Chapter 58

Captain Hank thought today's experience was already bizarre enough.

First, he encountered a group of scouts who were as unreasonable as bandits, and was dragged into chasing a group of ferocious wolf riders; then he met a scout captain who had gone mad, actually planning to launch a surprise attack on a wolf rider camp that outnumbered them by more than two to one...

And now, as he watched the captain stride towards the orc camp, he felt that today's "bizarre experience" might take an even stranger turn...

Waiting in the darkness was not a pleasant experience. Just thinking about the camp a hundred meters away, with thirty-three orcs as strong as bulls and forty-two war wolves, made Hank's legs feel weak.

The thought of fleeing had crossed his mind, but the scene of the Nolan Village scouts facing the orcs head-on filled him with a deeply contradictory emotion—If Rody had said, "We can't win today, let's retreat," Hank would have been the first to turn and leave. But when Rody, as the captain, charged forward first, even though Hank wanted to run, the overwhelming sense of shame prevented him from moving.

No matter how cowardly, Hank was still a citizen of the Kalen Kingdom with a bit of courage in his heart: he feared the orcs, but that didn't mean he didn't want to eliminate them—his comrades had all been killed by these orcs, and he was the only one who managed to escape, an experience that brought not only fear but also boundless hatred.

Though he couldn't muster the courage for revenge, he still harbored some fantasies—perhaps these fearless lunatics... could really kill a few orcs?

If they all died heroically, should he go back and tell others about their deeds?

After much internal struggle, Hank finally gritted his teeth and decided: even if he was called a coward, he would spread the "heroic sacrifice" of these scouts throughout every corner of the kingdom.

Even if he admitted he was a coward, he would do it.

After making this decision, he felt a bit excited about this wish, but after more than two hours of aimless thoughts in the grass, he finally couldn't resist lifting his head and saw that the camp in the distance was still quiet, as if the ambush hadn't started yet.

These guys... didn't leave me here and run away, did they?

His gaze swept over the campfire in front of the orc camp, and he saw the terrifying war wolves, which made him shrink his head in fear and hold his breath. After a long time, he finally had the courage to look up again. Just as he was wondering what tactics Rody had planned, he saw the captain's calm figure walking steadily.

He—just walked over like that?

In the distance, an orc was chopping meat to feed the war wolves, and Captain Rody walked straight up to him and... said something.

This scene was truly shocking—Hank was dumbfounded, and the first thought that came to his mind was, "Could these scouts be in league with the orcs?"

Before his second thought could form, the flash of a blade in the distance cut off all his thoughts.

What happened next left Hank completely stunned—Rody bent down to drag the orc's body and began to dismember it to feed the wolves, calmly leading the pack away...

Hank couldn't bear the impact of the scene for less than a minute and vomited on the ground, but he quickly clamped his mouth shut. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about what he had just seen, but the silhouette of the man wielding the curved blade was branded into his mind—

It was too terrifying, simply not human...

His stomach churned, and when he recovered, he felt he had almost no strength left to stand. When he lifted his head again, he saw Captain Rody walking back towards the camp.

Because the war wolves had left, it seemed that three patrolling orcs had noticed something was amiss and were now peering into the darkness, looking for the war wolves that Rody had led away—Rody, who had not gone far, stopped.

Then, he took off the horn bow from his back and drew an arrow from the quiver.

Hank thought he would see Rody shoot the orcs directly, but instead, the scout captain shouted something strange in the distance—what he heard seemed to be the language of the orcs.

The three orcs in the distance stopped, and then, while responding, they walked towards Rody, apparently mistaking him for one of their own.

Hank swallowed hard, seeing Rody standing there waiting for them, as if he wasn't afraid of being discovered—only when they were less than thirty meters apart did Rody's arm, holding the arrow, suddenly move.

Hank, lying in the grass, couldn't hear the bowstring, but he saw Rody's arm pull the bowstring three times in rapid succession. When he turned his gaze to the other side, the three orcs were almost simultaneously clutching their throats and kneeling, then falling to the ground.

This happened silently, almost like a silent play. Hank rubbed his eyes hard, feeling that everything seemed like a surreal dream, and he had never woken up.

