Madam, don't do this!

Chapter 240 The Name of the Enemy (3)

Among the Wugulun tribe, Wulibu was undoubtedly the most volatile and ruthless, the kind who would draw his sword and kill at the slightest provocation. Such a person delights in conflict and bloodshed. While some members of the Wugulun tribe may not have participated in the invasion of Ningguo, Wulibu certainly committed countless atrocities in Pingyang Prefecture.

This guy even tried to kill himself with a knife earlier.

Song Yan still felt a little regretful that he couldn't kill him with his own hands, so he was very happy to see that Wulibu was still alive. He smiled and revealed two rows of white teeth.

When he saw the smile on Song Yan's face, Wulibu shuddered and a surge of anger rushed to his head.

His bearded face twisted madly, his jaw clenched, and a hissing sound came from his throat. Was he mocking himself?
They mocked the Wugulun tribe because of his cunning, for the entire tribe was doomed to perish.

Oribu was indeed an extremely heavy drinker, so while others were drinking, he ran to the caravan and stole quite a lot of wine. Fearing being discovered, he didn't even put it in the tent, but instead found an inconspicuous place to bury all the wine jars. Because the frozen soil was difficult to dig, he wasted a lot of time.

But who could have imagined that the moment he turned around, he would only see flames soaring into the sky above the tribe? When he rushed over, he would only see those black-armored warriors, steel blades in hand, slaughtering the people of the Wugulun tribe. His body trembled violently, and a hoarse voice squeezed out from between his teeth: "Where is my father..."

Song Yan patted his head, realizing that it was too cruel to prevent father and son from being reunited. So, he kindly turned around and went into the tent, then dragged out a corpse that looked like a dead dog and casually threw it in front of Wulibu.

In an instant, Olibu's pupils contracted sharply, especially when he saw his father's wide, pained, and unwilling eyes, and the numerous holes pierced in his chest by the dagger. Olibu's eyes turned red, and he clenched his hands tightly, his nails digging into his flesh, blood dripping down his palms.

It is said that the relationship between fathers and sons, and brothers of different ethnic groups, is extremely bad. I didn't expect that the relationship between the father and son, Oribu, seems to be quite good.

In that case, as long as we kill Oribu, the family can be reunited, right?
“Song Zhe…”

Finally, Olibu raised his head. Although he had not practiced martial arts, a murderous aura seemed to emanate from his body, and his copper bell-like eyes resembled those of a mad bear: "I will crush your head, I swear!"

Howling, Wolibu lunged at Song Yan.

That massive body raced across the ground like a high-speed tank. In just twenty meters, it reached Song Yan almost instantly, its large, fan-like hand reaching for Song Yan's head.

This person not only lacks martial arts training, but also combat experience. He simply charges around recklessly, without any strategy or method. Perhaps on the battlefield, he could become a charging general with his muscular physique, but in a one-on-one fight against a martial artist like Song Yan, his strength is insufficient.

He gently shifted his feet to the side, and the rough fingers missed their mark. In the next instant, he grabbed Wulibu's wrist, and with a whoosh, he raised his other hand and slashed at Wulibu's elbow.

Click.

A sickening, bone-cracking sound drilled into my ears.

Accompanying this were the extremely agonizing screams that could be heard in the village.

All that could be seen was that the arm instantly twisted into a V-shape, the bone, brutally severed, piercing through the skin and flesh, exposed and dripping with blood. The excruciating pain caused Wolibu's body to convulse, and his head to tilt back forcefully.

Immediately afterwards, Song Yan raised his foot and kicked Wulibu in the knee.

As a fifth-rank martial artist, Song Yan possessed astonishing strength when wielding the Vajra Arhat Technique. With another cracking sound, Wulibu's knee sank backward in a bizarre posture, his entire kneecap completely shattered.

His strong body lost its support and collapsed to the ground with a thud.

In their wide eyes, there was not only fear and despair, but also disbelief.

How can this be?

He was the number one warrior of the Wugulun tribe.

He once beheaded 130 Han Chinese from the Central Plains in Pingyang Prefecture.

