Chapter Seventy-One: Peril on Every Side

Staring into the darkness, Gibler's men recoiled in terror as pairs of crimson blood-like eyes suddenly flickered to life.

"You, go take a look!"

Gibler shoved one of his men forward. When the man shook his head frantically, Gibler continued, "Don't worry, I'm right behind you. If anything happens, I'll back you up right away." Having said this, Gibler took a torch from one of his subordinates and thrust it into the man's hands. The man was caught between fear and duty—if he refused, Gibler would kill him himself. With no other choice, he braced himself and moved forward.

This man's name was Dock. He had a large scar on his head and a sharply pointed skull, reminiscent of an egg. As he took the torch from Gibler, Dock trembled as he approached the blood-red eyes.

He stopped about four or five meters from the tree hosting the eyes. He noticed that the vines on the ground seemed alive, slowly creeping toward him.

What Dock didn't know was that those eyes were not the tree's own—they were, in fact, the product of a parasitic demon beast.

These creatures, known as Flame Worms, lived symbiotically upon the demon trees. One of the smallest demon beasts in existence, they were no larger than fireflies. They were harmless; each had a small sac at the tail end which, when engorged with blood, would glow red like a tiny lantern. As more blood pooled in the sac, the red intensified, and when gathered in swarms, they formed patterns that looked like bloodshot eyes. When sensing danger, the Flame Worms would instantly stop the flow of blood into their sacs, causing the red color to vanish as if the eyes had closed.

Because of their diminutive size, Flame Worms could not hunt for themselves. One day, they discovered a sticky secretion on the demon trees that served as food, and from then on, the trees became their home. Willingly, they served as the tree's "eyes," helping it hunt. In return, after every feast, the demon trees would secrete more nourishing sap for the worms.

Such mutualism was rare among demon beasts.

…

When Dock saw the vines crawling toward him, he screamed and turned to run. His panicked retreat set off the others, but none could outrun the serpentine vines.

With a sharp whistle, a vine lashed out, snaring Dock's ankle. Its strength was immense, dragging him backward across the ground.

"Boss, save... save me!"

Dock pleaded with Gibler, who, upon seeing the attacking vines, immediately ordered a retreat.

As more vines reached out from all directions, Gibler abandoned Dock. He snatched a bow from a subordinate and aimed in Dock's direction.

Seeing Gibler seemingly about to help, Dock felt a glimmer of hope—only to realize, in the next instant, that it was a cruel illusion.

Gibler's arrow was aimed at him, not the vines; he had already been written off as a lost cause.

With a twang, an arrow pierced Dock's thigh, eliciting a scream of agony. The other subordinates turned to Gibler in shock, unable to comprehend his ruthlessness.

"What are you standing around for? Run!" Gibler bellowed. Dock's cries had attracted even more blood-eye trees. Though some had wanted to save him, the instinct for self-preservation in the face of death overrode all else.

People are selfish by nature—especially when their lives are at stake. The instinct to survive makes one abandon everything, stopping at nothing to ensure one's own escape.

"Don't—don't leave me! Please, have mercy, save me!"

"Gibler! You beast, you'll die a miserable death... ahhhh... even as a ghost, I won't let you go..."

Dock's curses were cut short by a sharp pain in his chest. Looking down, he saw a vine had pierced him through, its blood-red tip jutting out, blood pouring from the wound. Coughing up mouthfuls of blood, he cast one last desperate look at his companions before his head slumped forward…

The group ran blindly forward until suddenly, the ground dropped away—a sheer cliff barred their path.

The blood-eye trees had caught up, their vines lashing out at Gibler. In his desperation, Gibler shoved another subordinate in front of him as a human shield.

A vine impaled the man through the abdomen and burst out his back. The man managed one wide-eyed look at Gibler before collapsing, sacrificed in his place.

Witnessing this, the remaining men instinctively distanced themselves from Gibler. More frightening than the blood-eye trees was Gibler himself.

The vines surged forward like a tide. The remaining subordinates huddled together, backs pressed tight, brandishing short knives against the writhing tendrils.

Gibler, now isolated because of his betrayal, relied on brute strength—he pried a boulder from the ground and hurled it at the oncoming vines.

Some of the vines recoiled in pain, but it was a futile gesture. Meanwhile, the others were being struck by the vines, their bodies pierced and wounded.

Just as all seemed lost, a blaze of torches flared up from the forest—Li Hu and his men had arrived to the rescue.

Li Hu's group had encountered the blood-eye trees as well, but he had not abandoned a single comrade. Though wounded from head to toe, he let no one fall behind.

Through observation, Li Hu discovered the trees’ weakness: they feared fire. As soon as the torches drew near, the vines would recoil.

Li Hu led from the front, waving his torch and clearing a path through the vines. His team followed suit, forming a line with their torches held high. The blood-eye trees dared not approach, and Li Hu seized the opportunity to rescue the wounded men from Tubo.

They fled westward.

Eventually, the party reached a broad, open mountainside scattered with strange and fantastical rocks. When they saw that the blood-eye trees had not followed, they stopped to rest and tend their injuries.

By now, the teams of Li Hu and the Tubo warriors had become as one, helping each other to care for their wounded.

This time, everyone bore wounds of varying severity. Three men from the Tubo side had perished. It was not hard to imagine that Li Pingyang and his companion were faring no better.

Li Hu’s team had fared slightly better, so they took turns keeping watch and caring for the critically wounded Tubo men. They had brought no food, so all were hungry.

Fearing a renewed attack by the blood-eye trees, they lit several bonfires around the camp—both as a defense and for warmth.

Around midnight, as one man finished his watch and was about to relieve another, he felt the sudden urge to relieve himself. Groggily, he stumbled behind a distant boulder.

As the hot stream splashed onto the stone, he noticed that the rock seemed to move. Surprised, he called another man over to take a look.

Both stared curiously at the shifting stone.

At that moment, the torch in their hands cast a massive shadow on the ground—it seemed something enormous was standing right behind them!