The moment those words were spoken, the stronghold erupted into chaos.
One-Eyed Dragon instinctively raised his hand, about to shout for everyone to hurry back into the underground burrow.
They had long witnessed the Evil Spirit's strangeness and danger. Whenever they encountered it before, they had always kept far away, never daring to confront it head-on.
But just as he raised his hand, his gaze fell upon the cart piled high with weapons and supplies. The cowardice in his eyes instantly faded somewhat, replaced by ferocity and greed.
"What are you panicking for?! This time, we have plenty of weapons and equipment—all hard-hitting stuff! Are we supposed to fear a single Evil Spirit?!"
"Get over here, all of you! Equip your weapons and prepare for battle!"
"We've been miserable for so many days, chased around by that Evil Spirit like dogs with nowhere to go. This time, we'll make that bastard see some color and let it know how formidable the Forty Thieves are!"
After One-Eyed Dragon finished speaking, the thieves around him were still somewhat hesitant. But as they looked at the brand-new weapons on the cart and were stirred by their leader's momentum, they ultimately stepped forward one after another and took equipment from the cart.
The overwhelming majority chose bows and arrows.
The Forty Thieves had the most scouts, and every one of them was skilled with a bow. Even One-Eyed Dragon himself casually picked up a longbow, his fingers stroking the cold bowstring, his eyes filled with ruthlessness.
Once they had their weapons, One-Eyed Dragon ordered everyone to scatter, find positions, and conceal themselves. Once the Evil Spirit arrived, they would send it Return Home with a rain of arrows.
The Forty Thieves truly deserved to be called elite soldiers whom even the Church found difficult