Chapter 151 Surrender or...Death
In the dense forest, Qin Mo was running at full speed. The "Dark Scale" armor produced by the Great Xia Royal Family was on his body, making his figure dark and mysterious, almost blending into the surrounding environment.
A dozen or so close followers were positioned around him, occasionally firing an arrow as he ran to eliminate any unsuspecting creatures, sometimes snakes, insects, or ferocious beasts, and sometimes fleeing natives.
The elves' tracking abilities in the jungle are comparable to those of hunting hounds. Ever since they found the cruel altar in the fire, their elven followers have detected a peculiar aura. Qin Mo and his companions have been relentlessly pursuing this aura, having already caught up with two straggling wizards, but they still haven't found any trace of Taman.
Qin Mo suddenly stopped, and the elf attendants around her also slowed down and cautiously searched ahead. Before long, they saw the golden-haired elf Aya leading the way.
"Your Highness, a fierce battle took place here, and many people died. It seems to have been the work of their sorcerers."
A large number of corpses appeared in the dense forest. Both sides were natives, but some of the natives died in strange ways, with no signs of resistance on their bodies, as if their heads had been cut off in a dream. Among them was one who was obviously an important figure in the tribe, with a head full of chicken feathers, indicating that he was a true warrior.
Qin Mo pursued Taman because of Alai's description of the sorcerer. Alai, the sorcerer, came from Borneo, and Taman was the only person who could contact that place. Where is Borneo? East Malaysia. Malaysians have an alternate name—"the sorcerers." During the MH370 disappearance, the "government" even sought the help of sorcerers to find the plane.
"Keep chasing them. We need to find them alive or dead."
Qin Mo's trip south had two purposes: first, to help Governor Liu resolve the Luzon Island issue; and second, to first explore the important sea route between East and West. Singapore was an unavoidable destination, and it was located directly west of Borneo.
These shamans acted mysteriously, yet held great prestige among the native tribes. Qin Mo had to figure out what their tradition was all about, and the altar found in Taman's lair proved it was a "cult," with many people having their life force drained, their purpose unknown. Qin Mo would never allow such a sect to exist in his colony.
"Chirp chirp"
A faint bird song came from ahead, and all the elf followers perked up. After chasing for half the night, they finally caught up with their target's tail.
"Let's take a break! Have something to eat and then we'll continue."
In a short time, Taman aged considerably. If Taman was old and frail during the Battle of North Dinh, he was now practically halfway to his grave—not far from death.
“Master, we can’t go any further. The believers are exhausted. They’ve been running for twelve hours straight and they’ll be dead tired.”
"If anyone doesn't want to keep running, then let them go and find their own way to survive."
After giving a few instructions, Taman closed his eyes to rest. He was simply too old, and even though his "divine arts" had improved over the years, he couldn't withstand a few more of this kind of ordeal.
"Ah...ah...ah!"
Several screams rang out, causing Taman to jump up in shock as he looked at his most valued disciple, Chagu, who was wielding a long sword and directing several loyal followers to kill all the departing followers on the spot.
"Chagu, why did you kill them? I told them to leave, you..."
“Master, over the years, I have dedicated myself to the gods, yet this is the result. Now you want to dismiss even my only remaining followers. Do you want me to have nothing left?”
The young wizard's face was contorted with rage, a stark contrast to the timid and obedient apprentice he once was.
“Chagu, using human blood sacrifice is only one way to obtain divine magic inheritance. You shouldn’t be so obsessed. These believers have followed us this far and have already shown their loyalty. Let them go!”
"No, why is it that I'm the only one who hasn't learned divine magic all these years? It must be you... You're just using me and not teaching me the real divine magic."
"Chagu, divine arts are inherently mysterious and difficult to explain. Those who are sincere are more likely to be chosen by the gods, as you know. Why be so persistent?"
Taman saw Chagu's expression, devoid of joy or sorrow, while the other wizards watched from the sidelines, all seemingly at their wits' end, each harboring their own ulterior motives.
“Master, Chagu is not an ungrateful person. If you teach me the art of black magic, I will definitely escort you to Mindanao.”
Chagu lowered his head, concealing the ferocity on his face. His respectful words reminded Taman of Lianchu, the kind and honest young tribal chief.
"Heh heh! Chagu, what if I don't agree?" Taman suddenly laughed, looking at the restless wizards around him, knowing that tonight might be the last time he would see the 'mysterious' moon.
"Ahem! Sorry! I've been squatting for too long and my legs are numb. I couldn't understand a word of your chatter, and I've lost all interest in watching the show."
A lazy voice terrified all the wizards and the remaining hundred or so warriors. They couldn't understand what the voice meant, but they knew what language it was. In less than a year, people who spoke this language had traveled all over Luzon Island, driving them to the brink of despair.
"Ahem! Since the noble sir of Great Xia has arrived, it seems I have truly reached the end of my road. These believers are actually innocent. I wonder if the noble sir could let them leave? I, Taman, will offer my head, which the noble sir may use to claim credit."
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