Translator: AnubisTL
When Jieming agreed to escort them, the nobles of Golden Harbor felt as if they had been pulled back from the brink of hell.
They were ecstatic, rushing to spread the news and bubbling with uncontainable excitement.
However, Jieming's next words were like a bucket of cold water, dousing most of their joy.
"I won't wait for you long," Jieming said, his voice cold and decisive. "Prepare the carriages immediately. Only the most essential, lightweight supplies are to be brought. Leave the rest behind."
"Golden Harbor's location is precarious. The orcs will organize another attack soon. We must leave before the sun fully rises!"
At these words, the faces of the nobles, who had been planning to pack up their valuables and take their entire homes with them, instantly darkened.
But the combat prowess Jieming had displayed, coupled with the imminent threat of the orc army's invasion, left them no room for defiance.
Earl Reinhardt was the first to react, responding with a trembling voice and immediately relaying Jieming's orders.
Under the pressure of survival, the nobles' efficiency quickly improved.
Before long, a long, winding line of noble carriages had formed beneath the broken city gates, slowly beginning to move forward in the morning light.
Earl Reinhardt, his face pale with the exhaustion of survival, glanced through the carriage window one last time at the still-smoldering port, his heart heavy.
Jieming, instead of riding a horse or boarding a carriage, walked at the very front of the procession.
His steps were steady and measured, each one precise and without wasted motion.
"Keep up! No stragglers!" His voice, though he didn't turn around, carried with unquestionable authority to every corner of the group.
Several private soldiers, weakened by a night of fear and fatigue, began to lag behind.
Jieming merely turned his head slightly, his gaze like two cold blades instantly piercing one of the gasping soldiers.
The soldier, startled by the look, shuddered violently and lurched forward, as if whipped by an invisible lash, struggling to catch up.
When another soldier opened his mouth to complain, Jieming raised his hand. A small stone whizzed through the air and struck the man squarely on the shinbone.
"Hiss—!" The private soldier gasped sharply in pain.
Clutching his calf, his face turned pale, but under Jieming's gaze, he didn't dare complain. He just gritted his teeth and quickened his pace.
Everyone in the procession felt Jieming's undeniable power. The nobles in their carriages fell silent, too afraid to voice their complaints.
The procession continued along the desolate dirt road toward the royal capital.
Low bushes and sparse trees lined the road, and the air was filled only with the rustling of wind through the wild grass and the creaking of wheels on gravel.
The towns outside Golden Harbor had long since been "cleared" by the orcs. The farther they traveled from the port, the fewer traces of human activity they found.
The nobles occasionally glanced out through the carriage curtains at the desolate landscape, their hearts growing more uneasy.
After several hours of travel, the sun hung high overhead.
The procession reached a slightly flatter, hilly area when suddenly...
"Awooo!"
A wild, piercing wolf howl shattered the wilderness's silence.
Immediately, faint tremors began to ripple through the ground, gradually growing clearer and more forceful.
In the distance, along the horizon, black silhouettes surged forward like wild horses, approaching the caravan at breakneck speed.
"It's... it's orcs! Wolf riders!" a sharp-eyed guard screamed in terror, his voice trembling uncontrollably.
Over twenty powerful war wolves appeared, their legs churning as they raced like the wind.
On their backs rode orc archers clad in exquisite leather armor and wolf riders wielding curved blades.
These orcs exuded a bloodthirsty, savage aura. They were clearly a scout team from the orc vanguard, their objective clear: to delay and harass this seemingly plump noble caravan.
"Watch out! They're charging!"
Panic erupted through the caravan.
Sharp screams erupted from the nobles' carriages. Servants trembled violently, and some collapsed to the ground in a heap, paralyzed by fear.
The private soldiers frantically drew their weapons and organized a defensive line, but their hands shook, and their eyes were wide with terror of the unknown.
The orc wolf riders were too fast. They surged forward like a black tide, flanking the convoy and aiming straight for the ornate carriages.
"Damn it! Don't let them break through!" General Brandon roared hoarsely.
Just as the convoy descended into chaos, the figure at the very front remained motionless.
Jieming glanced at the approaching wolf riders, not even giving the private soldiers behind him time to organize their formation.
With a slight lift of his leg, he shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow, instantly erupting from the front of the formation.
His speed defied mortal comprehension. To all eyes, he was a blurred black afterimage, plunging into the densest formation of wolf riders in the blink of an eye.
"Roar!"
