Bloody Battle (1)

The troop began their advance toward the village.

The soldiers crossed the fortifications, their faces filled with excitement.

Suleiman could not help but shake his head; these soldiers shared the same mindset as Roslyn before them.

They believed they should have launched an offensive against the Burned Men Wildlings long ago.

It was as if they truly thought they could just walk in, take the money, and get rich.

Suleiman did not know if this was good or bad, but if the strategic situation had not been so critical, he might have employed a turtle strategy for half a month, waiting for the Wildlings to fall ill until they collapsed.

Suleiman walked between the two phalanxes, watching Lushen and Roslyn follow closely by his side.

He was very dissatisfied: "Lushen! Roslyn!"

"What are you two doing!"

The two seemed not to grasp Suleiman's meaning, crowding even closer, one on the left and one on the right, guarding him vigilantly.

"What are you doing!" Suleiman frowned. "Get back to your units! Stand with your soldiers! Walk in the front ranks of your formations!"

"At a time like this! You are not my bodyguards! You are the officers of my army!"

"The soldiers need to see their officers beside them! Do you understand!"

Lushen did not speak, casting a heavy look at Suleiman before saluting and turning to walk toward the squad he was responsible for.

Roslyn had no choice but to salute Suleiman as well, following him to reorganize the other squad.

In the age of cold steel, the most important thing was for soldiers to be able to see their officers.

To hear their officers' voices and know that their officers were living and dying alongside them.

The troop advanced at a slow pace, every step taken with caution.

The air in the village was filled with the stench of charcoal and rotting corpses, nauseating to the senses.

The soldiers seemed to finally awaken from their excited, dreamlike state, gripping their weapons tightly.

As they walked, everything within sight was nothing but broken walls and ruined remains.

Charred wooden beams, collapsed earthen walls, and rubble scattered across the ground.

A dozen villagers' corpses, so decomposed that it was impossible to tell if they were men or women, lay on the ground in mangled states.

There was silence, save for the sound of flies circling above the bodies.

"Stay alert!" "Hold your weapons tight!" Lushen shouted in a low voice, his phalanx leading the way.

Though he felt such reminders were somewhat redundant.

In an environment like this, even the dullest person would have their nerves stretched thin.

The further they moved toward the center of the village, the more severe the signs of destruction became.

Everywhere were broken walls and ruins scorched by fire.

Clearly, the Burned Men Wildlings of the Mountain Clans had carried out a thorough looting and massacre here.

This village had been completely destroyed.

As they neared the relatively intact farmstead in the deepest part of the village, a sudden change occurred!

"Ah----!" A shrill scream erupted from the front of the troop.

A soldier walking at the very front stumbled and fell, a throwing axe embedded in his head.

Lushen, standing at the very front, reacted instantly.

He roared, "Enemy attack!" "Hold the line!"

Immediately following, more wooden spears were thrown from behind the ruined houses of the farmstead; although their lethality was poor, they caused a wave of chaos in the front ranks.

Suleiman could feel the weakness of the Burned Men Wildlings inside; otherwise, they would never have responded in such a manner.

He quickly ordered: "Roslyn's squad, do not move!"

He then drew his Myr Sword, the blade flashing with a momentary silver chill in the surrounding environment.

"Lushen! Lead your squad! Charge in! Kill them!"

Lushen faithfully executed the orders of Lord Suleiman, even if it meant facing a mountain of blades or a sea of fire.

Without a single word, he simply shouted, "Follow me!"

He drew his longsword and charged in at the lead.

Seeing Lushen so valiant, the soldiers of his squad quickly followed.

Charge into the Barn!

Suleiman was somewhat surprised by the combat effectiveness of the Burned Men Wildlings.

The sound of clashing blades rang out from within the Barn, accompanied by the furious roars of the Burned Men and the battle cries of Suleiman's soldiers.

He saw the Wildlings inside, even though many were already weak beyond measure.

Their wounds were a sickly color due to infection, and some even bore festering, putrid sores that emitted a foul stench.

Every movement they made likely brought them piercing, agonizing pain.

By all logic, they should have already lost their ability to fight, waiting only to be captured or to die.

Suleiman felt a twinge of regret that he had not been cautious enough.

Suleiman looked at Roslyn and pointed his finger in a specific direction.

Roslyn did not understand the meaning, but he resolutely executed the order of Master Suleiman, leading his men to quickly form a line facing the direction Suleiman had indicated.

Seven men were lying in ambush within the ruins on the flank, not to escape, but to kill him.

They had used their Wildling companions inside the Barn to draw the majority of the attention, intending for an elite squad to seize the opportunity to behead the commander of this Flatlander army—himself!

Then, they would join their clansmen in a glorious death in battle!

Suleiman sneered in his heart.

Clearly, these seven Wildlings responsible for the surprise attack had not anticipated one thing.

That was the fact that his senses, far exceeding those of an ordinary man, had taken in every anomaly in the village from the very beginning.

Seeing that they had been discovered, Walker, Son of Nego, and the seven Warriors threw off the broken walls and debris they had used for concealment.

They had never intended to flee; they would not flee, for they would return to the high mountains alongside the souls of their clansmen.

"Walker, Son of Nego, will not hide! Walker, Son of Nego, will not flee!"

"We are the Mountain Wolves!"

"Clansmen! Kill that Flatlander!"

They no longer feared death; they only wanted to drag Suleiman, who had tormented their people, into hell with them.

Carrying endless rage and hatred!

Like arrows released from a bowstring, they charged forward rapidly!

Their goal was singular and exceptionally clear—it was Suleiman!

However, what Walker, Son of Nego, never expected was that as he lunged toward Suleiman with a savage gaze, wielding his battle-axe, what greeted them was not fear, but the figures of Flatlander Warriors rushing forward like a tidal wave!

There was not a hint of flinching in the eyes of the Flatlander Warriors; instead, they shone with an unprecedented, burning, and eager light.

Like hounds tracking prey, like sharks catching the scent of blood, they stared at him intensely!

Walker, Son of Nego, charged at the forefront, swinging his terrifying battle-axe to cut down one Flatlander soldier and force back another.

Yet, a deep sense of confusion and strangeness welled up in his heart; why were these Flatlanders different from the ones he had encountered before?

Why were they so fearless, not even afraid of death?

Who on earth were these Flatlanders!

What he did not know was that upon his person, upon his very body, hung a sky-high bounty capable of changing the fate of any low-ranking soldier.

In the eyes of these Flatlanders, he was no longer a terrifying enemy, but a walking, massive fortune that could alter their destinies!

These soldiers did not care about the strength of their opponent; they saw only a moving beauty, a mountain of gold, a life completely different from the one they had known!

There was only one thought in the soldiers' hearts! And only one!

"Kill him! Get his body!"

"Kill him! Get his body!"

"Kill him! Get his body!"