In the distance, the ship, now engulfed in flames, was slowly making its way toward the shore. Niuniu was flying over, carrying Big Nose. The sight was a bit comical—Big Nose was much larger than Niuniu, making the scene look quite strange. However, for those watching, it made sense. Grass spirits were Level 1 magical beasts, and their strength was comparable to that of an adult human. Therefore, it was normal for Niuniu to carry a Level 1 mole. What was unusual was the unusually harmonious relationship between Niuniu and Big Nose. Normally, magical beasts of different ranks wouldn't get along so easily.
"Not good, look over there!" As Niuniu landed on Ryan's shoulder, she warned. Only Ryan was clean on the ship; everyone else reeked of sweat from the mercenaries' long days of work. Lady Quillin was somewhat better, but it was clear that Niuniu was uncomfortable. Ryan could see that across the riverbank, a massive number of cavalry had appeared. The Quain River was wide, almost as broad as the Yangtze River, and that was during low tide. If it were high tide, the river would be even wider. Every time Ryan thought of the towering waves during high tide, he was excited to imagine seeing them firsthand. But at that moment, what he noticed was the sheer number of riders across the river.
"Brother, we have to run. There must be high-level fighters on the other side," Ryan said, his face serious as he looked at Quillin. "Make sure to bring two priests along; if anything happens on the way, we need them for healing."
Quillin's face turned pale as he immediately called for one of his other bodyguards, giving a quick set of orders. With a signal, two Level 6 swordsmen moved to stand by Alice and Delis, and a Level 7 swordsman took his place beside Ryan. It seemed they were preparing for battle.
"Kill them! Kill them!" The mercenaries on the ship were still in motion when another group of nearly a hundred people charged forward. These newcomers were presumably carrying stones to use for their siege engines, and behind them, a large trebuchet was coming up. The masked individuals, their eyes bloodshot after seeing their comrades fall, charged forward furiously, armed with crossbows. With their addition to the fight, the mercenaries on the ship were overwhelmed.
"Run! If we don't run now, we're dead!" Someone from the riverbank shouted in panic. As soon as the shout was heard, the mercenaries on Ryan's side scattered in all directions. Most of them were low-level mercenaries, but Quillin's two bodyguards knocked out two magical priests and stole them for their own use—priests were key to survival in such a situation.
Ryan and his group of around ten people ran furiously. Behind them, the sounds of fierce fighting could still be heard, and the occasional scream echoed through the air. The swordsmen guiding Ryan pushed on, and as Ryan glanced behind, he saw Holman releasing a magical barrier. Inside it, a few priests, knights, and other mercenaries were trying to hold their ground, but they were too weak.
Mid-tier swordsmen were fast, and within no time, Ryan's group had distanced themselves from the main battle. But since they were on the plains, they could still see the magical lights from the distant fighting. They dashed into a nearby forest to rest for a moment.
Quillin and his 9th-level bodyguard walked aside, with Quillin's face looking increasingly grim. His bodyguard shook his head, but after a few words from Quillin, he took out a bag and handed it to the bodyguard. The bodyguard gave a knightly salute and then rushed back toward the battlefield.
Sighing, Quillin said, "Cort is my father's head bodyguard. He's saved my father twice, and he's like a brother to him—he's also my elder. I can't leave him behind; the Empire will be in turmoil if I do." His eyes held a hint of fear, though.
Ryan looked at him and said, "We should keep moving forward. The battle area is too close. If they're able to set up such a large-scale operation here, they must have connections with the local powers, or they have people watching from the outside. So…"
"Everyone, search carefully! Don't miss anything!" Ryan's words were interrupted by the sound of approaching horse hooves, and then a few voices rang out. Ryan cursed himself inwardly—his worst fear had come true.
"My lord, there are ten light cavalry coming toward us, including a Level 7 swordsman and several Level 6 or 7 warriors. They're all carrying crossbows and are dismounting to search the forest in pairs," reported one of the Level 7 swordsmen who had been guiding Ryan.
"You all go first. I'll catch up with you shortly," Ryan said, seeing Quillin's pale face. He turned to the nearby swordsmen and gave instructions.
Quillin trembled and asked, "What about you?"
Delis looked at him with tearful eyes. Ryan gave a dry laugh. "Don't worry. You know what I'm capable of. I'll use that thing I tested last night to try and draw them in. You guys go quickly."
