chapter 59 : barbarian priest
A large number of thatched houses appeared in an open space. Several barbarian guards stood outside the fence and observed vigilantly.
It was obvious that Zhang Ye and others had found the tribal residence of the barbarians.
approached the Barbarians' gathering place, anticipation for a swift, surprise attack thrummed within us.
However, the sight before him quickly shattered the expectations, like a delicate glass ornament crushed beneath the weight of an iron hammer.
A vast horde of Barbarians congregated at the wooden gates in front of them a small team of bone-wielding warriors peppered with iron swords, like glinting teeth amidst a monstrous maw.
Rising from the churning mass, two figures stood out: one, a hulking Barbarian with a face etched in ferocity, and the other, an aged man adorned with feathers, reminiscent of a village priest.
The feathered elder's words slithered from his mouth, a serpentine welcome laced with sinister intent. "Human, welcome to our home," he crooned, "for our ancestors yearn for the taste of human flesh. Your presence here has sealed your fate; escape is but a fleeting dream."
Revulsion contorted Long Su's features as the old man's proclamation hung heavy in the air. "End that wretched old man's life," Long Su commanded, his voice tinged with disgust.
With the weight of duty and resolve, Zhang Han unsheathed his sword and stepped forward.
"Oh, oh, oh, oh..."
The Barbarian forces bore down upon Long Su and Zhang Han; the tension in the air was palpable—an unseen force that crackled like lightning before a storm.
A cacophony of pounding feet and bellowing war cries rose from the Barbarian horde, their muscular forms casting long, ominous shadows upon the ground as they surged forward.
The Barbarian priest , his face etched with self-assured smirks, watched the unfolding scene with a predatory gleam in his eyes.
In their minds, the meager numbers at Long Su's command rendered the outcome of the battle a foregone conclusion—a single, crushing blow that would see their enemies decimated.
Long Su and Zhang Han, however, stood their ground, statuesque, against the surging tide of Barbarian fury.
Their stoicism belied the frantic thoughts that raced through the minds of the onlookers, who perceived their stillness as a paralysis of fear, an unspoken admission of defeat.
The Barbarian priest anticipation grew, his thoughts dancing with visions of the spoils of victory.
His mouth watered at the thought of the human flesh that awaited—the feast that would mark their triumph over the intruders.
A sinister smile spread across his weathered face, his confidence in their impending victory an almost tangible force.
As the barbarians drew within a hundred feet of Long Su and Zhang Han's hundred skeletal soldiers, the very air seemed to hold its breath.
It was then that Zhang Han's voice, calm yet commanding, pierced the cacophony of the battlefield, his order to fire unleashing a new wave of devastation upon the oncoming forces.
The forest at their backs came alive, a hidden army of skeletal archers materializing amidst the shadowy boughs.
Thousands strong, their bone-crafted bows unleashed a hailstorm of arrows upon the unsuspecting barbarians.
The elegant arcs of bone and sinew rained down upon the enemy, each shaft a piercing bolt of death that threatened to halt the Barbarian advance in its tracks.
As the bone-tipped arrows rained down from the sky, the Barbarian forces found themselves ensnared in a torrent of death and destruction.
Each shaft found its mark, piercing flesh and mail with indiscriminate precision, as if guided by an unseen hand.
The air was filled with the anguished cries of the wounded and the dull thuds of bodies falling to the ground, like autumn leaves succumbing to the inevitable embrace of winter's chill.
The once-unwavering Barbarian charge faltered under the relentless onslaught, their formidable numbers dwindling with each passing moment.
The stench of blood and fear permeated the battlefield, a visceral testament to the devastating effectiveness of Zhang Han's archers.
As the dust settled, the remnants of the Barbarian vanguard lay strewn across the bloodied earth, their lifeblood seeping into the thirsty ground beneath them.
The surviving Barbarians, their initial fervor replaced by shock and disbelief, bore witness to the horrific scene, their collective breath held captive in the palpable silence.
In the midst of the carnage, Long Su and Zhang Han stood unharmed, their stoic forms a stark contrast to the chaos that had unfolded.
As the realization of their devastating loss settled upon the remaining Barbarian forces, their shock gave way to a burgeoning rage.
The air trembled with the rising fury of their cries, and the earth itself shuddered in anticipation of the retaliatory storm to come.
The feathered Barbarian elder, his face contorted with wrath, stood as a beacon of indignation amidst the sea of enraged warriors.
His eyes, burning with the fire of vengeance, locked upon Long Su and Zhang Han, a silent vow of retribution passing between them.
The once-confident smirk had been replaced by a feral grimace, the promise of feasting on human flesh now a distant memory, lost amidst the shattered remains of his forces.
As the reality of their catastrophic defeat washed over the Barbarians, their anger crystallized into a singular, unyielding purpose—a desire to avenge their fallen brethren and vanquish the intruders who had dared to lay waste to their mightiest warriors.
"Attack, kill them all, and take revenge for our brothers."
Said the hulking barbarian with a face etched in ferocity who was standing to the old barbarian with feathers on his heads.
"roar"
Upon the hulking Barbarian's rumbling command, a surge of raw, primal energy rippled through the amassed warriors.
With a unified, thunderous roar that shook the very earth beneath their feet, the Barbarian army galvanized into a frenzied charge, their eyes ablaze with the fires of vengeance for their fallen brethren.
The ground trembled as the stampede of battle-hardened warriors began, their muscles rippling with exertion.
descended upon Long Su's small but resilient contingent of skeletal soldiers.
The air crackled with tension, and the cacophony of bellowing war cries, each syllable an invocation of the fury and desperation that fueled the Barbarian assault,.
Like a ravenous beast, the onslaught devoured the distance between the armies.
The Barbarians' single-minded intent to overwhelm and crush Long Su's forces was evident in their fearsome countenance.
With reckless abandon, they threw themselves into the fray, their momentum an unstoppable force of nature.
The archers, hidden within the shadowy embrace of the surrounding forest, unleashed a hail of bone-tipped arrows upon the advancing horde.
Each shaft, a lethal whisper of death, found purchase within the ranks of the barbarians.
Yet, undeterred by the lethal onslaught, they pressed onward, their fervor an impenetrable armor against the storm of arrows that rained from the heavens.
As the first wave of Barbarians crashed against the skeletal soldiers like a raging torrent, the clash of steel against bone and sinew resonated across the battlefield, a violent symphony that echoed the desperate struggle for survival.
The once serene clearing was now a chaotic melee, a vortex of primal fury as the combatants clashed with savage abandon.
Long Su and Zhang Han, steadfast and resolute amidst the storm, watched as their skeletal warriors met the barbarian onslaught with unflinching determination.
The battle devolved into a gruesome dance of death, each combatant locked in a savage embrace, their ferocity a reflection of the grim stakes at hand.
The air grew thick with the acrid scent of sweat, blood, and fear, an oppressive miasma that clung to the combatants like a shroud.
As the Barbarian forces began to falter beneath the relentless assault of Long Su's skeletal army, their dreams of vengeance crumbled like brittle bones beneath the crushing heel of defeat.