Douluo Continent, Huo Yuhao, the villain from a parallel world

The group of over forty people included two Soul Masters and one Soul King, who was also a Level 5 Soul Master. In addition, there were fifteen ordinary guards.

Such a configuration is more than sufficient to escort a caravan through the Mingdou Mountains.

The carriages gradually came to a stop on a relatively open flat area by the roadside, and the drivers jumped off to start a fire and set up camp.

The guards split into two groups: one group went to keep watch around the perimeter, while the other group gathered around the campfire to take out rations and water bags to replenish their strength.

Huo Yuhao also jumped down from the last carriage, his movements light and his landing silent.

He wasn't tired, but a twelve-year-old boy who was too energetic in this desolate wilderness would attract attention, so he followed the others and sat down by a campfire.

He had barely sat down when a strong scent of perfume wafted over from his side.

A woman in her early thirties swayed her hips as she walked to his side and plopped down on him without any hesitation.

The woman was wearing a bright fuchsia dress with a very low neckline. Her face was heavily made up, her lips were painted a vibrant red, and the powder around her eyes couldn't hide the fine lines around her eyes.

She was one of the hitchhikers in the caravan, supposedly on her way to visit relatives in Tiandou City, but along the way she was flirting with several young and strong guards in the caravan.

Anyone with eyes can see she's lying. This person probably only went to Tiandou City to do business.

As for what kind of business it is, everyone knows perfectly well.

At this moment, her eyes, heavily made up with eyeshadow, were staring intently at Huo Yuhao.

The firelight reflected on his handsome, almost unreal face, his long eyelashes casting soft shadows on his cheeks, and his blue eyes appearing like two bottomless, icy pools in the night.

She had noticed the boy traveling alone all along the way, but hadn't found an opportunity to get closer. Now that the opportunity had come, she couldn't hold back any longer.

"Young man, it must be so boring sitting here all by yourself." The woman moved closer to Huo Yuhao, her voice deliberately soft and coquettish, her arm brushing against Huo Yuhao's shoulder almost imperceptibly.

"It gets very cold in the mountains at night. Would you like your sister to keep you company and chat with you to warm you up?"

Huo Yuhao turned his head and glanced at her expressionlessly.

Those blue eyes were devoid of any emotion, as cold as if they were looking at a lifeless stone. "I'm not interested in you. Stay away from me."

The woman's smile froze on her face, and her lips twitched involuntarily.

She had traveled this trade route countless times, and had seen all kinds of men, each of whom had been captivated by her words.

This boy, who looked no more than twelve or thirteen years old, actually looked at her with the eyes of someone looking at trash.

Her face flushed red, and she opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something nasty, but when she met Huo Yuhao's cold eyes, the curses that were on the tip of her tongue were swallowed back.

She was just a hitchhiker, but the young man looked and acted like he was no ordinary person, so she didn't dare to offend him.

In the end, all she could do was glare at Huo Yuhao resentfully.

He stood up, slunk away to another campfire across the way, and sat down without daring to raise his head again.

Huo Yuhao withdrew his gaze and continued to close his eyes to rest.

As night deepened, the campfire crackled, its orange-red light casting flickering shadows on the faces of the people sitting together.

The drivers gnawed on their hard, dry rations, chatting idly, while the guards occasionally glanced up at the dense forest around them.

Everything looked just like any other camping trip in the mountains.

Suddenly, Huo Yuhao opened his eyes wide.

His gaze instantly sharpened like a knife, piercing straight into a certain direction deep within the dense forest.

"Someone is approaching this way." His voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly to everyone's ears on the night breeze.

The caravan leader was taken aback, then sprang up from the ground as if by reflex.

Having led caravans for so many years, he knew better than anyone what it meant when someone suddenly approached in this desolate wilderness.

His right hand almost instinctively reached for the hilt of his sword at his waist, and he shouted in a deep voice, "Everyone, stand up! Guards, take your positions!"

The two Soul Sect guards reacted extremely quickly, almost as soon as their leader finished speaking, they had already flipped up and their Soul Rings lit up beneath their feet.

The fifth-level Soul Master Soul King was a step slower, but he quickly stood up from the campfire, flipped his right hand, and a finely crafted Soul Guidance Short Gun was already in his palm.

Only a few dozen seconds had passed when footsteps echoed from the depths of the dense forest.

The sounds were dense and chaotic, as if countless feet were treading on withered branches and fallen leaves, surging in from all directions at the same time.

Everyone around the campfire stood up. The women shrank back in fear, while the drivers scrambled to pick up sticks and iron bars from the fire that could be used as weapons.

The guards drew their swords and aimed them at the dark forest.

A dark figure rushed out of the forest first, followed by a second, a third...

In the blink of an eye, dozens of dark figures surged out of the dense forest like a flood bursting its banks, surrounding them completely.

Leading the charge was a group of humanoid monsters, their bodies completely black and their clothes tattered.

Chapter 83 Corpse Slaves, Fierce Battle

Although these monsters still have humanoid forms, they are no longer human at all.

Their skin was festering and black, emitting a nauseating stench. Their empty eye sockets contained no eyeballs, only two eerie green will-o'-the-wisps flickering slightly.

They moved with a limp but not slow pace, emitting low, hoarse sounds, like demons crawling out of hell.

