“Did you exert a bit much force?” asked Wei Bai Nian with doubt in his tone. He had seen Qian Ye spar with his guards using common martial techniques which, under Qian Ye’s hands, seemed comparable to noble martial arts. It was unimaginable that someone like him would struggle to control strength. Yet he immediately realized, surveying up and down Qian Ye’s posture, and said, “You haven’t ranked up; yet your strength unexpectedly enhanced significantly?”
“It seems so,” Qian Ye nodded. Feeling an odd and annoying discomfort—tinged with soreness and an ant-crawling itchiness—in his right leg, he instinctively attempted to wriggle slightly. Then “Crack!” The floor beneath his foot cracked apart, leaving a gaping hole.
Reacting swiftly, a yellowish glow of primordial energy protruding from Wei Bai Nian’s hand extended to stabilize Qian Ye, or else under Qian Ye’s unsteady movements, the room might be irreparably ruined pretty soon.
Staring at his own palm, an unusual expression appeared on Wei’s face.”How significantly did your strength grow?” His external manifestation of power resembled a tangible force—providing clear feedback on Qian Ye’s newly-enhanced might—whose growth curve had become astonishing.
Of course, Qian Ye himself possessed no definite answer; this change stemmed from the newly-awakened dark gold blood energy residing inside him. After seizing the Eye-Technique rune entirely, Qian Ye immediately felt another bodily enhancement cycle initiating—a continuous and ongoing process at the moment.
Observing the perplexed innocence upon Qian Ye’s face, Wei cracked a grin. “It’s a good problem overall.” Generally, physical upgrades only visibly showed during promotion for someone at the Combatant level. Only prodigiously-inclined or possessors of exclusive cultivation methods might gain such chances one or two fold per level’s increase. Since Qian Ye’s Celestial Dawn天赋 consistently towered over peers in his bracket, such a benefit wasn’t surprising per say—but urged him to hasten adaptational practices swiftly for acclimatizing to these enhancements.
“Off you go, as I reckon the next campaign shall spark within two or three days,” continued Wei after thought. “Moreover, bring necessary aide soldiers into that battlefield this time.”
A fraction misstep on the warfare theatre could separate the thread between life and death. Every skirmish left zero margin for clumsy slips; if Qian Ye failed adjusting to the newfound might speedily, it could actually render the situation quite perilous.
Acknowledging, Qian Ye responded obediently while grasping Wei’s elder mentorship concern. Nonetheless, in Huangquan Sheng’s philosophy—battle nourished battle strength. Nothing compared with genuine confrontation for expedient gains.
This small prelude of event passed like fleeting clouds. By the third day, hundreds belonging to dark-aligned armies appeared outside Mire-town, bereft again of foot soldiers—only regular troops.
Having just endured the last battle, the outer defenses of Mire-town turned into complete ruins. Half the township structures collapsed from battle damages. Despite rushed reconstruction over these passed days, merely surface-level appearances were retained effectively.
For illustration: previously present town entrance and towers, long reduced completely flat during the intense showdown between Brahms and Wei, were now substituted through hastily built sharpened pickets erected upon rubble patches merely as defensive substitutes. Likewise, portions of the perimeter wall remained broken, with entire parts entirely collapsed — only rudimentarily refilled utilizing unshaped lumber blocking the gaps.
Hence as Sodor Soulreaver emerged from nearby swamp, the town looked utterly shattered and in tattered conditions—inferior even compared among large human settlements. To those glowing crimson eyes of a werewolf nearly standing at full three meter frame, covered completely in ashen pelts, those defensive positions hardly merited as fortified bastion. Term such barricades—perhaps would sound excessively polite.
A lycanthrope Major galloped closer, saluted Sodor sharply, and delivered: “Confirmed enemy garrison guarding the village ahead are genuine Expeditionary Armed Forces bearing correct insignia markings. Moreover the area carries heavy scent of blood— unmistakably attributable from Viscount Brahms along his subordinate squads.”
