The Alien Races Flee in Defeat, the Night Raid Declared a Failure

Bai Zhi's gaze locked onto the black shadow speeding close to the ground. Just as she was about to cry a warning, Chen Wuya had already moved.

Instead of retreating, he stepped forward off the edge of the platform. The Armor-Piercing Awl slammed heavily into the ground, three rapid strikes exploding like drumbeats. Two squads of sword-and-shield fighters sprang out from behind the wooden barricades on either side, their movements as synchronized as one body. They swept in from oblique angles, trapping the black shadow firmly in the middle. In the firelight, several short blades crossed and slashed, blood spraying in brief arcs through the air. Without even a grunt, the shadow toppled to the ground.

Chen Wuya leapt down from the platform, landing in the heart of a melee. An allied soldier had been driven into a corner by two foreign warriors, struggling to fend them off and on the verge of breaking. Without a word, Chen Wuya drove the Armor-Piercing Awl into the ground and slapped the earth with his left hand. A shockwave spread from the awl's tip. The two men's steps faltered for an instant, and Chen Wuya was already among them. He drove an elbow into one man's ribs, then seized his blade and slashed at the other's shoulder and neck. Before the blade even reached him, the man hunched his shoulders from the pain. The edge followed through beneath his collarbone, and he fell at once.

"Move by the rules." He growled, pulling out the Armor-Piercing Awl. He no longer shouted commands, instead using the rhythm of his strikes to guide the formation—three light, two heavy meant lure the enemy deeper; a rapid continuous barrage meant slaughter them at once.

The frontline soldiers gradually understood. No longer relying on verbal orders, they moved solely