How could they lose to this frail boy?
After stretching his wrists, Song Yan, unaware of and unconcerned about what Wulibu was thinking, slowly walked up to Wulibu, grabbed his dirty hair, and dragged him toward the nearest tent.

scoff.

scoff.

The sound of being dragged.

Two long trails of blood were left on the ground. The dragging process inevitably touched the wounds on the legs and arms, and a scream immediately followed.

Feeling the approaching heatwave, Olibu finally understood what Song Yan wanted to do:
"No, you can't do this to me." The shrill scream had already changed its tone: "Let me go, I'm willing to give up everything I have."

Even though they were weak and lowly Han people, in order to survive, Wulibu still yielded. He had seen the pain and despair of those who were burned to death, just like the desperate people in the houses he set on fire in the Central Plains.

He pleaded just like them:

"Please, please, don't kill me! There's money and silver in my tent."

“My sister has married the prince of the Pucha tribe, and I am willing to give her to you.”

He sold almost everything he could, just to have a chance to live. Once upon a time, Ori didn't think he was fearless, but only when death was near did he realize how terrifying that feeling truly was.

Seeing that Song Yan showed no sign of stopping, Wuli became calm: "I... I have a map in my arms, a map of all the Jurchen tribes."

Song Yan's eyes suddenly lit up; finally, there was something that could pique his interest.

The map Qu Ming has is incomplete, containing only the route into the Jurchen territory and records of the surrounding areas. Obtaining a complete map would be an unexpected bonus.

Although the Jurchen tribes also migrated, their migrations were not as frequent as those of the Xiongnu, and their migrations still had some value.

Song Yan then squatted down and reached into Wulibu's arms, quickly finding a map made of animal hide. He nodded with satisfaction, then gave it a forceful flick. With a whoosh, Wulibu's burly body was sent flying, crashing onto the tent with a thud.

Song Yan looked down, realizing she had forgotten to let go and had accidentally pulled off his scalp. She was truly sorry.

Oribu's body began to struggle and howl desperately in the raging fire, but the flames on his body burned more and more fiercely.

A pair of eyes were fixed on Song Yan's direction. Even through the flickering flames, Song Yan could clearly feel the madness and resentment in those eyes.

“Song Zhe…”

That roar seemed to have used up all of Oribu's strength, and the sound resounded through the sky.

“By the name of our ancestor Hanpu, I… Oribu, offer up all the unjustly deceased souls of the Wugulun tribe and cast down the most terrible curse: I curse you to a terrible death…”

As the voice faded, Oribu fell completely silent.

Song Yan felt somewhat bored. "No, you made such a big fuss, and in the end it's just a matter of 'may they die a horrible death'?"
The cultural level of this foreign race is so low that they can't even think of a few nice words to curse.

He could at least say something like "torn apart by five horses," "pierced by ten thousand arrows," or "extinct and childless"... Of course, what does cursing Song Zhe have to do with me, Song Yan, so he wasn't afraid at all.

The fire continued to rage, and the tents and corpses would likely burn for a long time. Although no one was seen struggling anymore, Song Yan still arranged for some black-armored soldiers to patrol the tribe, ready to finish off any escapees they encountered.

As for Song Yan, he headed towards the stables to check on their biggest find this time.

The thought of those warhorses made Song Yan shudder, and her breathing became rapid.

……

The bright moonlight bathed the earth, making the snow even more dazzling.

Even the black-armored warriors who were slaughtering below couldn't notice that several figures were lying on a hill not too far from the tribe.

These were all young men in their early twenties, dressed in tiger and bear skins—symbols of skilled hunters. Their faces were contorted with suppressed rage, their teeth clenched, as they tried to remain silent and not disturb the hunters below.

Because of food shortages, they went hunting in the snowy mountains and were not with their tribe. Too far away, they had no idea what was happening in the tribe; they could only see the towering flames and blurry figures.

Until Oribuna's shrill, hoarse howl echoed from the horizon, they finally learned the name of their enemy:
Song Zhe!

(End of this chapter)