Often, even when you knew what the enemy would do, there was nothing you could do to change it.
Say an army of five hundred thousand came charging at you, while you had only eight hundred soldiers who had yet to finish their training. What could you do then?
Die with dignity or shame yourself by kneeling in surrender. Those were your only choices.
Of course, there were rare, almost divine warriors who could tuck a bow under one arm, wield a spear in the other, and charge straight through the enemy ranks. They would fight until they were covered in wounds, then lead eight hundred brave men to throw an army of hundreds of thousands into chaos and rout it. But those were exceptions. Normally, they weren't worth considering.
What Pan Long faced now was the normal situation.
He knew his enemies would surround and attack him, but he truly couldn't withstand their assault.
Still, he had one last card to play.
A card none of his enemies knew about.
As the Marilith whipped its blades forward, one scimitar stabbing at Pan Long's heart and the other slashing at his neck, white light blazed across his body.
The Marilith vanished in an instant, teleporting directly to the open ground outside the hall.
As everyone knew, many powerful creatures exploded when they died.
A Balor, for example, would unleash an explosion spanning more than thirty meters at death. It would also destroy the weapons in its hands, denying its enemies the most valuable spoils.
Divine emissaries were much the same.
If they could capture and imprison a divine emissary alive, they would reap a rich reward whether they corrupted it through a profane ritual or sacrificed it directly to the Demon Mother. The former would earn them a reward from