One-Sided Battle

All twenty Hobgoblin warriors had been scattered to serve as overseers, so Halson's orders could barely be carried out.

The two sides began a silent standoff. A faint smile appeared on Halson's bluish-gray face; he already felt victory was within his grasp.

Outsiders could not possess the same confidence and intelligence as the natives of the wasteland. Once it became a contest of patience, they would always be the first to lose their nerve.

The humans had formed their wagons into a defensive circle, a tactic they often used against attacks. Fortunately, they had Ogres. Clumsy but immensely destructive, they were like the siege engines of legend. There was nothing to worry about.

The Gnolls had also said these humans seemed unusually strong. Hobgoblins had poor eyesight, so Halson had not seen them personally. Still, he said individual strength was utterly unimportant in group combat; discipline was what mattered.

The worried Gnoll leader was immediately captivated by the phrase "group combat." It sounded so wise and elegant. He swore to add it to his daily vocabulary, repeating it over and over until he quickly forgot the trivial intelligence that the enemy was somewhat stronger.

The standoff continued for a while. Halson vaguely saw a human climb onto a wagon, standing atop a high pile of cargo in a throwing stance.

He held his thumb up before his eyes and alternately closed each eye to gauge the distance. He concluded that the two sides were roughly a hundred and fifty paces apart.

Were they insane? What threat could a throw pose at this distance?

Richard stood atop the wagon and accepted the throwing spear Gunther handed him, weighing it twice in his hand.

He aimed at the largest Ogre, drawing back and twisting his shoulders to gather strength. His arms, waist, legs, and muscles coiled into a single cord as he violently turned and hurled the spear.

Its power was beyond question. Gunther swore he had never seen such a terrifying throwing spear in his life.

The explosive crack of it tearing through the air reminded him of a time long, long ago, when not a single drop of rain had fallen throughout an entire rainy season on the snowfields. Under the elders' guidance, his people had prayed day and night for the gods' mercy, until at last, on a night of dim starlight, they heard a muffled clap of thunder.

Even a mammoth would not be able to withstand that spear!

The spear's path was nearly impossible to follow with the naked eye. In the blink of an eye, it crossed a hundred and fifty paces, but the result was plain to see—the only Hobgoblin wielding a two-handed greatsword was sent flying backward without warning. He lay motionless on the ground as bright-red blood sprayed from his chest!

Gunther was utterly convinced. From a hundred and fifty paces away, without even a test throw, Richard had dropped a Goblin with his first shot. Such a performance could only be described as monstrous!

The title of Snow Bear Hunter was nothing worth mentioning to the chief! Let alone one snow bear—even if a whole company of snow bears charged him, they would be picked off one by one by spears like that.

Richard frowned deeply as he looked at the Ogre he had aimed for. It was completely unharmed. As for why his throw had missed by nearly ten feet and killed an unlucky Goblin instead, he did not know either.

In his years drifting through the Southern Province, he had spent all his time in fighting arenas. With the system's help, his swordsmanship and spear techniques had reached the level of a grandmaster. But he had never touched martial arts like archery and throwing, which were useless in arena fights. He was a complete novice at them.

A faint warm current flowed from his chest, traveling through his blood vessels and meridians before swiftly spreading throughout his body.

A line of dark-blue text appeared in the lower-left corner of his vision.

Experience Points +20

Compared to the amount required for him to level up now, the Experience Points granted by a Hobgoblin were negligible. But just as a single straw could break a camel's back, twenty Experience Points could sometimes be the final push before a chain reaction.

Several more eye-catching and important lines of dark-red text appeared.

Level increased to 35

Attribute Points +2

Skill Points +2

Weapon Proficiency +10

Richard had no time to pay attention to the notifications. Gunther had already thrown the second spear.

He knew he did not possess that kind of miraculous skill, so he aimed at the largest and easiest-to-hit Ogre. After leaving his hand, the spear traced a high arc through the air before descending accurately onto an Ogre's head.

The spear, having exhausted its force, could not penetrate the thick skull and inflict a fatal injury. But the intense pain it caused was enough to send the Ogre's simple mind into a complete rage!

"Roar!"

With a piercing bellow, all three Ogres rose and began to run. The ground beneath them shook with every step. The Hobgoblin overseers tried to stop them, but after one was trampled to death alive, the scene became even more chaotic and uncontrollable.

The naturally disorderly Gnolls then began following the Ogres, howling as they charged forward in a disorganized mob.

Perhaps they believed their side held an overwhelming numerical advantage and had massive Ogres to help them. The Gnolls fell into chaos from the very start. Wild with excitement, they threw their earlier plan to the back of their minds and paid no attention at all to the pitifully few overseers.

The Hobgoblins completely abandoned their futile attempts to enforce discipline and gathered on their own into two thin ranks of spearmen. Though their weapons were merely crude sticks, charred and sharpened to points, they were undeniably the group that looked most like a regular army.

"Aim for the Gnolls! Throw all the spears, then charge!"

Richard gave a simple, brutal battlefield order, then picked up another throwing spear and stared fixedly at the rapidly approaching Ogres.

He knew his aim was poor, so he patiently waited until the target came within twenty paces before drawing back his arm, twisting his body, and throwing the spear.

At that distance, they were practically face-to-face. Missing was almost impossible.

The spear struck an Ogre squarely in the face, nearly burying itself to the shaft—though it was not the one Richard had aimed at. No matter how strong an Ogre's recovery abilities were, it could not endure such an injury. It struggled twice on the ground before losing all signs of life.

Experience Points +50

Throwing Weapon Proficiency +1

The death of their companion swiftly jolted the other two Ogres awake from their rage. Their cowardly nature took over again, and they whimpered as they lay on the ground, scooping dirt over their faces.

The barbarians had already thrown two volleys. Their vicious, precise throwing spears fell like rain, cutting the Gnolls' numbers nearly in half on the spot. In the close-quarters clash that followed, barbarian warriors in leather armor and wielding steel spears vividly demonstrated what it meant to crush an opponent through superior equipment when facing wasteland bandits dressed like beggars.

A sharp spearpoint touching flesh produced a bloody mess, while wooden clubs and broken iron scraps were almost useless against leather armor.

The Gnolls, brave but helpless, fell rapidly. The fluids spilling from their bodies dyed the earth patches of vivid red, like roses blooming!

Long years of hunting had made the barbarians highly skilled at slaughter. Their opponents were like sheep with no ability to resist, walking one after another beneath the butcher's blade.

They were defeated so quickly that most Gnolls had lost their lives before they even understood what was happening. Along with their blood, their courage flowed away. The surviving Gnolls were completely terrified by this killing efficiency and immediately scattered in every direction, fleeing even faster than they had arrived.