DLERB -Chapter 112 I’m Your Father! Touman, Your Medicine for Wounds Has Arrived!

The night grew deeper.

Inside the Xiongnu royal court, snores rumbled like thunder.

The bonfires that had burned all night were reduced to faint glowing embers.

The patrol guards had long since fallen asleep against wooden posts.

Only a few starving prairie dogs still rummaged through piles of garbage searching for bones.

Outside the city—

Within the shadows of the dunes—

Eight hundred warhorses stood with thick cloth wrapped around their hooves.

Eight hundred Qin soldiers held wooden gags in their mouths to prevent any sound.

They resembled stone statues grown from the earth itself, motionless and silent.

Ying Ziye stood at the very front.

His tiny body was nothing more than a vague silhouette in the darkness.

He said nothing.

He merely raised a hand slowly and made a gesture toward the rear.

Qinglong immediately understood.

Several Jinyiwei silently carried over dozens of crude pottery jars made from black clay.

The jars were not large—one person could hold each of them easily.

The mouths were sealed tightly with wooden stoppers and wax, leaving only a short fuse exposed.

Wang Li’s eyes lit up.

He grinned soundlessly.

In the darkness, that smile looked like a beast baring its fangs.

Personally leading the way, he stepped forward and pulled out a fire starter from his robes.

Fizz.

Fizz-fizz.

The fuses ignited.

The dim sparks appeared especially glaring in the night.

They were the only sounds before destruction began.

Ying Ziye’s raised hand suddenly slashed downward.

“Throw!”

Wang Li forced the word out from deep in his throat.

The voice was extremely low, yet filled with power.

Dozens of sturdy soldiers holding the pottery jars tensed with all their strength.

Muscles bulged along their arms.

Like human catapults, they hurled the jars with all their might.

Whoosh—

Dozens of black dots trailing sparks streaked across the night sky.

Like crows swooping down upon rotting flesh.

They flew over the crude earthen walls.

Accurately landing in the center of the camp, where the tents were densest and most luxurious.

That place—

Was the comfort nest of the Xiongnu nobles.

And the location of Touman Chanyu’s royal tent.

The pottery jars hit the ground.

Rolled a few times.

The fuses burned to their ends.

For one instant—

Silence.

As though time itself had frozen.

Then—

BOOM!!!

The first pottery jar exploded.

A pillar of fire shot into the sky, illuminating the night as bright as day.

Immediately after—

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! KRA-BOOOOM!!

A chain of explosions erupted.

The earth shook violently.

The deafening blasts sounded as though the heavens themselves were collapsing.

Countless red-hot shards of pottery mixed with black powder blasted outward in every direction.

One tent closest to the explosion was hurled entirely into the air—

Then ripped apart midair into countless burning fragments.

Several Xiongnu nobles inside, still trapped in drunken dreams, were turned into charred corpses together with the tent.

Fire.

Fire was everywhere.

The tents were burning.

The fodder was burning.

The piled-up hides and furs of cattle and sheep were also burning.

The heart of the entire royal court instantly transformed into a sea of flames.

“AHHH!”

“What’s happening?!”

“Enemy attack?!”

Countless Xiongnu awoke from their sleep and rushed out of their tents half-dressed.

What they saw was hell itself.

The explosions were still continuing.

Companions beside them were blasted apart by invisible forces.

Terrified warhorses snapped their reins and charged madly through the camp, trampling countless people to death.

One surviving Xiongnu noble, his face covered in blood, fell to his knees.

Staring at the fire and thunder descending from the heavens—

His mind went completely blank.

This was not human power.

This was divine punishment!

“The gods are enraged!”

Using every ounce of strength in his body, he screamed miserably.

Then, like a madman, he kowtowed desperately toward the sky.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“The Wolf God is punishing us!”

“We have angered the Wolf God!”

More and more Xiongnu completely broke down.

Throwing away their weapons, they knelt upon the ground.

Amid the towering flames and endless explosions, they frantically kowtowed and begged mercy from gods that did not even exist.

Upon the dunes—

Ying Ziye watched everything coldly.

Ying Ziye drew the Qin sword that looked utterly mismatched with his small stature.

Then pointed it forward.

Wang Li had been waiting for that command.