Sodor snorted dismissively with contempt.”So that witless fool, Brahms, indeed encountered annihilation?”
“Makes sense so. My Lord General Sodor, shall we delay awaiting reinforcement?”
He huffed yet another derisive snarl, stating frostily: “Wait? No new command orders sent post information relays, despite our dispatched reports. Even our assigned conjunction command—a powerful Monroe bloodsire baron, whom we must honor promptly by schedule; the consequence is well within our understanding. Shall I inform of being stalled here at the backwater’s edge…due to the mere mess?”
The Officer instinctively bowed, aware tensions often brewed despite common campaigns between these weredogs and noble kindred clans. Yet this wasn’t usual; a Monroe held unique status both among thirteen Kindred great lines as well as entire Darkworld.
“Brahms, despite being slightly subpar in his mind’s agility, was a proven force— I myself lack confidence at defeating him for sure. This region merely holds up as third-tier defense of Expeditionary one-division stronghold. At most containing singular command-grade elites — if indeed that’s how, then how he died… surely must’ve cost the enemy dearly in kind? Likely they’re bluffing.”
Upon finishing, suddenly throwing back his head, Sodor gave rise to an elongated ululating howl into air!
Converging outward emerged reddish dark undulations from his stance. All surrounding werewolves raised their fur and glowed ominous crimson warlike auras on physical outlines.
Following this battle-banshee cry’s fade, one more wolf-chorus followed: a total advance’s battle signal!
Hundreds of werewolves let fly haunting wails, before diving forward at lightning speeds, dashing toward devastated Mire Town. The entire expanse measured mere a distance of multiple hectometers, instantly bridged through these beasts’ blurring pace!
Outward from galloping ranks, unexpectedly erupted firey orbs of illumination as thudding cannons reverberated airwards above their charge. Over ten werewolves immediately flung skyward—catapult backwards mid-leap, limbs mangled—twice unluckily took cannon directly, erupting into geysering sprays of blood-limb fragments!
But comparing mere numbers—a fraction lost amidst total numbers—it amounted as trivial casualty! Their charges accelerated further still. The werelords among them diverted their attention from battlefront to sky, intercepting artillery barrages overhead.
Then came salvo round two. Most rounds this go were struck midflight, intercepted and detonated aerially by the senior lycanthropes. Only three projectiles landed on target, managing to claim or wound a couple beastmen—marking heavy artillery’s final tally!
Watching frontline troops reach the town’s gates—finally Sodor moved in too—storming with long strides straight for Mire-town’s heart. This werewolf Warlord had ever found most joy at ripping his victim’s still-pulsing hearts physically with his bare hands straight from their chest!
From amidst the assault ranks suddenly surged a werewolf Captain scaling upon shattered perimeter walls. He slashed his claws wide, brushing all opposing Expeditionary frontline combatants away with forceful blow, literally tossing them aside before bounding inwardly. Taking two swift steps deeper, this captain suddenly paused abruptly. Before him a young man—merely ten meters—emerged from a half-collapsed building beside roadways, fully placing himself blocking forward path directly!
Every single body hair of wolf-captain raised in tension! Even to mankind average criteria, this youth didn’t appear built muscularly; yet those bulky armor pieces worn loosely atop plain martial wear screamed components straight out Spider Demon heavy armor design—a design of superior craftsmanship, while also rare elite gear! Moreover, the battle-hammer hoisted upon one’s shoulder—modeled identically those carried solely by highest Spider-Demon commanders; that weapon, sheer weight would discourage typical Lycanthrope commanders from wielding, generally-speaking.
Intuition screamed of extreme danger, compelling Captain to hastily snatch forth a war-axe from his back; Werewarriors, while bestial in aspect, weren’t beasts in senseless rage—they knew reliance upon tools when life-and-death depended upon such sharp edge!
Wolf Commander barked his low growl before charging full speed at Qian Ye’s stance at once.
Qien Ye’s action, on the contrary, appeared sluggish almost clumsy-looking. Lifting his huge hammer with obvious delay, he simply aimed to bring its crushing descent against charging werewolf’s upper quarters.