Ryan's group numbered only eleven. Delis, Alice, Quillin, and the two priests were more of a burden than help in battle. The only fighters were the five swordsmen. The real problem was the enemy's crossbows—these weapons didn't require long training like bows did. They only needed precision and strength to draw the string. The range of a crossbow could exceed 150 meters. If ten of those crossbows fired at once, the group would be lucky if only a few remained alive. The only hope was for the Level 7 swordsman to survive, but everyone else would likely perish.
Quillin was about to say something, but before he could, the Level 7 swordsman knocked him unconscious. The swordsman then gave a knightly salute to Ryan, turned, and carried Quillin away. The remaining swordsmen exchanged glances with Ryan before heading deeper into the forest. Only Delis, tear-streaked, remained, but she too was knocked unconscious by Ryan.
Ryan looked around at the forest. It was more like a tropical rainforest than a simple forest, with tall trees, dense vines, and thick leaves. However, the humidity here wasn't as high. Ryan glanced around, took off his clothes, and disguised himself as an ordinary person. He buried the landmine he had prepared last night nearby. As to whether it would work, Ryan wasn't sure. He then followed Quillin from a distance, as the sounds of the searchers in the forest were drawing closer.
Ryan moved quickly, occasionally checking with Big Nose to get a sense of the direction the searchers were moving. Big Nose's sense of smell was very sharp—after all, he could detect underground mineral veins, which was a characteristic of their species, the Golden Moles. However, Big Nose was still in his juvenile stage and didn't need to consume metals yet.
Klar was the captain of a scout team from a thief guild, a Level 7 swordsman. However, Klar was water-attribute, making him weaker in combat, and he could only lead a small scout team. A thief guild was a group of criminals—swordsmen or mages—who engaged in all sorts of crimes, from arson to looting, always motivated by money and without concern for the people they harmed. This time, five different thief guilds had joined forces. Klar had encountered mostly mid-tier professionals, but the mission paid well—each guild received 500,000 gold coins, with half of it paid upfront. These guilds had sent their elites for this job, with the leaders positioned at the front to face the enemy's higher-level fighters. The rest of the team was tasked with dealing with the smaller enemies.
Klar never imagined that the five guild leaders would be trapped by only two of the enemy's high-level fighters, and worse, someone had charged out from the encirclement. This was the problem with large teams—rivalries between thief guilds were common, so the guilds often operated in smaller groups. The employer had sent three trebuchets and two giant crossbows—serious artillery that could be used to siege small cities. Originally, only 50 people were needed to transport these weapons, but since the guild leaders didn't get along, the task was given to over 100 men. The ship carrying the weapons was supposed to reach a designated position, but while the people at the riverbank saw the ship arriving, the artillery had not yet been delivered. The operators of the trebuchets and crossbows at the riverbank were killed, and without stones, the mission faltered.
Klar had just received the latest news: several people had even entered the forest. He saw the chaotic battle on the shore, where his side had over 100 people, and the enemy only had a few dozen, mostly low-tier fighters. Despite this, the enemy had a light barrier in place, and breaking it would just be a matter of time. He also saw a Level 6 warrior get sliced in half by a wind blade from a wind serpent, prompting Klar to make the decision to follow those who had fled into the forest. At least there would be no stray arrows there, and more importantly, the thief guild was never short on good trackers. It didn't take long before Klar's scouts discovered the traces of someone passing through.
"Boss, they stopped here for a short rest. This means they're likely not very high-level. If they were, they wouldn't rest in such a place. Most likely, they're low-level professionals," said Klar's best tracker, pointing at a broken bush branch on the ground.
"Alright, gather everyone," Klar said, still cautious despite knowing that no strong enemies were ahead. Years of battle experience had taught him that being overly cautious was never a mistake.
With a strange cry, the scattered scouts began to return.
"Boss, the guys on the shore are having a good time. So many women, and there are even priests from the Holy Church. They're all virgins!" one scout commented.
"Yeah, yeah, I heard that some of the women who ran off are also pretty cute. What do you think, boss?" another added.
"Shut up! We've been set up this time. If I had known the Holy Church was on that ship, even the guild leaders wouldn't have dared to touch them. There's something deeper going on here." Klar muttered to himself, his mind racing. He thought of how he and his guild had been hunted by both the Holy Church and merchant guilds. Anyone who worked with such powers knew that messing with them would only lead to death. Ordinary thieves could do whatever they liked with peasants, small merchants, or minor nobles, but once the Church or a merchant guild got involved, it was a death sentence for anyone caught in their grasp. If they didn't resolve this battle by nightfall, it would be all over for them. The guild leaders might be able to escape, but Klar had no intention of sticking around.