Behind these monsters were more than thirty living people.

They were all fierce-looking, their clothes tattered and stained with dark red blood. They brandished swords and rudimentary soul tools, their eyes gleaming with bloodlust.

Most of the bandits emanated fluctuations of soul power, though these were mostly very weak, at most around level ten.

Standing at the very back of the group was a bald, burly man whose cultivation was clearly superior to the others. Four spirit rings were shining brightly beneath his feet, indicating that he was a Spirit Master.

The bandits stared at the caravan around the campfire with eyes that looked at dead people, as if they were lambs to the slaughter.

Some of the bandits had even started licking their lips and rubbing their fingers back and forth on the blades, eager to pounce and reap lives.

"They're actually corpse slaves."

Huo Yuhao's gaze swept over the black, foul-smelling humanoid monsters, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.

Corpse slaves are puppets created by evil soul masters using living people. They forcibly extract the souls of the living people and then use evil secret methods to temper their bodies into weapons that only know how to kill.

Evil Soul Masters who can create corpse slaves must have a cultivation level of at least Soul Master or higher, and their methods are extremely cruel.

His gaze swept past the rabble before him, landing precisely on an inconspicuous, shadowy corner deep within the dense forest.

There, an even colder aura lurked, like a venomous snake waiting for its prey to make a mistake.

It was a Soul King hiding in the shadows, clearly waiting for the caravan's guards to be held back by the corpse slaves before launching a surprise attack.

A slight, cold smile curled at the corner of Huo Yuhao's lips.

Having been with the Holy Spirit Cult for so long, he was all too familiar with the methods of these evil soul masters who created corpse slaves.

These corpse slaves are not only incredibly strong and insensitive to pain, but their bodies are also covered in putrefactive poison.

If bitten or scratched by them, the toxins will spread, and if medication is not taken in time, there is a high chance of death.

Moreover, even in death, there is no peace, because the corpse poison will corrode and assimilate the body, and after a little refining, it will become a new corpse slave.

Besides the corpse poison, the corpse slaves have another fatal flaw.

Their bodies are implanted with the Corpse Explosion Technique by evil spirit masters. Once they are killed or deliberately detonated by evil spirit masters, they will produce a violent explosion.

The power of the corpse explosion is comparable to a full-force attack from a Soul Master, and the corpse poison produced by the explosion will spread over a large area, making it extremely difficult to defend against in a chaotic battle.

The caravan leader's expression changed drastically, but after all, he had spent most of his life navigating this treacherous trade route and had seen all sorts of dangers.

He gritted his teeth, stepped forward, cupped his hands in a gesture of respect towards the bald, burly man, and tried to make his voice sound calm.

His tone was somewhat humble and pleading: "Master, we are a legitimate merchant caravan, and we have no grudge against you."

"If the head of the household is short of money, we are willing to leave some goods and money behind as a way of making friends."

"Please, sir, show some mercy and let us pass. A fight wouldn't be good for anyone, would it?"

His words were very apt; he voluntarily handed over the money and adopted a humble attitude.

In his experience, most bandits were only after money. As long as they could pay to avoid trouble, the caravan would at most suffer a loss, but would not lose their lives.

After all, they have a Soul King-level guard here. If these bandits really try to take action, the chances of them being wiped out are extremely high.

Therefore, the leader believed that the bandits would absolutely not dare to make a move and would only know when to stop.

However, this time, his experience didn't work.

Because what he was facing was not just ordinary bandits, but a group of crazed evil spirit masters.

Their primary goal wasn't money, but the lives of these people.

After hearing his words, the bald, burly man tilted his head, then suddenly threw his head back and let out a wild laugh.

The laughter echoed through the mountains and forests, as jarring as fingernails scraping against an iron plate.

The bandits behind him laughed unrestrainedly, their eyes filled with mockery and brutality.

The bald, burly man laughed for a while before stopping. He stuck out his scarlet tongue and licked his chapped lips, then scanned every living person around the campfire with an almost greedy look.

His voice was hoarse but excited: "Enough with the nonsense, brothers, charge! Kill them all, and feed the dead to the corpse slaves!"

Before he finished speaking, he suddenly waved his hand, and more than twenty corpse slaves and bandits pounced on the caravan like hungry wolves.

The negotiations broke down, and the caravan leader's face instantly turned extremely ugly.

He had spent most of his life roaming the outlaw world and had never seen such unruly bandits.

He wouldn't even accept money offered to him; he was determined to kill.

But there was no time for him to think. He drew his long sword from his waist and roared with all his might, "Everyone, counterattack! Fight them to the death!"

The battle erupted completely in an instant.

The group of black, festering corpse slaves charged ahead, surging towards the caravan's defenses like a tidal wave.

Several guards wielding long swords gritted their teeth and charged forward, their sharp blades whistling through the air as they slashed fiercely at the corpse slave's shoulders and chest.

However, when the blade collided with the festering flesh, it produced a piercing metallic sound, like striking rock.

The blade was dulled, but only a shallow white mark remained on the corpse slave's body, without even a drop of blood flowing out.

The guards' pupils contracted sharply, before they could even recover from their shock.

The corpse slaves then spread their festering arms, clamping down on the arms of the two guards at the front like iron clamps.