If one looked more carefully, Qian Ye’s combat record wasn’t actually as impressive at a glance as appeared. Most enemies cut down in sweeping machine gun fire were cheap disposable grunts of little strategic value. The actual damage to properly trained warriors of Darkness Clans remained limited. As for senior warriors—within this distance, even hit, meant little danger.
Yet Qian Ye never paused his onslaught, his attacks still mostly directed at these expendables. With the barrels of his gatling gun swiveling subtly all the while, virtually each bullet found its own separate path flying right into designated prey.
Truly miraculous marksmanship—but only aimed at grunts?
Yet several experienced veteran masters watching this combat zone immediately grasped Qian Ye’s true tactic. Indeed, expendable grunts were of negligible importance themselves; useful mostly to suppress commoners and regular fighters. Even if such masses charged into this fortress, when meeting its well-guarding elite defenders they will just get slaughtered in kind. Nevertheless, elite warriors often concealed amongst this human chaff, biding opportunity for deadly strokes. Eradicate that chaff and the cover weeds vanish entirely—leaving the lurking assassins far less effective.
Instantly those hardened old soldiers took their lead. With machine guns, large-caliber snipers, or any other rapid-fired ordnances, each started pouring fire into enemy masses approaching below.
The others still hadn’t yet understood this logic thoroughly but could at least mimic their seasoned comrades. Gunfire roared along the walls while missiles poured as thick as raining hail upon advancing Dark forces.
Yet despite combining seven or eight veteran fighters upon this wall facing Qian Ye—they couldn’t surpass Qian Ye’s sheer killing efficiency even together. Only now, in comparison did they realize that the level of control behind his shooting skill had reached something monstrous and horrifying.
Wave after wave of chaffing grunts collapsed. Upon reaching just before the keep wall itself these enemies were already abandoning over hundreds of corpses. Finally, when true battle-ready warriors led the front lines making bodily contact with the barrier, the deadly intensity escalated as proper siegemanship commenced.
After persistent firing—the gatling’s barrels glowed red from overheating, no longer capable of operation. Beside Qian Ye stood several soldiers dutifully feeding incoming supply belts into the guns. With Dark troops closing on their defensive line, he chucked aside his overheated gun, kicked open cases brimming with explosives, deftly flipping the safety clips off one handed and—inviting power magic to assist his will alone—he evenly scattered dozens of hand-grenades across the ground ahead.
The ensuing thunderclaps almost coincided. Fragments of shattered steel sprayed through broad ranges covering dozens of yards outside. Dark fighters were thrown into utter disarray—several sprawling mid-air.
One werewolf combatant, a 5th Rank one, launched at Qian Ye in one desperate leap. Mouth open and teeth bared, aimed for his throat! Yet this creature had already sustained brutal wounding from scattered shrapnel clearly visible, hiding beneath his coarse, thorn-covered fur.
Despite the bombs seemingly just meant to handle the expendables—the densely packed concussive waves had compounded with devastating results, seriously damaging the elite fighter’s durability and speed.
Mid-air leap turned toward him—Qian Ye deigned not even a direct look to confirm. Drawing forth his Blood Siphon blade without any wasted movement, he thrust cleanly straight through the wolf-heart in a single perfect piercing.
With bone shaking noise upon hitting stone below—the werewolf dropped into lifeless ruin. Qian Ye even refrained from immediately drawing that blade away; it remained left sticking there for convenience until he’d handle others.
Indeed just now two other Dark combatants bounded upon battments. Before setting proper root foothold atop stone, Qian Ye was already across instantly, blade already flashing cold arcs through dusk twilight—the Blood Siphon blades pierced clean into those chest plate coverings each one’s heart.
For a moment outside that fortress’s stretch—Dark enemies momentarily froze up in hesitation before retreating out-of-range fearfully. But Qian Ye himself merely took steady action again; descending first within walls retrieving embedded blood blade from wolf corpse, sheath it carefully in gear harness. Then leapt straight back topward where he picked up and retrieved both trailing two blood blades abandoned mid-motion prior.
Once completed, he stood and turned calmly out again toward dark battlefield beyond.
At this defensive front held under him specifically—countless enemy corpses now blocked the narrow ground around the fortress foot. Three high grade combat body remains having likewise rolled and deposited onto pile—he finally found no visible threats confronting him right now.
Indeed—those hundreds together had composed an entirely cohesive military unit altogether.
Primarily formed using grunts at the center, fleshing it out around a skeleton built upon lower-ranking elite support. Finally—highest class soldiers lurking, poised to kill enemy’s command priority targets directly. Thus reflected Dark clan doctrine—seemingly clumsy in nature, but effective in brutal simplicity. In most minds serving eternal dusk commanders—needn’t more sophisticated strategies; ultimate strength always decided any outcome since time immemorial.
At this moment naturally and easily Qian Ye stood as the linchpin holding those twenty meters of rampart wall. At only a shouted order new soldiers rushed bringing fresh rotating barrel firearms into action, stacking box upon crate full of frag-grenades beside him. Other allies meanwhile placed personal short swords nearby—some included vampirian nobles, offering Blood Siphons to help fight this desperate enemy assault.
With weapons restocked he swung up gatling barrels, unleashing with furious intensity across fresh enemy assault formations. Entire enemy battalion soon reduced nearly to collapse.
Grenade rounds cleaned up battlefield further. Then directly clashing against elite combatants emerged anew—Irrespective whether enemy breed or hierarchy tier. None so much as blinked in defense—cut, pierce, and done: all fell one by one.
“Even this will work!?” Witnessed with wide eyes across adjacent sector. Song Zining stared wide—especially observing the cold precision Qian Ye executed, one blood-blade after another cleanly through heart zones. He struggled not to fully believe the sight.
