Chapter Fifty-Two: Broken Spears on the Battlefield

On the mountain ridge, a troop had gathered here, numbering around a hundred strong. Each man radiated robust vitality, their murderous aura soaring to the heavens.

"Vice Commander, the white eagle suddenly plummeted just now and hasn’t been seen since. We suspect it’s been hunted," a young man leapt over from afar and bowed before the middle-aged leader, reporting in a low voice.

"Hunted, the white eagle?" The middle-aged man gazed into the distance and muttered, "Something happened at the mine again? Is this aimed at us?"

He could hardly be blamed for thinking so. Until recently, they had been training deep in the mountains, but a sudden message arrived concerning trouble at the mine, prompting them to hurry back and oversee operations. They rushed along, nearly arriving, when the white eagle scouting ahead met misfortune—a cause for suspicion.

"If anyone dares to interfere with our affairs, regardless of who they are, they will pay in blood," the middle-aged man snorted coldly, then barked, "Form the Greedy Wolf Formation, stay alert, move!"

He waved his hand and marched at the front. His men shifted into a new formation, ferocity rising, closely following.

Ahead lay a patch of woodland. Just as they were about to pass through, the middle-aged man gestured, and the troop abruptly halted, without a trace of confusion.

"You skulking cur, come out and show yourself!" The middle-aged man shouted fiercely.

Creak… creak…

Ten warriors unstrapped their longbows, drew the strings taut, and aimed at the woods.

Yang Fan stepped out from among the trees.

He hadn’t expected that, even after activating his 'Qi Lock' ability, he would still be discovered.

Gazing at the regimented troop and the overwhelming aura surging toward him, his heart trembled, but he continued forward.

Since he had decided to act, he could not hesitate.

"So, it's just a youngster," the middle-aged man sneered. "Your murderous aura is remarkable, your killing intent thick. So young and already a born killer—perfect for the military. Who sent you? To dare stand in our way takes some nerve."

Was it his killing intent and aura that gave him away?

Yang Fan understood a bit.

The 'Qi Lock' power needed further development.

"Vice Commander Feng Zhenglie, am I correct?" Yang Fan did not halt his stride, advancing steadily.

A hundred meters, fifty, thirty.

The other side did not call for him to stop.

Only when he was ten meters away did he pause.

This distance was perfect—close enough to attack, far enough to retreat.

From Lou Qingshan’s words, Yang Fan knew that the River County Prince had sent a guard force into the mountains, led by one commander and two vice commanders.

Vice Commander Cao Kaijin had already been killed.

If this man was from the River County Prince’s household, he was most likely the other vice commander.

"Correct," Feng Zhenglie nodded, his gaze cold as a blade. "I’ll ask you one last time: who are you?"

His blade was already drawn.

If he knew who Yang Fan was and dared come, he must not be underestimated.

"The one who will kill you!" Yang Fan shouted, unleashing his 'Intimidation' power. Invisible waves swept out, striking at the heart and shaking the will.

Buzz…

Feng Zhenglie shuddered, his whole body trembling, but steadied himself almost instantly.

The shock in his eyes as he looked at Yang Fan was unmistakable.

Behind him, the warriors wavered, several nearly collapsing. Yet their formation erupted in a dense, overwhelming aura, resisting the force of intimidation.

"This…"

He had been blocked.

Yang Fan’s pupils narrowed. Faintly, it seemed a giant wolf appeared above the troop, enveloping them.

Suddenly, he recalled the wolf pack he had encountered at the foot of Misty Mountain, where his intimidation had also been thwarted.

"Group strength?"

"They seem to have formed a battle array, merging their killing aura into one!"

Yang Fan’s thoughts spun rapidly, and he speculated.

He also realized trouble lay ahead.

Real trouble.

His greatest reliance in hunting an elite troop had been his 'Intimidation' ability, now negated, reducing his combat strength by more than half.

He would also face encirclement.

But retreat was not an option.

"Earth Spikes!"

Catch the leader first. Yang Fan targeted Feng Zhenglie.

He activated his power; the earth surged, instantly forming a sharp spike that shot straight upward.

Feng Zhenglie sensed unease. Noticing movement below, he leapt forward, but was half a beat too slow.

A tear opened beneath him.

"What kind of ability is this?" Feng Zhenglie was horrified, but before he could steady himself, he felt the ground soften beneath his feet, and he sank in.

It was the Earth Flow ability—softening the soil and forming a pit around him, one of Yang Fan’s most versatile powers.

"Die!"

Yang Fan was already at his side, the Dragon Scale Blade drawn, swinging down with the force to split a mountain, aiming for his head.

Ferocious and ruthless.

Fast as lightning.

The whistling wind carried a sense of finality.

Feng Zhenglie’s face turned pale, disbelief overwhelming him.

One strange power would be enough, but now, one after another, unimaginable abilities appeared. Yet his reaction was swift; his blade came up to block.

Rip…

His blade was effortlessly severed. His pupils contracted, but before he could adapt, the Dragon Scale Blade cleaved through his skull.

All happened in a flash. Though the 'Intimidation' had not worked well, it had nonetheless shaken the warriors.

Before they could react, Feng Zhenglie was dead.

"This is a demon, gifted with demonic arts! Groups of five—kill him!" One man in the troop, shocked by what he saw, quickly shouted orders.

The troop charged, five per squad, forming a joint assault formation.

Archers released their arrows simultaneously.

"Swift Step!"

Yang Fan dodged the arrows, moved to the flank, and swung the Dragon Scale Blade at the nearest foe. Their response was quicker than he had expected.

As his blade fell, the others instinctively countered.

The left aimed for his neck, the right slashed at his legs.

The one facing him tilted his head and met the attack head-on, eyes cold and merciless.

Yang Fan shivered inwardly, his blade moving faster, cleaving the man before him from shoulder to waist.

He stepped back, dodged attacks, and unleashed his blade technique, slaying the other four.

Ultimately, the gap was too great.

His reaction and speed far exceeded these warriors.

But now, the others closed in.

"Once surrounded…"

Yang Fan licked his dry lips, once again activating 'Intimidation,' but the effect was even weaker, only causing them to momentarily pause.

"Earth Flow!"

The ground on the left turned to soft mud, destabilizing the charging warriors and disrupting their formation.

Yang Fan rushed in, his Dragon Scale Blade transforming into a curtain of death; wherever it passed, blood rained.

"Hold the formation! Archers, fire!" The previous commander barked orders.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh…

A storm of arrows fell, blocking Yang Fan's retreat.

His blade danced, impenetrable, blocking the onslaught.

He was about to withdraw to avoid encirclement when the commander raised his hand, sending forth a crimson streak. Before it reached him, it suddenly expanded into a giant python, its maw gaping and lunging for his head.

The stench of blood filled the air.

The other warriors were unfazed, instead coordinating their assault.

Yang Fan's brow twitched violently.

He had thought that with his abilities he could easily slaughter them, but now found himself in a dilemma.

Thoughts whirled; his expression hardened, ruthless resolve flashing in his eyes.