Starting with a Wei Wu soldier

The dull, rhythmic sound of hooves, like a constantly tolling death knell, approached from afar, each step feeling like a blow to Chen Xing's heart. He huddled behind the cold, slimy horse carcass, desperately suppressing his heavy breathing, even swallowing his saliva with extreme caution, afraid that the slightest sound might disrupt some kind of balance and bring death directly to him.

Through the gaps in the pile of corpses, he stared intently in the direction the sound was coming from. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, the sound of blood surging against his eardrums almost drowning out everything else. He could clearly feel the coldness and trembling of his limbs, the most primal reaction of his body under extreme fear.

Finally, at the edge of a mountain of corpses and a sea of ​​blood, a shadowy figure appeared.

The first thing that caught Chen Xing's eye was the tall, powerful warhorses. These horses were more magnificent than any he had ever seen on television or in zoos, with shoulder heights generally exceeding 1.5 meters, bulging muscles, and coats that appeared dark brown or black in the dim light, glossy and smooth, clearly indicating excellent care. On the backs of the horses were figures dressed in fur coats and simple leather armor.

Are these the so-called "Hu people"?

Chen Xing's knowledge of biology led him to subconsciously observe these "alien beings." Their faces were sharply defined, with high cheekbones, straight noses, and rough, dark skin tanned from years of exposure to wind and sun. Their hair was mostly shaved in various strange styles; some had only a tuft on top braided, while others had shaved sides and left long hair down their backs. Their eyes held a gaze Chen Xing had never seen in civilized society—a mixture of savagery, indifference, cruelty, and a numb indifference to the mountain of corpses and sea of ​​blood before them.

Their horsemanship was extremely skillful, as if they were one with their mounts, swaying gently with the horse's gait, their scimitars or spears dragging casually on the ground, cutting through the dark red soil.

This cavalry squad, numbering about ten men, did not rush into the center of the pile of corpses. Instead, they moved slowly along the perimeter with a hunting-like posture, their eyes like those of hawks, scanning this deathly realm. They seemed to be inspecting, or perhaps searching for something.

"Damn it! We're too late! Judging by this, those bastards from Bingzhou and those 'iron cans' from Youzhou are at it. We didn't get any bargains!" A rough, hoarse voice rang out, speaking in heavily accented Mandarin, but Chen Xing could barely understand it. He saw a Hu man with a hideous scar on his face spit out a mouthful of saliva and use his curved sword to lift a corpse wearing iron armor, seemingly checking the condition of the armor.

"Boss, all the big fish have been caught. All that's left is this junk, there's not much profit in it." Another younger Hu man complained, poking a headless corpse next to him with his spear, his movements flippant and indifferent.

The one referred to as "the leader" was an exceptionally burly man with a terrifying scar running from his forehead to his chin. He rode a remarkably magnificent black horse, and upon hearing this, he coldly snorted, his voice like a broken gong: "What's the rush? Search carefully! See if there are any 'two-legged sheep' still alive. Bring them back; they can be exchanged for a few meals of wine and meat!"

"Two-legged sheep"?

This term, like an icicle, pierced Chen Xing's consciousness instantly. He had seen this term in some historical records or anecdotal accounts; it was a derogatory term used by some ancient nomadic peoples for Han captives or civilians, meaning livestock that could be driven and slaughtered at will!

A chill ran from his tailbone straight to the top of his head. He had clung to a sliver of hope—perhaps these "locals" could communicate, perhaps he could use his knowledge to find a way to survive. But the words "two-legged sheep" shattered that illusion completely. In this world, in this era, a man dressed in Han Chinese civilian clothes and unarmed was no different from a pig or sheep to be slaughtered in the eyes of these barbarian cavalrymen!

Fear, like a tangible vine, coiled around his throat, almost suffocating him. He curled his body up even more tightly, wishing he could melt into the cold pile of corpses.

However, fate seemed determined to toy with him.

Just as he was trying his best to hide, the young soldier's corpse next to him, which had just been making "ho ho" sounds, suddenly twitched as if it had been startled by the Hu people's horses' hooves or had a final burst of energy. One of its arms lashed out unconsciously and hit the horse corpse where Chen Xing was hiding, making a dull thud.

The sound was exceptionally clear on the deathly silent battlefield.

"Huh?" The scarred leader turned his head sharply, his sharp, knife-like gaze instantly locking onto the pile of corpses where Chen Xing was hiding.

Chen Xing's heart almost stopped beating at that moment. He felt as if all the blood in his body had frozen.

"There's movement over there!" the young Hu cavalryman shouted excitedly, as if he had spotted some interesting prey. "Looks like one isn't quite dead yet!"

The scarred leader grinned cruelly, revealing a set of yellowed, black teeth: "Go see! Is it a big fish or a little lamb!"

Before he finished speaking, two Hu cavalrymen spurred their horses and trotted leisurely toward the direction where Chen Xing was hiding. Their faces wore a playful and relaxed expression, like cats catching mice, clearly not believing that a survivor hiding among piles of corpses could pose any threat.

Finished!

Chen Xing's mind went blank; the immense fear rendered him almost incapable of thinking. Run! He had to run!

The instinct for survival overwhelmed everything. Just as the two cavalrymen were about to approach, their hooves almost ringing in his ears, Chen Xing suddenly leaped out from behind the pile of corpses! He didn't even bother to figure out which way to go; driven only by the most primal urge to get away from those cavalrymen, he took off running!

