Outside Threehill City, corpses littered the ground.
This city built atop a solitary peak stood majestically. Three layers of city walls coiled around the mountain like giant serpents, each battlement flickering with fragmented defensive barrier light.
Without an abyss beast capable of crushing magic arrays to assist, the demons could only rely on tidal waves of cannon fodder troops, using flesh and blood to gradually consume these defensive barriers one by one, advancing slowly and brutally.
Fifteen observed the battlefield situation intently. From the fact that the outer city wall hadn’t completely fallen, this offensive had likely only begun a few days ago.
His gaze swept across the battle lines in all directions, trying to find an area where combat was relatively subdued so he could watch for an opportunity to break through the siege and return to the city.
Then he looked at the Puchi beside him.
For some reason, the Puchi that had been clamoring all along the way to “slaughter left and right” now had drooping tentacles and two short legs sprawled weakly on the ground, listless and practically curling into a ball.
Fifteen took out the telepathy stone and pressed it: “What’s wrong with you? Lacking magic power?”
“I… I’m fine! I’m great right now!” The Puchi tried to stand up as it spoke, but stumbled unsteadily and sat back down.
Watching it like this, Fifteen felt he’d seen similar scenes before… in the recruit camp…
“You couldn’t be seeing this kind of scene for the first time and can’t adapt, right?”
“Nonsense! I love fighting the most!” Number Nine’s restless tentacles twisted together. “It’s just… all the blood on the ground, it’s a bit…”
Fifteen was speechless.
All along the way, Number Nine had constantly boasted about fighting alongside him, making him secretly vigilant that this “mushroom race” might be some kind of bloodthirsty intelligent monster.
Who knew this was what it meant by “loving” it—shouting about killing with its mouth, but actually fainting at the sight of blood?
Seeing Number Nine dispirited, Fifteen rarely allowed it to return to his head, even tying its tentacles under his chin to fix it into a strange Puchi hat.
Fortunately it was rather light and wouldn’t affect Fifteen’s speed too much.
Time was of the essence—Fifteen prepared to break through!
He didn’t plan to wait for this round of attacks to end. Rushing into the city then would be too conspicuous and likely attract strong fighters from the demon camp.
This chaotic battlefield right now was the best opportunity to fish in troubled waters.
Fifteen took Number Nine atop his head and circled to the western side of the battlefield.
The terrain here was especially treacherous, and after modifications even more defensible, so the demons obviously weren’t willing to expend too much force here. Thus the battle situation was relatively calm.
He took out a magic scroll prepared in advance. A faint light flashed, and his form began to twist and transform. His skin became covered in scales, his back slightly hunched. In the blink of an eye he’d disguised himself as a somewhat stooped lizardfolk soldier carrying a shield.
Mixing into scattered demon squads, he lowered his body and slowly moved forward, imitating a lizardfolk’s gait.
However, the demons weren’t incompetent fools either, and disguise using magic scrolls wasn’t as freely controllable as Aidin’s illusion techniques.
Less than halfway through, a demon officer riding a giant rock lizard seemed to notice something amiss.
The demon officer called out to Fifteen and was about to investigate when—
Fifteen struck first violently. Though the vigilant demon raised his blade to block in time, he hadn’t expected Fifteen’s strength to be so great!
The scimitar forged of refined steel broke with a sound. What was cleaved along with it were the officer’s skull and that of his rock lizard mount.
After killing the enemy with one strike, Fifteen didn’t dare pause for a moment. Before most demons could react, his flowing movement technique pushed to the limit, his figure transforming into a flickering phantom amid the chaotic troops.
“Stop him!” After charging out some distance, demon officers from several directions simultaneously roared. In an instant arrows fell like rain, magical radiance condensed in the air, and massive numbers of demon soldiers charged straight at him.
“Chaotic Dance!”
Countless wind pressure slashes burst out with him at the center. Under the dual enhancement of Army Breaker and Demon Slayer, approaching demons were ground into minced meat before they could even scream.
Amid the bloody storm, he continued advancing forward at even greater speed.
However, Fifteen’s luck didn’t seem very good.
The commotion behind attracted the attention of Xenophon, who had just destroyed a defensive barrier.
Xenophon, who’d taken the fall because of the Storm Elemental Lord, had been assigned by the prince under the pretext of redeeming his merits to be responsible for destroying Threehill City’s magic arrays.
This assignment’s credit was indeed significant, but it was equally the most exhausting, painful, and even life-threatening work.