Secrets were his. Though some aristocratic empire officers enjoyed carrying vampire blood blade as mere sidearm—more show than anything due to their aesthetics. In Qian Ye’s hands, however? Their true potential awakened!
In short, while fighting before hundreds—Qian Ye openly harvested enemy vital essence in real-time.
And because this method was applied so openly under direct public scrutiny—skepticism became muted from observers’ thoughts. Yet even so—he risked more than expected. Only Song Zining truly saw the reasons: Qian Ye expected a battle with immense resistance, preparing himself frugally like most tight-fisted financier since first moments. Calculating, stretching out every drop of energy he possessed precisely without any unnecessary waste whatsoever.
By contrast Song’s defensive field displayed odd, strange results. Hundreds of dark warriors wandered clueless upon ground outside below—turning blades upon themselves chaotically, refusing the walls. Despite constant bullets sweeping from rampart above, still not organizing proper assault—just continuing mindless collision and brawls between themselves, unthinking.
Standing atop battlements was the illustrious “Qishao”—breeze flowing his noble garbs, even found mind space to leisurely flutter open handfold-fans. Adorned though now not original anymore, its precious and life-saving prior form having being substituted recently.
Seemingly relaxed and graceful—yet in truth countless Dark grunts roved lost in the domain power he casted below him. It appeared easily dealt with, yet all the while his native energy sustained an invisible burden. Compared with brutal efficiency displayed by Qian Ye’s grenade clearance—his refined killing approach in fact proved far less resource-efficient!
Midst battle, Qian Ye briefly threw glances Song’s way. Observing the other even indulging idle thoughts towards personal flair, Qian Ye both irked and slightly tickled—ultimately roaring aloud:
“Beware!!”
This yell of warning utilized even slight portions his “Oceanic Vortex” domain effect. Instant reaction—Zining felt shaken from shoulder down, instantly. Qishao reacted masterfully—perceiving this danger’s coming, his waist twisted while maintaining planted feet below. Flashlike motion—he arched body narrowly missing incoming fist-sized ball of energy magic.
Huge explosive magnitude—obvious without detonation itself, that direct hit might wound badly.
Original sniper had been located just several hundred meters from the wall. Yet instantly—after launching attack—this hidden operative melted back into dark mass surrounding walls. Mastery indeed!
And yet it made Qian Ye slightly exasperated at Song Zining still standing like a mannequin—literally posing as live target for these riflemen. Happily Song decided instantly to action—plucking off ceremonial white coat to reveal tactical armor underneath in preparation, then tossing aside that decorative folding device entirely. Finally diving into crowd among defending warriors—vanished effectively like mist.
That hidden sniper killer, most at least holding baron titles—heavy firepower had cost him much indeed: even against high-ranked officers his shot had cost heavily to use. Now in crowds, this sniper would fear accidentally hitting fellow soldiers, rendering continued fire impossible.
Qian was secretly amazed at this assassin’s own naiveté. Eventually within seven-verse control, he’d discover and isolate the infiltrator inevitably. Why hesitate now? Postponing further—future openings diminished. Unless remaining perpetually outside the city walls—never daring to breach too far inward. Yet Qian knew well this dark race—inter-fighting over glory and rank even eclipsed what existed in Empire command. Could such a soldier control himself indefinitely?
Deciding—Qian Ye resolved aiding Song Zining one more. With flicking hands—he hurled an explosive-laden crate toward that sector where his comrade stood—the explosion wave clearing space through twenty meters’ distance radius. Exposing few dark elite fighters still concealed in fogging aftermath.
Eager to capitalize—”Qishao” immediately made appearance, leaping forth while both hands swayed effortlessly. Leaf shaped throwing blades—whizzing past soundlessly before slicing open all throats within reach!
Yet, in enemy ranks suddenly echoed howls—a second followed by horn blasts—assault momentum drastically, dramatically altered its course in an instant. An overwhelming flood tide of warriors surged directly forward onto sections protected solely by Qian Ye and Song Zi Ning—snipers hidden earlier ceased restraint, firing off precise volleys at two of their key adversaries. From skies approached a number of low-flying storm craft adding yet more pressure on already thin air-defences.
This coordinated surge transformed tide in one single overwhelming offensive push—both found suddenly completely without opportunities between incoming salvos—fighting furiously to survive this new maelstrom.
Song Zining could no longer hoard magic power—expanding every corner of his domain outward—an absolute forbidden battlefield of a hundred meters now stretched before him. Yet wave upon wave the dark charged blindly into it—no longer hesitating in a single second.
Hundreds upon hundreds of enemy forces already packed into it. His magic effect could only contain enemies inside. It couldn’t actually kill them.
Song cried out inwardly with panic! While still seeking recovery from prior containment effort—darkness erupted in violent backlash below. Several black-origin energies surged—domain forces struck against Song’s magic barrier—blending violently together—instantaneously merging together and—BOOM—an explosion of magical maelstrom erupted outward.
Song’s magic effect resisted as briefly as frail paper. His domain barrier broke down, scattering—power destroyed instantly—Song’s complexion blanched. A heavy wound formed immediately—a sharp mouthful of crimson erupts violently onto lips before his knees nearly collapsed backward weakly from sheer shock.
Outside the city—dark forces similarly fell in sprawling ruin—casualties ran rampant from magical cyclones of chaos. Several vampire barons found themselves yanked backward from front—coalescing their effort to crush the protective magic barrier—but in turn suffered grievously worse damage than originally thought—they had no choice except retreat for now completely disabled within body and magic both.
Yet even so—the darkness clan retained overwhelming resource numbers far exceeding any human forces available.
Lost only a few subordinals?
They could replenish ten times with equal class replacements—why fear such brutal attrition!
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