As the hammer rose fully upward—then came that piercing scream rising in air—Wolf-Captor simply disbelieved his hearing! That blunt head… should’ve produced nothing more than blunt whoosh; never possible a shrieking, sharp-cutting air-slice tone like that emitted by keen blades! Instinctual impulse urged him into panic, shrieking madly, wielding his mighty axe attempting desperately to block impending doom.
Meanwhile Qian Ye only gave half-attention toward wolf. All through this, strange sensation in his limb joins constantly provoked unbearable soreness minglings itching, alongside with swelling inner energy pressure. Almost instinctual… the urge to unleash and drain it forth felt like physical obligation. With two handed hammer grip, the crimson shimmer-covered weapon struck accurately into wolf-axe block.
The blade—a Level II War-Craft quality hardened weapon in normal situations—felt as if hitting air; the once sturdy steel crumbled instantly into soft bread’s texture at first strike. War axe bent, melted like golden butter before collapse entirely while the heavy hammer continued unabridged downwards unrelenting!
Then… the creature’s skull and upper torso began following similar warping pattern in deformation.
The impact slammed fully into ground—the result was cratered pavement; Werewolf Captain and his former battle tool fused completely into pit’s base—a mixed up heap of flesh alloy.
Even so, Qian Ye surprised slightly. Can sheer might combined with primordial energy achieve such devastating results this drastically?! Through the last three intense sessions focused exclusively on adaptation of this fresh might—he had struggled with maintaining control due constantly ongoing inner bodily modifications.
According to prior experience, this adaptation procedure essentially required total energy drain repeatedly through repeated full-strength strikes—so body memory can register, comprehend current conditions, thus enabling seamless control.
Nothing taught sharper than battlefield itself.
Raising heavily from debris, gripping battle-mallet tightly again, he wandered off seeking subsequent battlefield hot-zones.
A cluster Werewolf warriors furiously engaged several expedition squads—strongest among them, howling mid-strike raised scent-testing head upwards; suddenly its fur flared. Spinning with high alert toward his left—where from a corner emerged an approaching Qian Ye figure at clumsy limping pace…
Yet seeing this, immediately—the attacking wereworm’s previous roar morphed into shrill wimping cry. After several strangled whimpers this creature—completely released enemy soldier, pivoting sharply, sprinted away hastily! Remaining several wolfkin halted briefly mid-combat, turned toward the Qian Ye’s way collectively in unvoiced agreement… then too, breaking line to join fleeing dash altogether!
Perplexed at this sudden shift Qian Ye glanced at his soot-covered, stained-in-battle self—nothing extraordinary noticeable. Battlefield itself naturally exuded heavy iron scent; how unusual would there really be?
Approaching the squad of troops with lingering questions, a sight awaited—suddenly seeing all these warriors drained of color: staring at himself with eyes brimming awe intermingling terror. Indeed one trooper fell straight back with a shoutless backflip… choosing the faint as immediate escape.
“This situation is what exactly about,” Qian Ye couldn’t suppress a scowl in asking. Collapsing on battlefields held absolutely zero excuses in mind for any rationale in this circumstance.
A Captain forced his feet step forwards, trembling yet steeled himself answering weakly, “Lord Qian Ye, unit-commander Captain… we, um, we simply… feel scared, somehow.”
Qian Ye’s eye wrinkled lightly. Immediately after attempted suppression technique in presence, soldiers’ facial expressions somewhat lightened—confirming the source of anomaly originated within himself.
Yet puzzled, such intimidation pressure wasn’t characteristic to his present rank—far from General standard, or anything significantly different in original cultivation presence per his knowledge either.
Qian Ye nodded dismissal. He directed them towards reinforcement duties elsewhere; meanwhile approached closely one nearby Spider Devil.
Ranking seventh level of such dark creatures, the spider-demon actually took two fearful paces backward upon Qian Ye’s nearing arrival, having already sensed its approach and sighted the human before turning.
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