Galock gawked and grew agitated when he recognized the figure. He didn't know whether his eyes were playing tricks on him or whether the war had finally gotten to him.
Those around him wore the same expression, and he realized it wasn't just him; he wasn't imagining it—it was really him!
The battleground fell silent.
When the enemies retreated, the shadow materialized, revealing a young boy with blood-red eyes, clad in fitted red robes and long, curly red hair that caught everyone's attention.
The other thing that made them wide-eyed and horrified was the three-pronged spear, bathing in red light and radiating a brilliant presence. At a glance they all knew it was a unique treasure—and a powerful one at that—in the hands of a kid, no less.
The sight inflamed the enemy camp; they erupted in anger but didn't advance, waiting for their leader's command.
The enemies with Silver Realm strength had already withdrawn tens of meters when they saw their forces retreating. The pressure they had to bear was immense; retreat was their only option. It was then that they realized they were truly no match for the opposing force without their aide's support.
Galock was shocked by the young boy's demeanor; comparing it to how he had been two months earlier left him bewildered. As a mid-stage Silver Realm cultivator, he felt the suppressive energy from both the figure and, especially, the trident.
It was unlike anything he had ever seen.
Galock quickly ran toward the boy, but many others thought he had made a huge mistake, while some smirked with baffled expressions as they, too, came closer.
They quickly gathered around the kid.
On closer inspection, everyone soon recognized him. He was the same person they had been searching for, whose image had been relentlessly distributed across so many territories.
This left everyone confused, and both commanders were at a loss.
In less than five minutes they had watched more than a hundred bodies fall; how could the person they recognized be responsible?
They fell silent, as if defeated.
"Who is disrupting the battle, and why are the soldiers retreating?" Jagan roared in anger when he saw the soldiers retreating. He had been about to send out the town's main force and the reinforcements en masse.
A vein popped on his forehead.
He had already received approval to deploy the troops, but the derailing news stopped him.
"No matter how much they try, this war is ours. We're not just fighting to reduce their numbers anymore; we will obliterate their entire army and plaster the shame on their faces." He erupted in rage as he thought about the message his messenger had brought back the last time.
"Deploy the troops. Their end is near."
He shouted sternly as he strode briskly out from under the large shelter.
___
In a place within Bland Town...
"tsk..tsk..tsk.." the rough-faced man spat in disgust and clicked his tongue as he looked at the chaotic soldiers who had lost all situational awareness. He could see that the assailant was only a Bronze Realm Stage-1 combatant.
How could they be so troubled?
They had been utterly useless in battle, and he blamed the elders for sending him here and even for giving them support. Nonetheless, he knew this was only a small part of a tremendous scheme.
Although he had been taken aback by the abrupt interference, he wasn't shaken in the least. A Bronze Realm cultivator was just a Bronze Realm cultivator; a single slap from him was all that was needed.
"Who is he?" Although he wasn't worried, he still had to ask.
Looking closely, the whisky-haired man's eyes flashed, then a serious, doubtful expression settled over his face as he spoke through gritted teeth.
"It's him. That's the boy you asked us to look for. It's the commander's missing son!" He almost yelled between breaths.
He was stunned. They had dispatched men at once to hunt for Blood when the message came that he'd gone missing; if they found him, he would be their sole bargaining chip against one of the Sand-Scale commanders and their chance to finish him for good. The boy was feeble, crippled in the legs, the places such a kid could go were few.
They had also reported the matter to the rough‑faced man and secured his approval.
Before long, the hunt had ballooned into a full-blown manhunt.
"Is that so? Hmm, it isn't important for now, but if there's a chance, bring him back; if not, kill him. Relay this to the others." he said in a commanding tone, fixing his gaze on the glowing trident.
The trident was alluring, but dared not interfere in the war, lest he incur the wrath of the Settlers. There was nothing he could do but remain still and issue instructions from his position.
"Got it." the whisky‑haired man quickly went back to find the others.
___
Atop one of the many trees surrounding the region, a figure had stood, growing bored over time. Suddenly, their eyes brightened as if they had spotted something intriguing. A cold yet soft laugh escaped their lips, curling into a strange shape.
"Hmm, finally something good. Nice movement skill and precise attack cognition. Good calculation. Swift attacks. Strike to kill. No mercy. Ruthlessness. Just what the organization needed.
"I didn't expect to find such a promising kid in this barren land. This venture outside the organization pays off well." A woman with a curvaceous figure grinned before a cold expression replaced it.
She believed she could atone for her sins by bringing in such talent, and she was willing to do anything for it. It was her only ticket to return in a short time.
___
The battle sprang on with the engagement of Bland Town's main force. The air grew heavy; each breath strained beneath the punishing blaze of the midday sun. No one knew if they would be the next to fall. At its peak, the scorching sun poured down its merciless warmth upon the mortals of the region.
The battlefield boiled with chaos; every fighter locked against another.
The gravity of the struggle multiplied, some clashing in groups, others fighting alone. The clang of metal rang out endlessly, a chorus of sorrow, pain, guilt, desire, joy, and every emotion that war could summon.
Within a corner of the battleground, Blood lifted his head, sweat mingling with streaks of blood as it slid down his face. He had kept Ballock away from the fight, uncertain if he could protect him. This was his first time stepping into war, and though he didn't understand why, he loved it. It felt like a hidden part of himself—long segmented, had now awakened.
The somewhat familiar feeling had returned.