Blood, with uncertainty, looked at Ballock and felt disturbed.
Ballock reminded him of his former self, without actual techniques or formidable arts. Although Ballock had improved his cultivation realm, his techniques remained crude and unpolished. Blood knew Ballock would be of little help in the clash ahead.
Ballock scowled, as he said in a sharp tone. "Why the hell are you looking at me like that?"
Blood chuckled softly, though his eyes remained serious. "Hehe… you should stay close to me throughout the battle. If we cannot endure it any longer, we will withdraw at once. I think the battle ahead will be perilous, and only by standing together can we hope to survive."
Ballock neither refuted nor agreed. He simply kept looking ahead, letting the wind drift past his face. Blood, too, refrained from disturbing him further, fixing his eyes upon the road ahead.
Two men glided along the forest route, each lost in thought. The silence between them wasn't just emptiness, but mixed with heavy anticipation.
___
"It is amazing that their forces can endure for so long. With this resilience, I am truly impressed." a man with a rough face commended. There were two figures standing behind him, their hands folded neatly atop their bellies.
Sand‑Scale City's forces stood against overwhelming odds, their defiance was a testament to discipline and resolve, forging warriors worthy of admiration.
"They will not endure for long once we employ your generous gift, Sir. Soon, they shall scatter like sparks from a forge when the stakes are raised." one of the figures spoke.
The speaker was none other than the Head of Bland Town. Yet the way he conducted himself at that moment in the presence of the rough‑faced man would make one wonder. He was subdued and looked almost tamed.
Bland Town was but a weak high‑grade three territory, its leader was only in the Silver Realm. Such weakness left the town vulnerable, easily maneuvered by superior territories.
Indeed, Bland Town had been approached by a superior territory, who took high interest in the city of Sand‑Scale, especially the strangeness surrounding its beaconing forest. Bland Town became the first to engage with Sand‑Scale City.
A superior territory had also approached Sand‑Scale City directly, offering concessions in exchange for total submission and cooperation. But the mayor's refusal only worsened the situation, forcing them to resort to other methods, since they had been late in issuing a formal challenge.
Supporting Bland Town with meager aid wouldn't arouse the Settlers' attention, since the Settlers themselves sought a way to suppress the matter and let it fade swiftly.
As far as the Settlers Army were concerned, if other groups didn't send large support, it was perfectly fine. Just because the Settlers Army mediated matters didn't mean one had to rely on them completely.
The superior territories could also buy others' spots, but that would be difficult, since it would involve negotiating with hundreds of inferior territories. It took five to ten peak Grade‑3 cities to match a Grade‑4 city, and even then, victory remained uncertain. The gap in strength and resources was vast.
The man with whisky‑colored hair spoke eagerly, "How about we make it more fun by bringing in the rest of the cannon fodder?" His eyes gleamed with anticipation.
The rough‑faced man, however, looked at him with the corner of his eye, quickly making him composed himself.
The 'gift' the rough‑faced man had given them was a large number of warriors, mostly of the Iron Realm and a few of the Bronze Realm. Even they couldn't simply deploy any Silver‑realm forces, since those units formed their main strength; losing even one would be a serious blow.
Kill! Kill!
The dreadful roar filled the battleground as blood patterns swirled and formed in the air. Although Sand‑Scale seemed to be winning, that wasn't the case. These weak warriors had only been sent to wear them out, and the main camp had yet to arrive.
Aiye!
Galock roared as blood dripped down his face. His entire body was slick with sweat and blood. He swiftly parried the spear aimed at his face and moved to the side. He then slid forward like a tiger, slashing through the air.
Red blood sprayed as his opponent's shoulder took a deep cut. Galock gripped his sword tightly, the tip facing backward, and then shoved it into his opponent's chest, who appeared to be dealing with the earlier cut.
HE didn't even wait a second, as he twisted his shoulder back and slashed with his sword again, cleaving another enemy's neck.
The enemies were all around him.
Even though he had a higher cultivation realm and a larger energy reserve, he couldn't sustain this indefinitely. The enemies were like ants that kept coming no matter how many he killed.
Galock was astonished that they showed no sign of faltering.
He was growing exhausted; however, the thunderous cries of his brothers roused him, and his gaze instantly swept through the battlefield, locking onto every foe in sight.
He tore into them with unrelenting ferocity, bringing them down one by one. But the enemies still outnumbered them.
Quickly, several warriors of Sand-Scale who could unleash sweeping, long‑range strikes, positioned themselves around the battleground, easing the pressure for some.
Galock could see the commanders' exertions—cleaving tens of enemies with a single sweep, and yet the wave of foes never ceased. The battlefield was placed in chaos, and he soon realized that many of his comrades had already fallen.
Galock gritted his teeth, his knuckles white around his weapon. He narrowly evaded an arrow loosed from afar and kicked backward, sending an enemy sprawling to his knees.
The terrified man stared up, his eyes pleading for mercy, but Galock's gaze was merciless. He smashed a brutal kick into the guy's face, flinging him several meters, then hurled a spear that embedded itself in the guy's eye.
Sand-Scale City's warriors were fighting with measured vigor, conserving their full strength to preserve their energy reserves. They knew the final wave had yet to come and would be the deadliest, so everyone stalled.
No one had expected Bland Town to be so tenacious. They cursed at the Settlers Army with red eyes!
All of a sudden, Galock's emerald eyes flared as if he were dreaming, but he dared not drift into reverie on the battlefield; instead, a breathtaking spectacle was unfolding before him.
What the hell is this…?
Galock was stunned as he quickly made out a shadow beneath the blistering sun, skirting the enemy camp; as it flashed by, men toppled in its wake. Its passage was brief and its movements flawless, felling enemies one after another with cold efficiency.
Galock had never seen anyone on the battlefield achieve such lethal precision. It wasn't that others couldn't, but most were conserving their strength for the final blows. Contrary to that, this shadow showed no such restraint.
It moved like a scourge across the battlefield, rampant and remorseless, cutting down foes with cold grace.
The warriors who dared to stand before it fell in droves, their cries swallowed by the relentless rhythm of its advance, while the shadow pressed forward as if he were unstoppable.
Their kill count was rising sharply. Each swing and thrust of that strange weapon came at unexpected angles, as if every motion had been rehearsed thousands of times.
The shadow showed no sign of relenting; five minutes passed and it still hadn't drawn a breath, as if weariness couldn't touch it.
Some of the warriors immediately guessed that the city of Sand‑Scale had summoned reinforcements—which was plausible—while others among the enemy camp thought the Settlers had finally arrived to tip the balance.
Their minds were never drawn to the thought of reinforcements. Besides, could a single person really be enough as reinforcement?
Never!
Each motion seemed surgical, each strike perfectly timed; anyone could tell this unknown warrior had rehearsed this innumerable times. The sight unnerved the enemies—they retreated instantly when they realized the shadow was seemingly inexhaustible.
Their eyes narrowed, faces slack with fatigue, they finally began to waver. If only they knew the force that had shattered their lines was a kid, moving with effortless cruelty.
However, the worst was still to come.
Only a handful glimpsed the shadow during its fleeting pause; the hazy flash left most oblivious.
At that instant, the enemy camp was broken, warriors trampled on one another as they fled in disarray.