Just as Ice Storm had expected, Ye Zi did not cut himself even once.
He steadily covered fifty arm-lengths, accurately throwing the rock into the designated area outside the track—just over the line, without wasting the slightest bit of strength by throwing it even half an arm-length farther.
Ahead lay a fishing net studded with blades.
It stretched across the track at a height of roughly half an arm-length.
Countless sharp blades hung down from it. One had to crawl forward carefully to make it through.
For a slender Agility-type warrior like Ye Zi, this was his strong suit.
Yet he still did not go all out. He crawled at an unhurried pace, meticulous in every movement, ensuring that not a single blade or fishhook caught his flesh.
He did not appear particularly fast.
But since he had not become entangled with the other burly Ratfolk, by the time he crawled through the bladed fishing net, he had already reached the rear of the leading group.
The leading group consisted of fourteen or fifteen of the strongest Ratfolk.
They packed the entire track, eyeing one another like tigers while remaining highly vigilant toward the pursuers behind them.
Anyone who tried to overtake them would inevitably be hammered mercilessly by elbows as hard as warhammers.
Ye Zi had no intention whatsoever of taking the lead.
He simply trailed behind the leading group at an unhurried pace, maintaining a distance of three to five arm-lengths.
Ahead was a formation of sandbags.
Several hundred sandbags filled with iron sand were wrapped in Totem Beast hide, with huge steel spikes embedded in the leather.
Like inverted Wolf Fang Clubs hanging from above, they blocked the entire track.
To pass through the sandbag formation, one had to shove aside the club-like sandbags and force open