He pulled out his own sword, its tip aimed directly at the living hell ahead.

At last, he could roar at the top of his lungs.

His voice drowned out even the thunder of the explosions.

“KILL!!”

The eight hundred Qin soldiers spat out the wooden gags from their mouths.

Like a black tidal wave, they surged down from the dunes.

The silent Grim Reapers had finally bared their fangs.

The sound of hooves merged into true thunder as they smashed through the gates of Dragon City.

This was not a battle.

This was a one-sided slaughter.

The Qin cavalry cut through their enemies like red-hot blades slicing into butter.

The people facing them were not resisting warriors.

They were lambs kneeling on the ground, crying and begging nonexistent gods for forgiveness.

Slash!

One Qin cavalryman galloped past, casually slicing open the throat of a Xiongnu centurion with his sword.

Blood sprayed outward.

Even in death, the Xiongnu man remained in a kowtowing posture.

Fusu’s eyes were blood-red.

The firelight reflected within his pupils like two ghostly flames.

He said nothing.

He simply swung the sword in his hand mechanically.

A Xiongnu noble dressed in luxurious silk was clutching a chest of gold and silver, desperately trying to escape the chaos.

Fusu rode past him.

With a backhand slash—

Clean.

Efficient.

The head wearing golden earrings flew into the sky.

The headless corpse still staggered forward two more steps while clutching the chest before crashing heavily to the ground.

Fusu did not spare him a single glance.

His target was the next living thing.

The smell of blood he once despised now gave him an unprecedented sense of calm.

BOOOOM!!

An even more violent explosion erupted.

The golden royal tent of Touman Chanyu collapsed.

A massive fireball exploded from within.

A figure was blasted out by the shockwave and slammed heavily onto the ground.

It was Touman.

Beside him rolled a half-naked woman in equally miserable condition.

“The King!”

“Great Chanyu!”

The surrounding guards rushed toward him like madmen.

Touman climbed to his feet, half his hair burned away, his face blackened with soot and ash.

His ears rang violently; he could hear nothing at all.

All he could see—

Was his royal court transformed into a sea of flames.

His tribesmen being slaughtered like livestock.

“AAAAAHHHH!!”

He roared like a wounded beast and grabbed the golden blade lying nearby.

Then he looked up.

Right in front of him, a black-armored general charged through the flames atop his horse.

It was Wang Li.

Covered head to toe in blood, scraps of flesh hanging from his armor, Wang Li looked like a demon god crawling out of hell itself.

From atop his horse, he pointed the still-dripping Qin sword at Touman Chanyu.

Then grinned, revealing a mouthful of white teeth.

“I am your grandfather, Wang Li!”

“Don’t run, grandson!”

Touman’s pupils shrank violently.

What he saw was not Wang Li.

What he saw—

Was the Qin army.

Those black suits of armor that filled him with fear from the depths of his soul.

That demonic army which had emerged from the blizzard and annihilated his winter camp.

That devilish voice shouting through the horn—

“I am your father!”

The “Qin rats” he had mocked yesterday—

Today had burned down his royal court.

All his courage.

All his savagery.

At this moment—

Were completely shattered.

Only one thought remained in his mind.

Run.

Touman shoved the woman beside him aside.

Turning around, he spotted an unattended warhorse.

Scrambling and stumbling, he rushed over and leapt onto its back.

He did not even have time to grab a whip.

Instead, he viciously beat the horse’s rear with the scabbard of his blade.

“Move! MOVE!”

Like a stray dog fleeing for its life, he charged desperately toward the deepest darkness outside the camp.

“Pursue him!”

Several Qin centurions were about to spur their horses after him—

“Don’t.”

A childish voice stopped them.

Ying Ziye rode over slowly atop his fiery-red divine steed.

Qinglong had already untied him, and he stretched his numb backside a little.

From the saddle, he removed the crude horn made from ox horn and iron sheets.

Facing the direction Touman had fled, he cleared his throat.

Then—

In clumsy yet piercing Xiongnu language, he shouted loudly.

Amplified through the horn, his voice spread across the entire burning battlefield.

“Old Touman, doesn’t your arm hurt anymore?”

“Don’t run! This young master brought medicine for your wounds!”