Ghost Needle Stone Forest

The others caught on, and Commandant Sun asked, "When do we strike?" "What is the rush? He holds a massive host in his grasp and is convinced we will launch a surprise attack on Weicheng, which means he will sit by the stump waiting for the hare—waiting for us to knock on his door." The figure rested a hand on the parapet. "We might as well let him wait a little longer. This season is perfect for sleeping out in the open wilderness." The generals all chuckled. In late autumn on the Panlong Wasteland, the nighttime temperature plunged straight down to three or four degrees below freezing. If a man stood sentry in the wild for a single night, the whipping wind and sand could scour half the skin off his face. If their adversary had marched here directly from the Baling Kingdom, tonight would give him a fine taste of the Panlong Wasteland's ruthless cruelty. Only after four hours had passed did the well-rested Gale Army finally receive the order to prepare for departure. "Commandant Sun, Commandant Liu, take five thousand men and mounts toward Weicheng and raise my banner—make it as ostentatious as possible," the commander finally commanded. "If you meet a formidable enemy, there is no need to prolong the engagement. Just pull back to Puxigou and hold fast." "He firmly believes speed is paramount in war, staking over ten thousand troops in hopes of catching us unprepared. With such reckless advancement, the moment he fails, he won't even have reinforcements or supplies. That is his fatal weakness—the harder you jab at it, the better. By the way, whoever has a spare moment, shoot down those large eagles to eliminate the enemy's scouts and ease our subsequent moves." The eyes of both men lit up. "Understood!" "Captain Xiao, take the Baling military uniforms you've prepared. The original plan stands—we will take Weicheng by stealth." A quarter of an hour later, the gates of Puxigou swung wide open, and the scarlet-armored warriors of the Gale Army surged forth upon furious steeds. Several large banners unfurled in the wind amidst the ranks, bearing only a single, eye-catching scarlet character: Red! *** Upon stepping into the Ghost Needle Stone Forest, the air turned humid all at once. Autumn on the Panlong Wasteland was exceptionally dry; a single spark could scorch a vast swath of earth bare. Yet the Ghost Needle Stone Forest was riddled with caves and hollows, towering bluffs and sunken vales. The precipices blocked out the scorching sun, while the vales collected rainwater. Thus, even though the rivers had long since changed course, the stone forest remained far more moist than the rest of the wasteland. Even in late autumn, more than half of the dense vegetation remained a glossy, vibrant green. At the shaded foot of certain rock faces, ponds and streams had gathered, where drum-tail shrimp and small fish skulked beneath the crevices in the stone. The plants exhaled gentle, moist vapor. As soon as He Lingchuan stepped inside, he spotted ruts pressed deep into the muddy ground. This would not do. "Is the path ahead this muddy all the way through?" The valley they had entered held far too much moisture; it would be entirely too easy for the Baling forces to track their footprints and wheel ruts. To evade a formidable enemy and buy time, General Nan Ke had decisively ordered the entire army to veer into the Ghost Needle Stone Forest. He knew full well that this place had paths branching in every direction—extremely wide in some spots and narrow to a fault in others. Having never been artificially cleared, cramming all their men and mounts onto a single road was simply impractical. Therefore, he divided the entire army into four columns of varying sizes, each leading a portion of the merchants and supply wagons forward. Each of the four detachments took a different path, which would confuse the enemy and minimize their losses to the greatest extent. Fortunately, the Ghost Needle Stone Forest was a passage travelers and merchant caravans were bound to take, so each column was allocated a guide familiar with the terrain. In the column where He Lingchuan was assigned, squad leader Liu Tong's luck was rotten to the core. Sixteen squads had to draw lots for two rear-guard assignments. Everyone else cheered after drawing theirs, but when Liu Tong pulled his out and took a look, his face turned the color of dirt. Needless to say, their nine-man squad had to stay behind to cover the retreat. Door Plank glared in fury and cursed, "Did you take a dump and forget to wash your hands before daring to draw lots?" Liu Tong had no rebuttal. He hurried ahead to negotiate and finally managed to bring back a guide. This guide also wore a mournful grimace, utterly sullen and unwilling even to speak. One could only wonder how disliked he usually was in the caravan to have been thrown into the rear-guard detachment. How was this any different from being sent to die? He Lingchuan clapped him on the shoulder. "Guide us well, and you'll definitely make it out alive." The guide sighed heavily. "I'm begging you gentlemen. I still have an eighty-year-old mother and a two-year-old toddler to feed back home." "Then your household is only four or five people at most," Door Plank said, pointing at Skinny. "His family has over a dozen mouths, all depending on him alone." "Enough, stop fooling around," Liu Tong said with a stern face. "This spot looks good. Let's set up a few traps." If ten of them wanted to slow down the Baling army, they had to pull out every trick in the book. The group had already advanced several dozen paces into a bamboo grove. Bamboo was quite rare on the Panlong Wasteland. Though the air here was lush with moisture, the stalks were far from the thick trunks found in the south, growing slender and long like whips instead. Willow hailed from a hunter's family; laying snares and setting traps was her old trade. During several of his past dream entries, He Lingchuan's missions had revolved around slaying monsters, and he had learned plenty of tricks from her, which now came in handy. Working together, the group swiftly constructed five or six traps. The simplest kind involved hammering sharp spikes into a bamboo stalk, bending it back, and stringing a tripwire near the ground. Once an enemy tripped the wire, the bamboo would whip straight into his face. With sharp spikes embedded in the wood, the sensation would be excruciating. After finishing the traps, the group carefully withdrew several dozen paces and concealed themselves behind rugged boulders. Once the first wave of enemies fell into the traps, they would observe the Baling soldiers' movements before planning the next scare tactic. Indeed, traps could hardly