Chapter 12: The Blood of the Unicorn

After realizing this, the newly reorganized centaurs bound their spears to their hands with vines and set aside all their belongings. Once they were ready, the centaurs began leaping from tree to tree, each dragging along a harpy as a test subject, as they put it, now determined to challenge their enemies in speed.

Watching their determined actions, Li Mingxing found himself growing fond of these centaurs. Though they were not much to look at, their relentless spirit impressed him. Li Mingxing was already considering forming them into their own corps, should their numbers increase.

Unaware of Li Mingxing’s intentions, the centaurs immediately took up their spears and sprinted off, not even bothering to put on clothes, as soon as new intelligence arrived.

Following behind the centaurs was Li Mingxing’s squad of gray dwarves, with the harpies next in line. The harpies were carrying a medical tent Li Mingxing had seized from the Otherworld in a previous raid; now, without the 'Forest Nymph Legion,' this was his only means of treating his wounded troops.

Should he lose this resource, the casualties in this battle would be disastrous for Li Mingxing. At the very least, none of his centaurs sent against the enemy would survive.

Once the medical tent was set up, the harpies relayed the message: the enemy had reached the area originally planned for the ambush.

Judging by their hasty movements, they already knew the pegasus cavalry had been attacked, but were still unsure of their fate.

The unicorn was also aware that the pegasus cavalry was one of the rarest units in Dragon City—partly because pegasi were hard to find, but also due to the difficulty of elves cooperating with them. After all, few elves were qualified to ride a pegasus.

Adding in the training required, the number of pegasus cavalry dwindled further. Even though the unicorn possessed more than a dozen unicorns himself, he had only five pegasus cavalry under his command.

The loss of even one would be heartbreaking, let alone the prospect of losing all five at once.

So, the unicorn urged his troops onward, desperate to reach the last known location of the pegasus cavalry and discover their fate.

However, as his force crossed into the territory once belonging to the unicorn herd, he suddenly sensed something was amiss.

Sensing danger, he shouted, “Everyone, prepare for battle! Be alert!”

But his warning came a moment too late. More than a hundred centaurs burst out from cover and charged straight at the unicorn’s force, disregarding any disparity in strength. With green-tipped spears, the centaurs vaulted over the dwarves and landed before the elven archers, thrusting their spears at the slender elves.

Faced with such an assault, the elven archers reacted with remarkable speed. Knowing they could not allow the centaurs to close in, they didn’t even attempt to counterattack, but turned and fled.

Seeing this, the unicorn breathed a sigh of relief; his greatest fear was that the archers would be swept up in the heat of battle and try to fight the centaurs in melee, which would be suicide.

With the dwarven warriors holding the front, as long as the elven archers got some distance, they could rain arrows down and slaughter the centaurs.

But just as the unicorn thought victory was assured, chaos erupted within the dwarves’ square formation.

Before he could grasp what was happening, a swarm of gray dwarves charged into the fray, axes raised high, and attacked the unicorn’s dwarven warriors. The warriors, originally there to protect the archers, abandoned their post and ran to confront the gray dwarves.

Unlike the unicorn, the centaurs seemed to have predicted this outcome. They ignored the dwarves darting past their feet and charged straight at the elves.

The elves, the dominant race of the Otherworld, could hardly tolerate such audacity. Swiftly, they split into two groups—one retreated rapidly, while the other advanced to engage the centaurs, hoping to slow their attack.

This was a sound tactic; by hampering the centaurs’ speed, the thirty archers in the rear could unleash a volley of arrows and perhaps wipe out the centaurs in one blow, with maybe half of the frontline elves surviving.

But the centaurs had anticipated this as well. Before attacking, they had already assigned targets, with two centaurs for each elf. The withdrawal of some elves did nothing to hinder their assault, and they split their force just as the elves had.

The elves were stunned; they hadn’t expected such a strategy. Then one elf shouted, “They’re not wearing armor—our daggers can kill them!”

This rekindled the elves’ hope, but the unicorn’s heart sank. As soon as the call went up, elves and centaurs fell into a chaotic melee.

At that moment, a great flock of harpies appeared in the sky. These white harpies carried blowpipes, aiming down at the embattled elves.

The elves, oblivious to the danger above, sneered at the sight of the harpies. “Their blades are weak—if they dare come down, we’ll slaughter them!”

But they hadn’t realized the harpies had changed their weapons. When the darts struck, they understood too late that the harpies were no longer the weaklings they once bullied.

Meanwhile, the situation among the dwarves deteriorated further. Lightning struck again and again, hitting the dwarven warriors without pause.

Although dwarves were highly resistant to magic, the relentless barrage of lightning was overwhelming, especially for the dwarven defenders clad in nearly pure steel armor. Against ordinary foes, such armor was a great defense—but against lightning, it became a conductor.

In the first three waves of attacks, more than half the lightning was drawn to the defenders alone.

At first, the dwarves thought the defenders were doing this on purpose, but when they saw one collapse to the ground, smoke rising from his body, they realized something was terribly wrong.

Just as they were about to retreat, a black-skinned gray dwarf leapt out and with a single stroke of his axe, decapitated the dwarven defender. The gray dwarves’ assault began in earnest.

At this point, the unicorn was plunged into utter despair. Glancing at his forces mired in chaos, he made up his mind to abandon them and flee back to Dragon City. He was certain that if he could just reach the city, he would be safe.

But then, a voice rang out from afar: “Unicorn whelp, an excellent vessel. Come, let us duel! I’m eager to see what level a young Tier-Six creature can reach.”

The unicorn looked up to see a purple manticore standing nearby—judging by its size and appearance, it too was only a juvenile Tier-Six beast.

In that instant, the unicorn’s first thought wasn’t whether he could defeat Li Mingxing the manticore, but rather about his own apprentice hero’s vessel.

That was nothing more than an ordinary blood elf, with no special traits except a talent for magic. When his vessel appeared, the apprentice hero had been envious for a long time.

If now that apprentice hero encountered this manticore whelp, would he have a chance?

With this thought, the unicorn glanced back toward Dragon City. Taking advantage of this distraction, Li Mingxing pounced, driving his scorpion tail into the unicorn’s body.

This triggered the unicorn’s Blindness skill. Taking advantage of Li Mingxing’s temporary blindness, the unicorn wrenched out the stinger and prepared to counterattack—but his body suddenly felt numb.

In a flash, he understood: he’d been poisoned by Li Mingxing. The irony almost made him laugh—his vessel was a unicorn, renowned as the holy beast whose horn was the best antidote material, and yet he had fallen to poison.

Determined, the unicorn shook his head, trying to neutralize the toxin with his blood, and braced himself to charge the still-blinded Li Mingxing.

But at that moment, Li Mingxing suddenly roared, lunged forward, and bit down on the unicorn’s head, pinning him hard to the ground.