The trade had just concluded, and Kagashi hadn’t even finished the kumis in his hand.
Suddenly, the hurried sound of galloping hooves came from outside the tent.
The hoofbeats drew closer, accompanied by human shouting and the neighing of horses.
Baturu’s expression changed instantly.
He stood up abruptly, a scimitar already gripped in his hand.
The old man also stood up, the wrinkles on his face tightening as if pulled by something.
The door flap was flung open, and a young cavalryman rushed in, covered in blood, with a feathered arrow stuck in his left shoulder.
He knelt on one knee before Baturu, speaking a long string of urgent words.
Baturu’s expression shifted from shock to anger, and from anger to a ferocious look, like the sky before a storm.
Baturu let out a roar, and the entire area outside the tent instantly erupted into a frenzy.
Men vaulted onto their horses, women stuffed children into tents, and the elderly picked up bows and arrows; the entire camp transformed from a peaceful twilight into a battlefield ready for war in an instant.
Baturu turned to Kagashi, pointed outside, and made a gesture for “enemy.”
He then pointed to his own chest and made an “attack” gesture.
Fire burned in his eyes.
Kagashi stood up, walked to the tent entrance, and lifted the flap to look out.
The western sky was reflected red by the light of a fire.
Tents were burning.
The shadows of cavalry could be vaguely seen weaving through the flames, their scimitars flashing with a cold light under the firelight.
Kagashi looked back at the four girls.
“Help out,” Kagashi said.
“Let them feel the magic of a despicable outsider.”
“Oh right, we’re not actually despicable.”
Baturu was stunned for a moment.
He had thought these strangers who came out of the iron carriage would take advantage of the chaos to hide back inside, but Kagashi didn’t.
Kagashi walked out of the tent and stood in the twilight, the wind of the plains blowing the hem of his clothes.
Roxy followed behind him, the gem at the tip of her staff glowing with a silver-white light.
Misaka Mikoto walked on the left, blue-white electric arcs crackling at her fingertips.
Yoshino walked on the right, a crystal-clear ice shield condensing in front of her.
Furina walked at the rear, pale blue water spheres slowly rotating in the palms of her hands.
Baturu glanced at them without a word, vaulted onto his horse, drew his scimitar, and let out a roar.
Dozens of Wuen Tribe cavalry followed behind him, surging toward the western battlefield like a tide.
Kagashi didn’t ride a horse, but his speed was no slower than one.
With his body enhanced by Physical Reinforcement, he sprinted across the plains, each step covering several meters as the grassland receded rapidly beneath his feet.
Roxy used wind magic to speed up the girls.
The western camp was already in a state of chaos.
Tents were burning, and cattle and sheep were running in panic.
The attackers weren’t an ordinary grassland tribe.
Their horses were faster, their blades sharper, and their armor more refined.
And they had mages.
A person wearing a grey robe stood in the center of the camp, holding a short wand.
Whenever the Wuen Tribe cavalry charged, those grey-robed individuals would raise their wands, and waves of dark red light would spread out.
The warhorses would neigh in fright, the men would feel dizzy, and the arrows would veer off course.
Baturu’s cavalry was being suppressed.
They couldn’t break in and couldn’t hit their targets, forced to circle around the perimeter of the camp.
Kagashi did not hesitate.
“Roxy, that grey robe.”
Roxy raised her staff, the tip glowing with an orange-red light as fireballs flew out like a rapid-fire cannon.
They cut through the sky and smashed precisely into that grey-robed man.
The fireballs exploded, and the grey-robed man fell to the ground screaming as his robes caught fire, the dark red light instantly extinguishing.
The spirits of the Wuen Tribe cavalry were lifted.
Baturu gave a great roar and led his men charging into the camp.
“Mikoto, the archers.” Misaka Mikoto raised her hand, electric arcs exploding from her fingertips as thick currents of electricity shot toward the archers at the edge of the camp.
The electricity jumped through the crowd, and over a dozen archers collapsed in convulsions, their arrows scattering.
“Yoshino, ice wall.” Yoshino waved her hand, summoning a massive ice wall to block the retreat.