The guild leaders already had existing tensions between them, so they weren't fully focused on fighting the enemy, but also had to keep an eye on their own allies. When they saw the Holy Church's presence, they were even more dumbfounded—especially seeing a dozen or more priests. Everyone knew that when a priest dies, they can cast a life magic to summon angels. Although the success rate is low, the possibility of failure isn't worth the risk. If an angel is summoned, it would expose them, so the leaders' plan was to stall.
Another reason for the delay was that when a priest casts the summon angel spell, they can't stop midway, and the spell can't be interrupted. Even if the priest is torn to pieces, the spell will continue, making it a particularly grotesque divine magic. However, the cost is high—the priest must sacrifice their own life and soul. The guild leaders were aware of this, but their subordinates were not. This created a strange situation where the thieves' guild members, at a distance, used crossbows to shoot at the priests, knights, and mercenaries in a tight formation. Those with melee weapons didn't dare approach; the presence of a dozen priests made them cautious. Not to mention, there was even a Level 7 priest among them, which greatly increased the chance of success. If the spell was successful, a four-winged angel could appear, a being with the combat strength equivalent to an 8th-level mage.
But there's more. If the angel's life was threatened, it could open the Sky Gate, a direct passage to the divine realm. When the gate opened, not one, but a whole group of angels could emerge. The time this gate stays open is half an hour. If the gate opens in a barren place, it's possible that no angels would appear in that time, but if a group arrives, the consequences could be catastrophic. This happened 4,000 years ago when the Dark Church and the Orcs attacked the Holy Empire. In just half a month, the Holy Empire lost half of its territory. The Church eventually locked down the summon angel magic, but as the situation became more dire, the higher-ups reluctantly allowed it to be taught to the lower ranks. It wasn't until 400 priests had died in battle that a Level 1 priest succeeded in summoning a two-winged angel. This angel was severely wounded as soon as it appeared, but it used its life to open the Sky Gate. In just half an hour, dozens of six-winged angels and a single eight-winged angel emerged. In that short period, all Level 5 and above professionals in the Dark Empire's territory were killed, and fifty cities were destroyed. The Orcs suffered even worse—50,000 wolf cavalry, 30,000 bear warriors, 200 shaman wizards, and their Beast Emperor all perished. The Dark Empire and the Orcs suffered heavy losses in just half an hour. After the angels returned to the divine realm, the Sky Gate closed, and only a handful of priests and knights survived, brought back to life by the eight-winged angel using the Resurrection spell.
From then on, priests of the Holy Church were not to be trifled with. The knights could be dealt with, but calling upon angels was not something to be taken lightly. After that, the summon angel spell became a required skill for every priest in the Church. Everyone knew this. Had the five leaders been united, they wouldn't have feared a two-winged angel. They could stall it for half an hour, after all, and they didn't believe the angels wouldn't eventually die. But the problem was, these leaders weren't on the same page, and some of them weren't even that reliable—one was a paladin, another a Level 9 two-handed sword fighter, and another was a slippery wind serpent.
"Boss, there's a faint magic signature over there. Looks like someone is trying to ambush us," Klar detected and waved his hand, signaling for crossbow bolts to be fired at the bushes.
"Everyone be careful. We'll close in slowly," Klar said, while gradually stepping back. The crossbow bolts had already revealed the outline of a mage's robe inside the bushes, but Klar remained cautious. Mages were known for their unpredictable abilities.
Klar and his team slowly approached the target, now only a few meters away. These scouts were all seasoned and well-equipped, so they didn't think much of a single mage. The mage's robe had already been pierced by crossbow bolts, but still, they were cautious.
"Boom." Klar had just taken two steps when he noticed something odd. After a mage dies, there should be no more magic fluctuations, but after some time had passed, he still sensed a magical presence. Klar squinted and saw that there was no blood after the crossbow bolt hit. Just as he was about to call for them to stop, a loud explosion rang out, stunning Klar and making his head spin. He quickly activated his aura to steady himself, and when he looked again, he froze in shock.
"Heavens, it's a magic trap!" Klar saw that most of his men were lying on the ground, many missing limbs, and several were already dead. Only two were still alive—one was bleeding heavily from his thigh, and another had a piece of iron embedded in his head. Strangely, the second man wasn't dead and was still patting his body. Klar looked at himself and realized only a minor cut had been made on his calf.
"Thank goodness!" Klar breathed a sigh of relief. Just as he spoke, he suddenly felt the world spinning around him. The last thing he saw was a decapitated body, its blood spraying high into the air. "A high-level thief!" Klar thought to himself, wishing he could scream.