"Hey! There really is a two-legged sheep!" a cavalryman exclaimed in surprise.

"You're quite good at hiding! And you're not slow at all!" Another cavalryman laughed and urged his horse to catch up at a leisurely pace.

Chen Xing had never run so desperately in his life. He stumbled and staggered through the mountains of corpses and seas of blood, his feet treading on slippery flesh, stiff limbs, and scattered weapons; every step felt like walking on the edge of an abyss. He dared not look back, only hearing the approaching hoofbeats behind him and the mocking yet murderous shouts of the Hu cavalry.

His lungs felt like they were being violently strained by bellows, each breath carrying a burning, bloody ache. His legs felt as heavy as lead, his muscles trembling violently from the strain. His modern physical condition, which might be considered healthy in peacetime, proved utterly frail and vulnerable in this life-or-death chase.

"call out--"

A sharp whooshing sound came from behind me!

Chen Xing almost instinctively lunged to the side!

"Thud!" A rough bone arrow flew past his ear and embedded itself deeply in the head of a corpse in front of him, the fletching still trembling violently.

Cold sweat instantly soaked his back. If he had been even half a second slower…

He scrambled forward, his heart pounding in his chest. The sound of hooves behind him grew more rapid, and the laughter of the barbarians grew even more unrestrained.

"That's interesting! Let's see how many arrows you can dodge!" The cavalryman who had fired the arrow seemed to have been aroused and drew his bow again.

Chen Xing could only use the piles of corpses on the ground as temporary cover, constantly changing direction and dodging haphazardly. He bypassed a dead warhorse, jumped over a shallow ditch filled with corpses, and each seemingly lucky dodge exhausted a great deal of his physical and mental strength.

However, two legs can never outrun four. Moreover, he was running on such treacherous terrain, while his opponents were well-trained cavalry.

The sound of hooves grew closer and closer; he could even hear the horses' heavy breathing and smell their strong, gamey odor.

"Grab him! Don't kill him, a live 'two-legged sheep' is worth more!" Scarface ordered from a short distance away, his tone tinged with impatience.

Upon hearing this, the cavalryman with the bow put away his bow and arrows, grinned maliciously, took a lasso from beside his saddle, and began to spin it around his head.

Another cavalryman drew his scimitar and rode his horse to flank Chen Xing, attempting to cut off his path.

Despair, like an icy tide, slowly engulfed Chen Xing's consciousness. His strength was rapidly draining away, and his speed was noticeably slowing. His vision began to darken, and his ears were filled with a cacophony of sounds—his own heartbeat, his own panting, the sound of horses' hooves, the shouts of the Hu people, the cawing of crows…

He rushed out of a relatively dense pile of corpses, and the terrain in front of him suddenly opened up. But then, his steps came to an abrupt halt, and he froze on the spot as if struck by lightning.

There's no road ahead.

A bottomless cliff, like a scar on the earth, abruptly stood before him. Below the cliff, swirling mist obscured the bottom, and only the faint sound of the wind howling upwards from the valley floor could be heard.

A dead end!

Chen Xing slowly turned around, his back to the dizzying abyss. The dozen or so Hu cavalrymen had already spread out in a fan shape, slowly closing in, completely blocking all possible escape routes for him. Their faces wore cruel and gleeful smiles, as if they were looking at a lamb trapped in a desperate situation, waiting to be slaughtered.

The scarred leader, mounted on his horse, looked down at him with a mocking and indifferent gaze, his beast-like eyes filled with disdain: "Running away? Why aren't you running anymore, you lowly two-legged sheep!"

Chen Xing leaned against the edge of the cliff, the icy mountain wind whipping at his sweat- and blood-soaked clothes, bringing a bone-chilling cold. His chest heaved violently, his lungs burned, and he was almost completely exhausted. Faced with death closing in, an extreme anger and resentment, mixed with a deep sense of powerlessness, surged wildly within him.

Time travel? Is this the end of time travel? Having just arrived in this strange world, and not even having figured out the situation, I'm going to be killed like livestock by these so-called "Hu people," or captured and taken back to be "two-legged sheep"?

He is not willing!

The laboratory explosion didn't kill him, and this mountain of corpses and sea of ​​blood didn't engulf him. Was he destined to die at the hands of these... these barbarians who treated human life like dirt?

A Hu cavalryman had already dismounted, holding a rope in his hand, a sinister smile on his face, and was walking towards him step by step.

With nowhere to retreat, exhausted and captured, or... jumping into this bottomless abyss?

Either choice leads to a dead end.

Chen Xing's eyes were bloodshot, his nails digging deep into his palms until they bled. He stared intently at the approaching barbarian, at the repulsive smile on his face, and at the cold, cruel cavalry behind him.

Is this... the end?

Just as the barbarian reached out, about to touch him, just as Chen Xing almost desperately closed his eyes, preparing to leap for a chance at a complete corpse—

A cold, mechanical voice, devoid of any emotion, suddenly resounded in the deepest recesses of his mind:

[Host's vital signs have reached a critical threshold, and mental fluctuations meet the binding requirements...]

[Environmental scan... Confirmed to meet the activation requirements of the 'Overlord of Chaos' template...]

[Imperial Overlord System, Activating...]