Those warning traps the Xiongnu had so carefully arranged were as good as nonexistent in the eyes of the Blood-Clad Army.
The fine threads tangled among the grass were spotted at a glance by the soldiers; with a light flick of their fingertips, they passed over them, or simply leapt across.
As for the spike pits hidden in the undergrowth, a mere look at the traces in the soil was enough to identify them with ease.
Even the seemingly concealed crossbow traps were quietly avoided as they followed the faint signs of tugging.
To the Blood-Clad Army soldiers, these traps laid by the Xiongnu were far too crude—like children's toys, obvious at a glance and utterly devoid of technical skill.
More often than not, all they needed was one sweep of their eyes to spot the flaws in a trap.
They could even casually alter the original traps and add mechanisms, making them more dangerous and difficult to detect, more intricate and vicious. Without a sound, they turned those traps into killing moves for their own side, waiting for the Xiongnu soldiers behind them to walk straight into the net.
The squad of Xiongnu soldiers laying the traps was still chatting animatedly, utterly unaware that death was drawing near.
One Xiongnu soldier who was bent over digging a pit casually raised his head to wipe the sweat from his brow. His gaze happened to sweep over the companion beside him, and his eyes instantly widened, his pupils contracting as disbelief filled his face.
He saw clearly that behind his companion, a burly, asura-like figure had silently emerged.
Clad in dark red armor, with a cold, stern face, he held a short blade that gleamed with chilling light. His eyes were as icy as winter snow.
The Xiongnu soldier was completely