At dusk, the north wind howled as the Manto Tribe's party slowly moved north. The cattle and sheep let out low bleats, and the rye on their shoulders swayed faintly. Though their steps remained steady, everyone's thoughts still lingered on the battle just now.
A young Northern Barbarian walked up beside Yaob. After hesitating for a moment, he could not help asking in a low voice:
"Yaob, were you no match for that imperial man?"
His name was Duman, a young warrior of the Manto Tribe. He had distinguished himself in several clashes with the Empire's border troops and held Yaob in deep admiration.
Hearing this, Yaob fell silent for a moment. He tightened his grip on the Obsidian Battle Axe in his hand, fragments from Ang's shield still clinging to its blade. He took a deep breath, gazed at the setting sun on the horizon, and finally said softly:
"Duman, at most, I could only fight him to a draw..."
Duman froze slightly, disbelief appearing on his face. "How is that possible? Yaob, you're the strongest warrior in our tribe! And besides..."
Yaob waved his hand and continued in a low voice:
"Besides, didn't you notice? He never used a weapon the entire time."
Duman was stunned as he recalled the battle. It was true. From beginning to end, that imperial warrior had relied on nothing but a shield to stand against Yaob's Obsidian Battle Axe!
Yaob's gaze was profound, his tone carrying a trace of gravity.
"You saw the spear he carried last time. It was an extremely powerful weapon, enough to pierce the scales of a Level 4 Magical Beast. This time, he didn't even use that spear. With only a shield, he blocked my full-force strike."
Duman's eyes widened. "How could that be... We all know