I ran after the wraiths to the enemy camp. It was a complete chaos out there, with people running between tents and only a few torches lighting the almost complete darkness of the night. Not everybody has been fighting on the front line against the Lin clan—there were still plenty of those who were too slow, or too wounded, or just weren't soldiers at all.
The wraiths didn't discriminate.
They lunged at whoever was the closest, consuming their life and heat with a deadly touch, then moved to the next person. Often, their victims didn't even notice the wraith until it was already there.
"An ambush! We are ambushed!"
"These are evil spiri—AAAAAGH!"
"Somebody, please, save us! Cultivators, save us! Aaaagh, get away from me!"
It was shockingly effective. All that the enemy soldiers could oppose us with were screams and fear. Those who tried to run had only one direction—toward the Lin soldiers, who cheered, emboldened by the wraiths' help.