Warhorses crashed into the wall, and cavalrymen were flung off, falling and unable to get back up.
“Furina, healing.”
Furina’s Singer of Many Waters was already weaving through the crowd, a pale blue healing halo enveloping the wounded Wuen Tribe cavalry.
Someone’s arm had been slashed, and the wound healed after the halo passed; someone had fallen from their horse and broken a leg, and the bone set after the halo passed.
Baturu’s cavalry fought with increasing bravery, and the attackers retreated step by step.
In less than half an hour, the battle was over.
More than half of the attackers were dead or wounded, and the rest were surrounded in a narrow strip between the ice wall and the lake, throwing down their weapons and raising their hands in surrender.
Baturu reined in his horse in front of Kagashi, dismounted, crossed his hands over his chest, and bowed ninety degrees.
This bow was deeper than any before, and lasted longer than any before.
He looked up at Kagashi, his eyes filled with gratitude and respect.
Baturu walked over to the body of the attackers’ leader, knelt down, and searched him for a while.
He pulled a parchment scroll from the inner lining of the leader’s robe and unfurled it.
Kagashi leaned in.
It was a map.
The parchment was yellowed and the edges worn, but the content marked on it was still clear.
The terrain of the plains, rivers, lakes, and the locations of various tribes were all there; the Wuen Tribe’s location was marked with a wolf’s head.
Around it were marks for seven or eight other tribes, some drawn with eagles, some with deer, and some with scimitars. New chapters come out on g.com first.
But to the east of the camp, at a distance of about three hours by horse, there was a special mark: a hexagram pattern surrounded by unintelligible script.
Beside the hexagram was a small tent symbol, with a line of small characters underneath.
He pointed at the mark, then at the bodies of the attackers on the ground, and made the “enemy” gesture.
Then he gestured with his hands to show a “small” shape—a small outpost.
Then he held up three fingers—three hours by horse.
Kagashi understood.
This was the attackers’ outpost.
They were lone wolves drifting from afar, with a temporary small outpost set up only three hours away from here.
There might still be people left behind at the outpost, along with supplies they had plundered from various tribes.
Baturu looked at Kagashi, the fire in his eyes burning once again.
He pointed to himself, then to Kagashi, made a gesture for “go together,” and then patted the scimitar at his waist.
A three-hour journey there, six hours round-trip, plus the time for battle—about seven or eight hours in total.
There were still over nine hours of docking time left.
He nodded.
Baturu grinned and turned to shout a few times to the cavalrymen.
Immediately, someone brought over several horses—the best ones, with shiny coats and solid muscles.
Baturu patted the neck of a chestnut horse and handed the reins to Kagashi.
Kagashi took the reins and vaulted onto the horse.
His movements weren’t very practiced, but his body coordination after Physical Reinforcement was excellent; once he was seated firmly, there was no problem.
The four girls also mounted their respective horses.
Roxy rode the most steadily; there were horses in her original world.
Furina rode wobbling, but she gripped the reins tightly and refused to get down.
Misaka Mikoto rode quite normally, her legs gripping the horse’s belly and her fingers not daring to leave the reins.
Yoshino was the most afraid and was held by Roxy, riding the same horse.
Baturu chose thirty of his most elite cavalrymen, each equipped with two horses—one for riding and one for carrying supplies.
The troop set out.
The wind whistled past their ears, carrying the unique scent of green grass from the plains and the salty smell of the distant lake.
The three-hour journey seemed exceptionally long.
Yoshino had already fallen asleep in Roxy’s arms, her small face buried in Yoshinon’s fluff.
Kagashi looked at them, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.
These girls from the world of anime, riding on horseback across the plains, running.
In the past, he wouldn’t have even dared to imagine it.
Ahead, at the end of the horizon, a few tents could be vaguely seen.
Baturu reined in his horse, looked back at Kagashi, and pointed in that direction—they had arrived.
Kagashi clenched his fist, the power of the Ox Talisman surging within his body.
It might not seem tempting right nobut who knows what the future holds?
“And If you’re enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!”