324 Do You Really Need to Be Like This?

The sound of hooves trampling on the ground was like thunder rolling. With the help of special horseshoes, the steeds ran fast. In the twinkling, the ‘thunder’ came from afar, almost entering the range of the flames. It was too late.

Donald's face slacked. The Caucasian Cavalry’s frontal array was charging forward. Even the fierce heavy armors of Asgard needed to weigh the consequences, let alone such a motley caravan. He gritted his teeth and rushed forward against the thunder. He struck down his sword to block the enemy sabers. The outcome could be seen in seconds.

But at that instant, the steed under the Caucasian bandit was startled. It stood up, hissing uneasily. Then with weak legs, the steed foamed at the mouth. Its expression twitched with extreme fear. The bandit fell down to the ground with the steed. He broke his legs on the spot and was unable to climb up. Looking at the Donald with the sword, his eyes were filled with despair.

Donald hesitated. Rather than seizing the opportunity to cut off his head, he quickly retreated back to the defensive camp.

That was weird! That was too weird!

His entire body was tense. He restrained the mysterious outbreak of unrest and fear. He turned back but saw his companions’ pale faces. Suddenly, the horses tied in the camp hissed painfully and collapsed to the ground, twitching. They struggled to escape as if they perceived something horrible was approaching. They even trampled each other...

The Caucasian bandits were already in chaos. They were in an even worse situation than the camp.

In the darkness, only a mess of roars was heard. Then the horses caught in chaos were forcibly injected with sedatives. Deprived of their mind and ability to think, they temporarily became puppets that could only react mechanically. But this was not over yet.

"Who is it?!" someone screamed in the darkness but was quickly cut off.

Suddenly, there was a burst of unrest that was immediately set to the silence. The voices of the bandits vanished as if they were engulfed by endless darkness.

A black figure slowly approached in the darkness. One step, then another step… As if he was stepping on everyone's heart, every inch he approached magnified the pain and panic in their minds.

Finally, the ethereal figure walked toward the camp, shrouded in heavy black mist. The black mist seemed to carry some sort of nightmarish beast. It constantly revealed hideous scales and claws. Sometimes it was like a beast, sometimes a tsunami, and sometimes the faces of the dead surfaced, spouting persuasive words. Those who saw froze and trembled as if they were cursed.

At the very front, Donald's blade suddenly erupted with a fiery glow that aroused him from the vertigo. He gritted his teeth, raised his sword, and aimed at the man. "Halt!"

The figure instantly stopped in the mist and his eyes swept over. That pair of eyes were green like wolves’ eyes and contained some sort of unspeakable greed. His gaze swept past the people’s face like a blade grazing over them.

Donald heard the trembling sounds of the people beside him. Those who had never experienced true fear before hoisted their crossbows and aimed at the gradually approaching figure. Their fingers on the trigger twitched uncontrollably.

"Hold on!" Donald kept down his voice. "Do not shoot the arrows, do not shoot!"

The Caucasian bandits had already shown them what the outcome was if they shot the arrows. In just a few seconds, they would be completely destroyed. No one knew if they were still alive or not. No, death was better in front of that kind of guy.

He looked at the dark figure. He was drenched with cold sweat and he shuddered uncontrollably.

"My…my friend!" He could barely suppress his fear. "We’re all trying to survive. How about we help each other."

"Give me." The figure spoke with a husky voice. His gaze seemed to penetrate Donald’s body and into the camp.

The merchants shuddered and paled. In the end, they gritted their teeth and nodded. "Give it to him!"

Soon, men carried a dozen coffin-like iron boxes and placed them outside the camp. "Everything is here."

Donald looked at the figure with vigilance and horror. "Friend, we just ask to live—" Before he finished his words, the figure pounced on the box and ripped the iron box off like tearing a piece of paper. The power armor that was hidden in it rolled out and stopped at his feet.

The latest model of power armor was the Chainsaw Fraternity’s prestigious product. Each one could be exchanged for a fist-sized piece of gold. But the dark figure froze and immediately upended the iron box with rage!

"Who the h*ll wants this?!" the figure roared and glared at Donald.

In the silence, the members of the caravan blanched. The dark figure bent over, seeming to be sniffing something. Suddenly, he cried desperately, "It’s overcooked! It’s burnt! Hurry up or nothing will be left. I helped you to settle such a big trouble. Now I just want to eat something. How can you fool me like this?" He looked at the stew on the fire with grief and indignation. It had already been overcooked. He pounded his chest. "Tell me, do you really have to be like this? Really? Really?"

-

"Would you like some meat, sir?"

"Would you like some water, sir?"

"Would you like a chicken leg?"

"Sir, I made some soup for you. It can nourish your body."

"Sir... Sir... Sir..."

