Pan Long fought alone with a blade in each hand, carving his way deeper into the Slavian army's positions.
Around him, ring after ring of Slavia's finest soldiers closed in. Some were Veterans who had served for years and survived countless battles; others were exceptional talents whose starting point was where most people hoped to finish.
Ordinarily, each of these elite soldiers would have served as the core of a squad, a node in a spiderweb that bound the whole army together. Now they had been pulled from the units they led, gathered into a single force, and sent to surround Pan Long.
It was plainly inefficient and bound to cost them dearly, but the Slavian commanders on the front line could no longer worry about that.
Three to five minutes earlier, Pan Long had broken through Slavia's forward line and charged up to a command vehicle. He had dragged out the Major directing the battle inside and killed him with a single slash.
To an army of a hundred thousand, one Major meant little. But in practical terms, his death meant the enemy had punched through the roughly five hundred soldiers under his command.
Worse still, Pan Long was continuing toward Slavia's headquarters.
When he had discussed the matter with Doctor earlier, Doctor had advised him against attempting a decapitation raid just yet. But a general in the field did not have to obey every order from afar. With a chance to strike straight at the dragon's lair and settle everything in one blow, of course he had to try.
After fighting for so long, he was certain the Slavian army had no way to stop him. If the attempt failed, he could turn and flee, and they would never catch him.
If he could not truly lose everything,