad and muscular, with high cheekbones and green eyes—clearly of Hu origin. However, their clothing was utterly mundane, without any distinguishing features, and no tokens identifying them were found on their persons.
In his hesitation, Lv Yingbo beside him bit his lip, hatred evident in his brows, and said through clenched teeth:
"Yes, no doubt about it."
"This martial arts style—it's them...the White Tiger Hall, it has to be them..."
"They've already come." Chapters fırst released on novel[f]ire.net
Sheng Zhehan's expression grew slightly serious as he carefully examined the scenes, concealing his doubts underneath, and said:
"But if they are indeed from the Great Wilderness Stronghold, no, part of the White Tiger Hall, one would think masters would come in person. Why send relatively weak individuals ahead? Or do they not value this sword, thinking that sending just a few people would suffice to seize it?"