Before the leader could figure out what was going on, the deserters came raining down like dumplings dropped into a pot. With several thuds, they landed one after another near Shen Tang's feet, like human sandbags, howling nonstop. Some had only swollen faces and bruises; others had broken bones or concussions.
They'd all been thrown over!
A few had escaped the worst of it and could still barely stand. They looked as if they'd seen something terrifying, forced to stagger backward step by step. That powerful, pure aura of dominance crushed any desire to fight out of them, leaving only trembling legs and bodies shaking like sieves.
The leader's face turned deathly pale. He tried to push himself up with his elbow, but everything hurt, and every attempt ended in failure.
"What happened?"
Zhai Le leapt down from the treetop and came to Shen Tang's side.
Shen Tang raised an eyebrow. "It's been a restless night."
No sooner had one wave settled than another rose.
At her words, Zhai Le turned his gaze toward the darkness.
Clang, clang, clang.
The easy smile faded from Zhai Le's lips, and a rare gravity entered his peach-blossom eyes.
As the person drew closer, the sound grew clearer. He knew it well: the distinctive clatter of armor plates knocking together at the joints. The newcomer's steps were steady and powerful, their rhythm unhurried and relaxed. They seemed casual, but every step was building momentum, growing stronger with each stride. He had a feeling that once the newcomer had built up enough force, he wouldn't be able to stop them—even at his very best!
A formidable opponent, without a doubt!
Zhai Le stepped diagonally forward, blocking half of Shen Tang from view. He lowered his voice. "The newcomer is dangerous. If a fight breaks out,