In his line of sight, the calm figure walked to the orc's body, bent down, and pulled the arrows out of the orc's throat.

Hank breathed heavily, trying to pinch his cheeks to stay awake, but the pain only made him more alert... So he began to convince himself to stay calm—perhaps that guy was a highly skilled scout captain, and he would definitely hide and coordinate with his teammates...

But just as this thought appeared, he saw Rody, a hundred meters away, walk into the center of the camp, bend down to pick up firewood from the campfire, and throw it to set the tents on fire...

"Mad... really fucking mad..."

Hank felt as if he had been punched, his face twitching, because he realized that he had not guessed the captain's intentions even once.

The shouting in the camp started after about ten seconds, and an orc discovered the fire, shouting as he rushed out of the tent—just as he lifted the curtain, an arrow shot through his head without warning...

The shocked expression didn't have time to appear, and the still advancing body ran a few steps before collapsing, twitching a few times, and then lying still.

Rody stood openly by the campfire, his horn bow raised, and whenever someone appeared in a tent, he shot an arrow. His posture was so relaxed... Hank, watching from a distance, had never thought anyone could be so calm in such a situation!

If it weren't for the orcs falling in various positions, Hank would have thought Rody was practicing archery on a training ground!

The shouting was chaotic, and the orcs didn't understand what was happening. The first five orcs who reacted were all killed instantly as they stepped out of their tents. The remaining orcs watched their comrades fall with arrows in their heads and only then realized the culprit was standing by the campfire!

More orcs emerged from the tents, and Rody's right arm moved so fast it became a blur. Hank, numb with shock, could only think, "Is this guy going to slaughter the entire camp alone?"

Of course, such a thought was unrealistic.

The orcs finally reacted, howling and surrounding Rody. Out of the original thirty-three orcs, eight had already been shot by Rody. Seeing the enemies abandon the fire and charge towards him, the scout captain suddenly raised his horn bow and shot an arrow into the sky, then casually threw it away.

"Hard fighting will get you killed..."

As an observer, Hank could clearly see Rody's predicament. The orcs surrounding him from all sides were about to overwhelm him—yet in the blink of an eye, Hank lost sight of the captain!

Rody disappeared.

As Hank gaped in shock, not knowing what to say, the sudden sound of hooves... broke through the darkness, charging out from the shadows!

...

When Kosa was woken by the noise outside the tent, the dizziness from drinking wine had not yet subsided.

His mind was fuzzy, and it took him several seconds to remember that he was not in the territory of the Rohar's Hammer tribe but on the border of the Kalen Kingdom.

When he confirmed this fact, the noise outside the tent became piercing—though he didn't know the exact time, such noise was clearly abnormal.

Could someone be launching a surprise attack?

This thought immediately crossed his mind, and the wound on his back inexplicably began to hurt. The scene of the outpost he was in a month ago being ambushed by humans flashed before his eyes, and the ominous premonition made him instantly wary.

He quickly grabbed his curved blade and rushed out of the tent. In the darkness, his subordinates were waving their weapons and rushing towards the campfire, and there were already seven or eight bodies on the ground—Kosa's heart sank, and he shouted, "What's happening?"

But the response was the sudden sound of hooves from the other side of the camp—

His heart seemed to stop for a moment, and when he realized what it meant, the remaining pleasure and courage in his mind vanished in an instant.

"Enemies! Cavalry! Get out of the way!"

He shouted a warning to his subordinates by the campfire, but the horses came too fast. In the darkness, Kosa's vision was poor, and he felt the horses seemed to appear out of nowhere. As the orcs by the campfire turned their heads and pushed each other to get out of the way, the swift knights had already charged in.

"Damn..."

Kosa, standing by the tent, was in a position to observe, but this angle made him see even more clearly how his once-proud subordinates were being brutally crushed by the humans...

On one side were the best of the tribe, chosen from a hundred or a thousand, and on the other side were only seven or eight human knights. It seemed like a fair match, but when the humans charged without warning in the darkness, Kosa sadly realized that his blind subordinates were like wheat stalks under a scythe... completely powerless.