Chapter 217: The Fear of Death |
Swoosh! A feathered arrow pierced through the misty veil of rain, crossing a distance of a hundred meters before burying itself into a soldier's throat.
The sharp iron arrowhead skewered the soldier's neck clean through. Bai Mu did not hold back. Showing mercy to the enemy was merely a cruelty to oneself, and he already knew exactly what these men had done elsewhere. Their past atrocities meant they deserved no leniency. The men relegated to standing guard at the cave entrance in this torrential downpour were nothing but bottom-tier grunts. The ones with actual authority and command power were undoubtedly resting deep inside the cave, warming themselves by a fire. Those commanders were his true targets. If he wanted to gather intelligence, he needed to interrogate those who knew the most. There was no point wasting time on mere foot soldiers.
Following closely behind the feathered arrow was Xiao Wei's Magic Missile. It flew slightly slower than the arrow, but only by a fraction. This was the first time Xiao Wei had killed someone on Bai Mu's orders, yet her face showed none of the sorrowful pity she had displayed upon seeing the corpses in the village.
Although kind-hearted by nature, she clearly understood the difference between the innocent and the wicked.
The homing Magic Missiles continuously struck the surrounding soldiers. The initial hits dealt minimal damage, but from the third strike onward, the glowing projectiles tore through the soldiers' clothing, blooming into gruesome flowers of blood.
A coordinated volley from Bai Mu and Xiao Wei easily dispatched the sentries before the men could even figure out where the attack was coming from. The heavy downpour severely restricted their field of vision, blinding them to anything beyond their immediate surroundings.
After the first batch of soldiers dropped dead, reinforcements rushed out of the cave to investigate. This time, they were far more vigilant, donning their armor and raising their shields high.
Bai Mu experimentally loosed a few arrows, but they merely thudded into the thick wood and metal of the shields without dealing any real damage. Xiao Wei's Magic Missiles were similarly deflected.
Realizing that ranged attacks were proving ineffective, Bai Mu led his team forward to close the distance.
Witnessing this horrifying display, sheer panic washed over the faces of the soldiers.
They hurriedly drew their swords, but the strength of ordinary men was nothing compared to a monster like the Witch. Tearing through these grunts was as easy as slicing through warm butter. She effortlessly batted away their blades, her lethal claws carving deep, bloody gashes across their throats and chests. Even their sturdy shields were violently shredded under her onslaught.
The only weapons in their arsenal with a chance of working were their flintlock muskets. The soldiers knew this well, frantically tearing away the waterproof cloths covering their guns to prepare a volley.
If a concentrated volley of musket fire actually managed to hit the Witch in the head, it might have been enough to put her down. But Bai Mu had no intention of letting that happen. At his signal, Adai and Nuosu led the archers in a devastating volley. Simultaneously, Bai Mu deployed the Hand of Walrider to sabotage the musketeers. Just as they were about to pull their triggers, invisible forces yanked at their limbs, throwing them off balance and sending their guns clattering to the muddy ground. Unhindered, the Witch tore through the clustered infantry like a scythe through wheat. Bai Mu slung his bow over his shoulder and drew his revolver. In less than three minutes, the entrance to the cave was completely cleared. As for the enemies still hiding deeper inside, Bai Mu tossed a Guard Mushroom into the tunnel before passing his revolver to the ethereal Hand of Walrider.
He casually stood outside the cave, treating the siege like a shooting gallery. The Guard Mushroom provided him with a crystal-clear, three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the interior, while the invisible Hand of Walrider allowed him to aim and fire flawlessly from safely behind cover.
To these men, whose technological understanding was still rooted in a feudal era, this method of attack was nothing short of demonic sorcery. They had never laid eyes on a modern handgun, nor could they comprehend what unseen force was systematically slaughtering them.
Through the vision granted by the Guard Mushroom, Bai Mu observed a large cluster of men huddled together inside. They were backed up against a campfire, desperately raising their shields and wearing visored helmets. He could see their knuckles turning a pale, bruised purple from their death grips on their weapons, while thick beads of sweat dripped from any exposed skin.
Every single one of them was cowering within the narrow confines of the cave, pressing together to form a trembling wall of flesh.
They screamed into the darkness outside, furiously hammering the pommels of their swords against their breastplates to create a rhythmic, war-drum-like clamor. On a standard battlefield, this tactic might have bolstered their courage. But in the face of this incomprehensible slaughter, it sounded more like the frantic shrieks of cornered prey.
No matter how loudly they roared, their comrades continued to drop dead one by one.
The only response from the darkness was the blinding bang-bang-bang of muzzle flashes as the Hand of Walrider repeatedly pulled the trigger. The terrified soldiers could not comprehend what they were facing; all they knew was that with every flash of fire and every deafening crack, a bloody hole would abruptly materialize right between another comrade's eyebrows.
Blood would pour from the fresh wound, and the man who had been viciously beating his shield just a second prior would collapse sideways with wide, unseeing eyes. After every six rounds, Bai Mu withdrew the revolver to reload the cylinder. There were still around forty men left alive inside. During the brief pauses when he reloaded, the desperate screams of the survivors echoed even louder off the cavern walls.
The sheer horror of the inexplicable massacre quickly took its toll. Their minds snapped. Soon, a soldier broke down completely, dropping his weapons and sprinting blindly toward the exit. Since the man had surrendered his will to fight, Bai Mu spared his life, ordering the girls to tackle him and bind his limbs tightly with rope. The deserter tripped and face-planted hard into the mud, ending up soaked to the bone and looking as pathetic as a drowned rat. He was a sobbing, gibbering mess, with tears and snot flowing uncontrollably down his dirt-streaked face.
Just days ago, when this very man had pillaged a village, butchered its inhabitants, and brutally stripped innocent girls, he likely never imagined he would face a reckoning like this. A dark yellow stain spread across the front of his trousers. The sheer terror had broken his psyche, reducing him to the state of an infantile, helpless child. Confronted with the inescapable fear of death, every shred of his rationality had evaporated.
Some soldiers, however, chose a suicidal final stand. Roaring at the top of their lungs, they charged madly toward the cave entrance with their swords and shields raised high. For these diehards, Bai Mu showed absolutely zero mercy. The Witch, lurking in ambush, did not even need to lift a finger; a single synchronized volley from the girls turned the charging men into human pincushions. Their lifeless bodies tumbled loosely down the muddy slope and plunged into the murky swamp below.
Within mere minutes, at the cost of barely two dozen revolver rounds, Bai Mu had utterly shattered the remaining troops' combat effectiveness and morale.
He evaluated their rank based on the quality of their clothing and how clean they were. He intentionally spared those who were relatively free of mud and possessed well-groomed hair and beards.
In the end, a total of eight high-value captives were securely bound, while all the remaining weapons and equipment scattered inside the cavern were swiftly confiscated.