A massive war wolf, bearing an orc archer with a greatbow, lunged at Jieming, its fangs and claws tearing through the air.
Jieming dodged with spectral agility, evading the attack. His right hand shot out, seizing the war wolf's neck.
The war wolf let out a pained howl, but Jieming's immense strength held the massive beast suspended in mid-air, its thrashing body restrained.
In an instant, Jieming's left hand flashed to his waist, drawing his short sword. The blade arced through the air in a perfect arc, slicing precisely across the war wolf's neck.
Slish!
Warm blood erupted from the wound. The war wolf let out a final, pained whimper as its massive body convulsed in midair before crashing heavily to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.
The orc archer on its back hadn't even reacted when he was flung from the creature's back.
Jieming's toe pushed off the wolf's corpse, propelling him forward in a blur. He lunged at the airborne orc archer.
Thud!
His vicious whip-kick struck the orc's chest.
The orc had no time to resist; his ribs instantly caved inward.
The orc's tough physique, usually an advantage, now became a liability. The kick that would have reduced a human to a bloody mist sent the orc flying like a cannonball, slamming into another charging war wolf.
Both figures rolled across the ground, convulsing briefly before falling still.
Meanwhile, the remaining wolf riders had completely surrounded the noble party.
The scene was a chaotic, bloody tableau of howling wolves, roaring orcs, shrieking nobles, and the clang of clashing steel.
The private soldiers fought desperately, but their swords and blades struggled to inflict fatal wounds on the thick orc hide and ferocious war wolves.
Yet the orcs were too slow to inflict significant casualties. Where Jieming passed, it was a one-sided slaughter.
He moved through the wolf packs and orcs like the god of death, each flicker of movement meaning the end of another life.
An orc wolf rider swung his curved blade, slashing at Jieming from the side.
Instead of dodging, Jieming took a sudden step forward and drove his right fist into the flat of the blade.
Clang!
The metallic crash echoed sharply as the curved blade recoiled violently. The hilt slammed into the orc's face, crushing half his cheek and sending teeth flying amid a spray of blood and foam.
The orc whimpered in agony, his wrist throbbing with pain as the weapon slipped from his grasp.
Jieming surged forward, his left hand clamping around the orc's neck like an iron vise. With a swift twist...
Snap!
The crisp sound of bone breaking cut through the din of battle.
The orc's body went limp, and Jieming casually tossed him aside.
His movements were too swift to follow, his strength incomprehensible.
Every wolf rider who tried to surround him was torn apart, crushed, or had their throats slit effortlessly by the short sword in his hand.
There were no dazzling spells, no surges of mana, only the raw, primal power of physical combat.
Yet this mortal-limit strength was more devastating than any dazzling display of magic.
In a mere dozen seconds, Jieming single-handedly slaughtered over twenty wolf riders.
When he split the last fleeing war wolf in two with a single sword strike, a bizarre silence fell over the battlefield.
Only the sound of the wind whistling across the wilderness remained, along with the ragged gasps of the nobles and their guards.
The nobles had already suspected "Jack's" formidable strength upon seeing the pile of orc corpses outside the manor.
But witnessing his exaggerated combat prowess firsthand, they realized they had underestimated him.
They had initially thought Jieming was merely an added layer of security; now they understood he was their absolute safeguard!
"This man... has already stepped onto the path of legend, hasn't he?" Earl Reinhardt cautiously peered out from behind his hidden carriage, gazing at Jieming's retreating figure and murmuring to himself.
Jieming turned around, his blood-stained short sword still in his hand.
His eyes swept indifferently over the nobles and guards, who stood frozen in place, their faces pale with shock and terror.
"Continue forward," he commanded, his voice devoid of emotion.
No one dared to confront Jieming after what they had just witnessed.
Silence fell over the group. No one dared to complain, and no one dared to question his orders.
The guards remained motionless, their eyes fixed on the fallen orc and war wolf corpses. They couldn't help but swallow hard, their mouths dry.
Having fought these creatures themselves, they understood the vast power gap between them.
At the command to "Jack," the guards stiffened as if struck by a whip, then sprang into action with renewed urgency.
Through their coordinated efforts, the chaotic group was quickly reorganized. The carriages resumed their slow progress, the rumble of their wheels echoing sharply in the deathly quiet wilderness.
The procession continued forward under the stunned gazes of the group, leaving behind only the scattered bodies of orcs and war wolves littering the wasteland and the lingering stench of blood in the air.
(End of the Chapter)
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