Chaos spread throughout the Wildling Tribe.
Terrified screams, angry roars, and the random clashing of weapons... the Wildlings, like headless flies, crashed into each other amidst the smoke and flames.
Some Wildlings tried to organize a counterattack, but were quickly brought down by poisoned arrows shot from the darkness.
More people, driven by fear, instinctively surged towards the valley's only exit.
Then, they ran headlong into the trap Lynn had meticulously prepared for them.
Piercing screams of agony came from the direction of the valley entrance.
Adding a desperate footnote to the chaos.
Toren's and Harvey's two teams strictly followed Lynn's orders.
They swept back and forth along the edge of the camp.
Each charge took a few Wildling lives and set a few tents ablaze.
Then they quickly retreated into the darkness, giving the enemy no chance to rally and counterattack.
Their goal was not to inflict casualties, but to create panic.
They succeeded.
The entire Wildling Tribe was in utter disarray.
Lynn lurked in the shadows outside the bear-skin tent, watching it all with indifference.
His heartbeat was steady, his breathing long and even.
The scene of hell on earth before him did not stir any ripples in his heart.
Now, it was time for the enemy's commander.
The curtain of the bear-skin tent was violently thrown open.
A Wildling, as burly as an iron tower, rushed out from inside.
He was bare-chested, his bronze skin covered in ferocious blood-red totems.
His muscles were knotted, full of explosive power.
In his hand, he carried a massive bone war axe.
Dark, dried blood still clung to the axe blade.
"Roar—!"
He let out a roar like a giant bear, its sound drowning out all the clamor in the camp.
Some Wildlings, still in the midst of the chaos, heard this roar and, as if finding their backbone, instinctively moved towards him.
He was the leader of this tribe, "Blood Axe" Ragnar.
Ragnar's crimson eyes swept over the chaotic camp, and he quickly assessed the situation.
"It's the crows from the south!"
He roared in the Wildling tongue.
"They're not many! Don't be afraid!"
"Warriors! Pick up your weapons! Follow me and kill all these damned crows!"
His roar did have some effect.
Some Wildling warriors began to gather around him, attempting to organize effective resistance.
But it was too late.
Just as Ragnar focused all his attention on the chaos in the camp.
A black shadow, silent and swift, lunged from the shadows behind him.
It was Lynn!
His purpose in hiding here was for this very moment!
The instant Ragnar turned, Lynn's speed erupted to its maximum.
The valyrian steel dagger in his hand, tracing a cold gleam under the firelight, aimed straight for Ragnar's back.
This strike was as fast as lightning, and its angle was tricky.
However, Ragnar's reaction exceeded Lynn's expectations.
As if he had eyes in the back of his head, his body twisted sharply to the side.
"Rip!"
The sharp edge of the dagger grazed Ragnar's ribs.
The strike left a wound deep enough to expose bone, and blood instantly gushed out.
But it did not hit a vital spot.
"Ah!"
The intense pain made Ragnar let out an angry roar.
He turned sharply.
The massive bone axe, with a whistling sound that tore through the air, swept horizontally.
Lynn's pupils contracted, his toes pushed off the ground, and his body retreated rapidly.
The axe blade almost brushed past his nose.
The fierce gust of wind stung his cheek.
Such a quick reaction!
Such powerful strength!
A hint of surprise flashed in Lynn's mind.
This Wildling chieftain was much more formidable than he had imagined.
Having missed his strike, Lynn put away his dragonbone dagger, then drew his Light Sword, gripping it with both hands, and adopted a fighting stance.
Ragnar stabilized his body.
His crimson eyes were fixed on Lynn.
"A little mouse."
He bared his teeth, a cruel smile spreading across his face.
"To dare sneak up on me."
He stuck out his tongue and licked the corner of his mouth.
"I will tear you to shreds!"
Ragnar roared again and charged forward.
The bone axe in his hand swung wide and powerfully.
Each strike was heavy and forceful, stirring up gusts of fierce wind.
Lynn chose not to clash head-on with him.
Although the strength amplification from the frostheart grass was immense, there was still a significant gap compared to the monster before him.
He couldn't take it head-on!
He utilized the techniques of the Light Sword to their utmost.
His figure, amidst Ragnar's storm-like attacks, was as elusive as a fallen leaf in the wind.
Each time, it was by a hair's breadth.
Narrowly avoiding the deadly axe blade.
"Clang! Clang! Clang!"
The long sword in Lynn's hand occasionally collided with the bone axe, producing a series of crisp clashing sounds.
He did not use the flat of the blade to block, but rather the sharpest part of the edge.
To cut, to guide, to deflect the opponent's force.
Each collision left a shallow notch on the bone axe.
The more Ragnar fought, the more alarmed he became.
This crow before him was so frail he looked like he could be blown away by a gust of wind.
Yet he was as slippery as a loach!
Every one of his attacks seemed to hit empty air.
He had strength but couldn't use it.
And the opponent's sword, like the fangs of a poisonous snake, always stabbed from the most unexpected and tricky angles.
Although each strike failed to inflict a fatal wound, the repeated stings were constantly draining his stamina and patience.
This was simply too frustrating!
"Damn crow! If you have guts, stop hiding!"
Ragnar roared in exasperation.
His answer was another tricky thrust from Lynn.
The long sword was like a nimble snake.
It bypassed the axe handle, stabbing directly at Ragnar's axe-wielding wrist.
Ragnar was forced to bring his axe back to block.
"Clang!"
Another loud crash.
Sparks flew.
Ragnar felt a violent tremor in his tiger's mouth and his arm went numb.
He was horrified to discover that the opponent subtly had the upper hand!
How could this be?
In the instant Ragnar's mind wavered.
A cold light flashed in Lynn's eyes.
Opportunity!
He no longer dodged.
His body lunged forward, closing the distance to Ragnar.
The long sword in his hand, retracted, then thrust out again!
This sword strike abandoned all skill and variation.
Only the purest speed and power remained!
"Pfft!"
The icy sword blade, without any obstruction, pierced through Ragnar's solid chest.
The sword tip emerged from his back, bringing with it warm blood.
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