The next day was clear. Not a wisp of cloud marred the blue sky.
As the lizardfolk guides put it, this was a typical "Desert day."
Pan Long and the others left the guides at camp. The seven of them donned full combat gear and headed for the city ruins.
The six agents—whether they counted as professionals or amateurs was hard to say—formed a standard combat formation. Big Horn led with a black shield as tall as a man, ready to block attacks with his shield or even his body. Electricity Snake followed close behind, riot shield in her left hand and pistol in her right. They stood far enough apart to cover both sides.
Three or four paces behind them, Franka followed with a long sword and a short sword. Usually smiling, she now looked grim, her eyes blazing with murderous intent. She was ready for a fight at any moment.
A little farther back, Du Ling walked ahead of Anshir. She carried a short black wooden wand, while he held a short defensive baton. Both looked serious and focused, but one glance made it clear that neither had much fighting power. They could only provide support.
Langier brought up the rear with a large black bow. The elderly lizardman's sharp eyes swept their surroundings. He held an arrow in his left hand, ready to draw and shoot at a moment's notice.
They had clearly trained together. Their spacing was just right: whoever came under attack, the others could rush to help at once.
Seeing them take formation outside the city gave Pan Long a little more confidence.
Perhaps it rose from fifty percent to fifty-one.
It was not that he looked down on them. He simply did not think they could help him much against that huge monster.