The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis
Chapter 82: Lessons To Be Learned

Chapter 82: Lessons To Be Learned

The battlefield moaned beneath her steps.

Mud churned with blood. Ash painted the wind. And the flames—bright blue, unnatural, hungrier than fire had any right to be—bowed away from her like subjects before a queen.

Zhao Xinying walked through the carnage without slowing.

There was no rage in her face.

Only purpose.

The mist moved ahead of her now, sweeping wide across the scorched ground. It no longer danced. It hunted. Each thread of smoke curled with intention, weaving between broken bodies and shattered spears, choosing targets like a conductor leading an orchestra of agony.

And what a symphony it was.

A scream cut across the field as a Chixia officer tried to rally the flank.

However, he never managed to finish the order. His mouth opened, but his skin blackened too fast for sound to pass through it. The mist had crawled into his throat.

Xinying didn’t look back. She already knew he was dead.

Behind her, she could sense both of the men she had claimed for herself.

Zhu Deming’s steps—heavy, grounded, laced with loyalty. He walked the way soldiers marched: toward death without complaint.

Shi Yaozu’s movements were harder to trace. Lighter. Calculated. His presence was like hers—difficult to pinpoint unless he allowed it. A blade in the shadow.

But they were both behind her.

And that meant—for the first time in days—she could finally breathe.

The burden of restraint slid off her shoulders like an old robe. Her back straightened, her chin lifted, and her eyes gleamed gold.

She didn’t have to hold back anymore.

Not with them safe.

Not with her men where she could see them.

A flick of her fingers, and the fire answered.

Not in sparks, not in bursts.

But rather in waves.

Blue flames surged across the battlefield, licking over corpses and chariots alike. They avoided Deming and Yaozu instinctively, as if her body understood where not to burn. But everything else? It caught. Armor screamed as it warped. Banners curled into ash.

She stepped over a fallen spear, its shaft still warm. A soldier lunged at her from the right—one of the few brave or foolish enough to try.

He didn’t make it close.

The moment his foot touched her shadow, the mist lashed upward like a whip, slashing through his armor and ribcage in a single motion. He dropped before his weapon even left his hand.

Still, she didn’t pause.

The Red Demons had begun to move again behind her. Not quickly. Not with confidence. But they moved.

Sun Longzi barked orders like thunder, driving them forward.

But they weren’t watching him.

They were watching her.

"Let her clear the way!" someone yelled, a younger officer whose face was drawn tight with awe. "Just stay behind her!"

Xinying smiled faintly. Not at the fear. Not even at the reverence. But at the efficiency of the man who knew what to do. Intelligence like that was not to be wasted... she could work with it.

A sudden ripple in the mist warned her of movement.

She snapped her hand up.

A dozen blades shot from the ground like teeth, skewering the squadron that had tried to flank her. Steel bent to her will, the metal twisting itself into brutal shapes. It didn’t matter if their swords were raised. It didn’t matter if they begged. The ground claimed them anyway.

A low growl to her left let her know that Shadow had returned to her side. Blood stained his muzzle, and his coat rippled like smoke, dark enough to blur into the haze. His paws were soaked to the ankle in mud and gore.

"You are going to need a bath after this, and I won’t listen to complaints," she chuckled without looking at the wolf.

The beast snorted in amusement, but dipped his head in agreement.

Good.

Another rank of Chixia foot soldiers charged, their voices raising over the cries of their fallen comrades. Smiling brightly, Xinying met them head-on.

Not with strength. Not with volume. But with a single step and a gesture.

The air went still for a split second before the mist detonated.

Black tendrils slammed outward like a collapsing star. Men screamed as it reached them. Armor collapsed inward. Skin split like parchment. Their horses reared, only to be caught midair and dragged down by invisible claws.

By the time she finished exhaling, not a single one of the soldiers were left standing.

Zhu Deming had stopped a few paces behind her, his sword lowered, his eyes locked on her back. He wasn’t afraid. That much she could feel. But he was quiet in a way that she couldn’t interpret.

Shi Yaozu passed him silently, moving to her right flank. He didn’t speak either. Didn’t try to touch her. But his presence settled into step with hers like it belonged there.

And it did.

Because they were hers.

Not in a soft way.

Not in a fragile way.

They were hers like steel was forged, like oaths were carved into bone. She would kill for them. Burn for them. Case in point, she was killing for them. And until they were clear of this war, until they were no longer surrounded on all sides by men who thought they could take something from her—

She would not stop.

Another officer to her left raised a horn, likely to signal a retreat.

She waved a hand, not willing to let anyone escape. Yelan should have known better, they should have warned Chixia that she didn’t send messages, that she didn’t back down. It was their fault they were in this mess, and she wasn’t letting a single man slip through her fingers to try again another day.

The horn melted in his grip, causing him to scream. He was still screaming when the fire reached his lungs.

Still she walked. Boots blackened by ash, the hem of her dress glinting with flame.

Above them, a hawk circled—probably carrying messages back to the rear units. She made a note to kill the next bird that tried to report her position.

No one would warn the Chixia and Yelan kings. Not yet.

Let them wait. Let them wonder why the southern skies were lit with unnatural fire.

Let them guess what was happening to their men.

She stopped at the edge of a ridge and looked down. She had never seen so many men before, she had killed so many, and yet, even more were coming.

She saw the banners of Chixia curling in the wind—tattered but bold. She saw the reserve units being deployed in tighter formations. Another wave. Another gamble.

"They never learn," she murmured, not believing that they were so willing to die on this battlefield. It baffled her mind. Shadow growled low, jaws parting.

"We’ll teach them," she promised, a slight smile on her face. "After all, there are still two more countries that might try something. We might as well teach them all at the same time and hope that they learn their lesson."

Her mist rolled forward again.

And far behind her, Sun Longzi raised his blade.

"Follow the Witch!" he bellowed. "Follow Death!"

For once, no one argued.

Because even the fire bowed.