Unfortunately, Xenophon currently had no room to refuse.
After three continuous days of attacks, even with his thick skin, he’d accumulated a heap of minor injuries and was holding in a bellyful of anger.
On the battlefield, the moment he spotted Fifteen from afar, he charged over.
Naturally Fifteen also noticed Xenophon behind him raising a cloud of dust, advancing with great momentum.
In just an instant, Fifteen realized he probably couldn’t run into Threehill City before the other reached him.
Although Xenophon couldn’t last more than a few rounds against the Sword Saint, that was because the Sword Saint was too strong. Fifteen wasn’t arrogant enough to think he could beat a duke.
Should he use the distress signal?
After using it, the city would definitely try to respond to him, but at the same time, this would also become a weak point—one mistake could result in heavy losses.
If it were just Fifteen alone, he probably wouldn’t use the distress signal no matter what.
But at this moment he also bore his master’s life and safety on his shoulders!
Without much time to consider, Fifteen took out the signal device from his chest.
Just then, the Puchi’s mushroom cap atop his head suddenly sprayed out a large mass of spores mixing multiple colors. Fifteen inhaled most of it unprepared and was immediately choked until his eyes reddened.
“Number Nine, you…”
Before the reproachful words could leave his mouth, a burning power suddenly surged through his limbs and body.
His body’s fatigue receded like the tide. His footsteps became unprecedentedly light, and even his sword-gripping hand felt new power pulsing.
Even more wonderfully, while his body was extremely excited, his state of mind was as if sunk into an icy lake—his perception of the battlefield situation became even clearer and more acute.
“You’ve been enhanced, quick… quick…” Number Nine’s mental projection came intermittently.
Blood splashing all around drenched Number Nine, and combined with the violent combat’s jolting, this hemophobic Puchi felt like riding a roller coaster, dizzy and disoriented, unable to even maintain complete thoughts.
But it didn’t need to say anything. Fifteen immediately put away the signal device and rushed toward Threehill City at full power.
This sudden acceleration surprised the pursuing Xenophon. The pigfolk duke roared and violently kicked off with his thick hind legs. His massive body leaped into the air, instantly crossing the battlefield, his spiked club screaming down toward Fifteen’s back.
The heavy strike landed half a step behind him. Flying shattered stones struck Fifteen’s back armor like raindrops. But that half-step difference let Fifteen dodge into a defensive gap the defenders had deliberately opened.
When Xenophon roared and destroyed this barrier, Fifteen’s figure had long since disappeared into the layer upon layer of city defenses.
…
After a day’s offensive, Blood Clan Prince Visarius received the report that Fifteen had broken through the battle line and returned to Threehill City.
As a Sword Saint disciple whose strength reached the temple tier, Fifteen naturally wasn’t some unknown nobody the demons couldn’t recognize.
In fact, Xenophon had recognized that Fifteen was the disciple of the Sword Saint who’d nearly killed him, which was why he’d pursued so desperately.
Blood clan noble Earn under Visarius’s command bowed and reported: “My lord, for the Sword Saint’s disciple to risk entering the city at this time, I’m afraid it’s not as simple as just helping with defense. I suspect he’s found some method of detoxification…”
The prince’s eyes showed little fluctuation: “My blood poison isn’t so easily removed.”
As a trusted confidant, Earn naturally knew this blood poison’s origin.
Every hundred years, the prince lord would embrace a “daughter” as his first progeny, cultivate her with all his power, and on her hundredth birthday feast, consume her in conjunction with a certain ritual.
That special blood poison was one of the ritual’s byproducts.
This was a taboo few knew about even among the blood clan.
If it weren’t for this special blood poison, the Sword Saint who hadn’t been directly killed would probably have fully recovered by now and be bouncing around energetically coming to cut them down while spouting the only two demonic curse words he knew.
But the recent string of incidents forced Earn to steel himself and speak up: “My lord, forgive this subordinate’s loose tongue, but there have been far too many accidents recently!”
Visarius’s gaze suddenly turned cold. The pressure from the bloodline’s source made Earn instantly stiffen.
After a long while, just as Earn’s hands began to tremble, the prince suddenly withdrew his gaze, patted his shoulder, and praised: “Good, daring to speak—you don’t disappoint my regard for you. There have indeed been too many accidents recently. One or two more wouldn’t seem strange. So I’ve already made other arrangements. No need to worry.”
Earn’s shoulders finally relaxed. Since he already knew the prince lord had arranged a contingency, he said no more.
(End of Chapter)