Ten minutes later, they sat next to the fire. The caravan's chief and Donald sat carefully by the figure’s side and kept offering food to him. They behaved like waiters in a pub.

The figure, stuffing his face, ignored them. He kept eating anything that was offered to him. His stomach seemed to be bottomless. Finally, he gnawed on Donald's last brisket and sighed with dismay. "Ah, I’m finally full."

Donald's face twitched. Was there an incinerator in this guy’s belly?

"Well, sir..." He hesitated, pointing to the dark mist around him, and forced out a smile.

The figure froze for a moment and hit his head. "Ah, I was too hungry just now. Sorry, I forget that extremes bounce back. I’ve been forcibly suppressed for such a long time. As a result, the power grew too much, almost beyond my control..."

He took a deep breath and flicked his fingers. After a desolate string sound, the dark mist around him as well as the terrible power that made the horses scared gradually dissipated, exposing a young face and big dirty turban.

"Do you have a bed?" The young man got up and looked around.

The caravan leader hurriedly pointed to his tent and gave it to him.

"Thanks." The young man nodded with satisfaction. He pulled some cash from his pocket and stuffed it into the leader’s hand. The merchant froze. He tried to refuse it but the young man waved his hand.

"See this as pay for the next few days of food and travel."

Wait! The next few days? The merchant froze and soon became depressed. Was this sir going to stay for a few more days?

The young man crept into the tent without any suspicion and fell asleep quickly, snoring. The people exchanged blank glances with each other. Finally, Donald, with grimace, was pushed out. He carefully approached the tent to say something but felt coolness against his throat. A line of blood appeared.

Donald touched his neck blankly and felt a small wound there. With a scream, he collapsed to the ground, trembling. He finally realized that the tent was surrounded by faint smoke. A figure stood in the smoke like a ghost, overlooking him coldly.

Donald dared not say anything. He looked at it in awe and crept away. "It’s a blessing, not a curse." He touched the wound on his neck and said to the caravan's leader, "You'd better be respectful to that gentleman. He's not interested in what you want to do. You’d better treat him well. Otherwise...I don’t know if you can get to the place safely."

The caravan leader shivered and nodded.

The night deepened.

-

It was not until after daybreak that the caravan had the courage to look out of the camp. They saw the chaos, the horses that ran into each other and fractured their bones after being frightened, and the bandits that had fainted and lay on the ground in a mess. They quickly broke the bandits’ legs and threw them into a carriage.

Any one of these guys was wanted with great reward. The city-states along the way had probably all prepared gallows to hang them. As long as these guys were identified, they could get a windfall. As for this group of bandits, they would get a beautiful rope necklace.

Ye Qingxuan just said that they could do away with those guys in any way they liked. Then he gathered all the swords and other weapons and put them in his backpack. Now he looked like an Indian wanderer who sold swords.

"This is fun," Ye Qingxuan said to Donald. "Don't you think that collecting about one-hundred enemy swords is really cool?"

"Well, as long as you’re happy." Donald could only boil it down to the strange hobby of a mysterious musician and kept his mouth shut.

From then on, Ye Qingxuan lived a cozy life in the caravan. After breakfast, he just laid in the carriage and slept. After dinner, he laid in the tent to read some books. Sometimes he would hunt some wild animals for a meal. This kind of life was sweet as honey when compared to having no food to eat and no place to sleep. Well, other than the fact that he often had to see the captain who was disgruntled for having to share a tent and carriage with his deputy hand. But Ye Qingxuan could definitely ignore this since he was such a generous man.

"Boss, do you have more food?" Ye Qingxuan poked his head from the window and asked with a smile. "Can I have more? I’m a little hungry."

The caravan leader looked behind, frowning. Donald was at a loss. Finally, he ran into the distance to hunt some rabbits. Ever since Ye Qingxuan joined them, the guards’ duties only involved catching rabbits to eat.

Soon, Ye Qingxuan's lunch was brought to the carriage.

Ye Qingxuan lay there. He hummed and read a book while eating roast rabbit. Watching those guys outside the wagon eating dry food, he felt a great satisfaction from the bottom of his heart. The life was so simple and fulfilling. There was nothing to complain about!

But in the afternoon, the convoy stopped for some reason. Some noise came faintly from the distant.

Ye Qingxuan frowned and poked his head out to ask, "Why is it so noisy outside? What’s the matter?"

A man ran to the front, quickly ran back while panting. "A madman stopped in front of us. He’s asking us to take him to Auschwitz."

"Oh?" The young man frowned and a strange premonition appeared in his mind. When his perceiving thread extended over there, he could not help but want to whistle.

Then he heard a familiar voice shout seriously, "Yes! I am Ye Qingxuan!"