harm more than a few men, but they were potent enough to deter the adversary and significantly slow their advance. Aside from that, disorienting barriers and trickery illusions might work well on commoners, but they held little value against an enemy force similarly bolstered by origin power. As long as an opponent's origin power was not too weak, they could see through such parlor tricks at a single glance. And so, everyone waited with bated breath. An excellent hunter was bound to possess boundless patience. Last night while tracking the bear demon, they had crouched beside the pool for six whole hours. Thus, they stared at the bamboo grove before them and waited for fully half an hour. Skinny could not resist murmuring, "Why haven't they come yet?" "Isn't it better that they haven't?" Liu Tong hushed him. "Shh!" Another hour slipped by. As dusk settled, the wind rose, rustling the bamboo grove and sending countless leaves fluttering down. Yet aside from that, there was nothing. He Lingchuan only saw a fat toad hop brazenly across the path, clearing the tripwire with a single leap. They couldn't even catch a toad. "Another half an hour and it'll be two full hours," Skinny said, swatting a mosquito dead against his face. "A mere fifteen li of wide-open terrain—could the Baling soldiers really not have reached here by now?" "We're not waiting any longer. Let's move forward," Liu Tong decided resolutely. "While we can still make out the wheel ruts." What they did not know was that the Baling army had actually arrived at the Ghost Needle Stone Forest long ago. The massive force bore down upon the border, yet made no move to enter. Torches had already been lit in the rear to illuminate the way, but an order was swiftly passed down from the vanguard: "Extinguish all torches! Not a single one is to remain lit!" The lead general bore a scar across his face; it was none other than the Baling supreme commander who had seized Weicheng—Hua Mucuo. He stared at the iconic stone screens bordering the Ghost Needle Stone Forest for a long while before asking his aides, "Nan Ke's army has gone in—are you certain?" "The raptors in the sky saw it clearly. Nan Ke himself indeed went inside, and the army under his command split into several routes. But the mist and tree shadows in the stone forest are too thick, so the eagles could no longer track them." "Good that they went in." A strange smile spread across Hua Mucuo's face. "Have the four thousand men of the rear flank turn around and guard the northern exit of the Ghost Needle Stone Forest. Remember, no one is allowed to light a fire—not even a single spark. And no one is permitted to take a single step into the Ghost Needle Stone Forest! Every Panlong soldier who comes out is to be slaughtered on sight!" His subordinate took the order and departed. Hua Mucuo looked upon the Ghost Needle Stone Forest shrouded in twilight and murmured slowly, "Nan Ke, oh Nan Ke... I hope you make it out alive, so that I may gouge out your eyes and flay your skin to appease my brother's spirit in heaven!" *** He Lingchuan and the others pressed forward in the direction the main force had gone, not forgetting to erase the wheel ruts left behind by the caravan. Yet all remained deathly silent far behind them; no one was giving chase. The sun had set, and the Ghost Needle Stone Forest was enveloped in complete darkness. The Baling army had nothing to fear; by all rights, they should have lit torches to pursue their quarry. Instead, pitch-black darkness lay behind, accompanied only by the mournful wailing of the wind. Could it be that they hadn't pursued them at all? Or had Liu Tong and his men simply gotten lucky, taking a route that happened to have no pursuers? Door Plank mumbled, "Praying to Lady Mitian before setting off really worked!" Willow shot him a sidelong glance. "You never did that before?" Door Plank let out a dry laugh. "Not that, it's just... sometimes I'm too busy..." A sharp "Hush" from the side cut their conversation short. However, the voice came from He Lingchuan, not Liu Tong. He whispered urgently, "There's movement up ahead!" Another gust of wind swept past, and Willow, Skinny, and the others heard it too. There were human voices ahead. It was faint and distant, but it sounded like—screams of agony? The squad exchanged glances and crept forward in silence. To move noiselessly through the thick forest, the golden rule was slowness, especially since each person was leading a horse that could not be allowed to make loud noises. After advancing several dozen paces, firelight flickered ahead, accompanied by the whinnies of horses and shouts of men. The squad members also noticed fine, gossamer-white threads beginning to appear over the surrounding foliage. Are these... webs? The guide grabbed Liu Tong's arm, waving his hands frantically to signal that they must not go. The soldiers ignored him. As the rear guard, they had to at least ascertain what was happening. Concealing themselves downwind, they parted the dense foliage and peered through. Directly ahead, an incline led up toward a cliff face, where sixteen or seventeen men and seven or eight horses were gathered on the slope. These men were swinging torches frantically, their sabers and swords stabbing only at the ground. They appeared to be surrounded by a black tide—a tide that moved, hissed, and bristled with fur... Under the blazing firelight, He Lingchuan got a clear look at what had enveloped them, and his hair stood on end. Spiders! A dense, surging tide of spiders, each larger than a cat, was frenziedly assaulting the patrol guards. Thousands upon thousands of spider legs scraped across the stone, the collective rustling sounding eerily like waves crashing against the shore. With every passing moment, a dozen spiders were cleaved apart, but their brethren instantly filled the gaps, throwing themselves forward without regard for their lives to bite and tear. Some acted as living ballistas: after brewing within their bellies for a moment, they spun around, aimed their abdomens at the humans, and sprayed out massive clusters of thick, gooey silk. This webbing possessed astonishing stickiness; even bolstered by origin power, blades struggled to slice through it in short order. Several patrol guards were already plastered in webs, with no time to clear them away, only to find themselves wound ever tighter. Other spiders were monstrously huge, nearly the size of jackals. After firing their webs, they hauled on the threads as they crawled forward, trying to drag the men down the slope. They showed no fear of torches, nor did they care about the origin power radiating from the soldiers, throwing themselves into the fray wave after wave.