Arrows sliced through the air like lightning ripping across a stormy sky. The startled soldiers barely glimpsed the blur before blood exploded into the air. The first five men collapsed, their shields clattering to the ground with metallic thuds.
Liu Weian stood solemn, left hand gripping his bow with unshakable steadiness. His right hand moved like a phantom, drawing arrow after arrow and letting them fly in a barrage that fell like rain—fast as thunderbolts.
One by one, the charging soldiers dropped. Though their shields were sturdy, they didn't offer full-body protection. Running exposed many vulnerabilities—legs, arms, shoulders. Liu Weian was the most ruthless of hunters; even the smallest weakness was fatal under his gaze.
At a distance of fifteen meters, seven or eight had fallen before he began retreating. As a bowman, he knew better than to engage in close combat. With the enchanted Blacklight Boots beneath his feet, even while backpedaling, he was just a shade faster than his pursuers. Then suddenly—danger flared.
He jerked his head to the side just in time. An arrow whistled past, slicing a bloody groove across his cheek. Looking up, he saw Zheng Xiubo had released a second arrow—this one aimed squarely at his brow.
A sharp glint flashed in Liu Weian's eyes. When it came to archery, he feared no one. He loosed an arrow of his own. The two shafts collided in mid-air with pinpoint precision. His triangular arrow was knocked aside, but Zheng Xiubo's harpoon arrow continued its deadly path, losing strength only near Liu Weian. He easily dodged it.
He fired a chained arrow, killing one of the frontmost soldiers. His expression turned grim. Zheng Xiubo's skills were inferior, but his weapon gave him the edge. Both wielded bows made of ironwood, but Liu Weian's was a lower-grade black iron weapon, while Zheng Xiubo's was top-grade. Two levels apart.
That meant Zheng's arrows had greater power and longer range. With so many enemies around, even a single sneak attack from him could be devastating. And there was nothing Liu Weian could do about it. He couldn't charge forward, only retreat and return fire.
Chained arrow. Another. And another.
Three more fell. Only then did the enemy's momentum falter slightly. Liu Weian raised his bow and released two arrows in rapid succession—one deflected Zheng Xiubo's harpoon arrow, and the other, a chained arrow, flew straight for Zheng's chest.
But Zheng was ready. He shot the first segment of the chained arrow from the air, then grabbed a nearby shield and blocked the second. Simple. Effective.
Liu Weian gritted his teeth. That half-body shield was too damn thick. His chained arrows couldn't pierce it. He swept his gaze behind him.
Over fifty zombies had broken through and were slaughtering the Flying Horse Caravan. The formation had collapsed. What began as a confident pursuit of ghouls had turned into a chaotic rout. In moments, over half were dead or dying.
Then—a man surged forward like a tiger descending from the mountains, charging straight into a zombie.
What followed stunned Liu Weian. On impact, the zombie was hurled backward. The man didn't slow. With a roar, both fists slammed into a second zombie with thunderous force.
Boom! Boom!
The creature flew over ten meters.
The man's fists became claws. He seized the third zombie's arm and tore it off with a bellow that echoed like thunder. Before it could react, he ripped off the other arm, then kicked it away. His wild, beast-like laughter erupted, feral and terrifying.
A chill shot through Liu Weian's spine. Was this man even human?
He shot down another harpoon arrow from Zheng Xiubo and picked up speed, finally escaping Zheng's range. Zheng merely sneered and calmly gave chase.
After kiting his enemies for over 200 meters, Liu Weian was forced to stop. Another squad had flanked him unnoticed, cutting off his retreat. Ahead, twelve more soldiers and a better-equipped Zheng Xiubo blocked his path. Once again—he was surrounded.
Grinding his teeth, Liu Weian ignored the enemy closing in from behind and unleashed a flurry of arrows at the front. Straight shots, angled shots, chained arrows—his aim was simple: clear a path forward. The rear guard was too tight and numerous; only the front offered a chance to break through. Screams echoed. Two fell.
Zheng Xiubo grinned viciously, bow drawn, ready to shoot. But suddenly, a shadow flickered—a petite figure darted in from the side like a ghost.
It was Lu Yan.
Zheng's senses were sharp—he detected her just as she came within three meters. Alarmed, he redirected his bow and fired.
But Lu Yan was no ordinary fighter. In that instant of life and death, she flung her short sword, knocking the arrow aside. In the same motion, she flashed past him.
Crack!
A sickening snap echoed. Zheng Xiubo's head twisted a full 180 degrees, his eyes wide in eternal disbelief. Lu Yan retrieved her sword and dove into the enemy ranks. In moments, screams rang out. The fight was over.
By then, the soldiers chasing Liu Weian were only two meters away. He turned and ran, using the speed boost from the Blacklight Boots to open up a five-meter gap. Two quick arrows slowed the pursuit with fresh screams. He gained another ten meters.
As he glanced back, he saw Lu Yan leap into the fray once more. A flash of her blade—a spray of blood. One more enemy down.
Chained arrows!
Liu Weian halted and began firing rapidly. One arrow, one kill. Five or six fell in a blink. Lu Yan took down another five or six. The remaining soldiers broke into a panic and fled.
Liu Weian rejoiced. This was a bowman's dream—fleeing targets with no defense or shields. Each shot found its mark. Before they could escape even ten meters, they were all dead. Lu Yan only chased down two; Liu Weian handled the rest.
When the two rejoined the main battlefield, corpses littered the ground. Members of the Flying Horse Caravan, ghouls, zombies, all mingled in a grotesque mess. Most were ghouls, but at least fifty were zombies—most killed by the lone middle-aged man. His combat prowess sent chills down Liu Weian's spine.
The only bright spot: there weren't many enemies left. Including the man, fewer than twenty caravan members remained. Clearly, even his brutality couldn't stop the tide.
Liu Weian resumed firing. Five or six more died before anyone noticed. Shields were hastily raised. The middle-aged man turned—his cold gaze locked on Liu Weian like lightning.
"Well now... I underestimated you."
With a roar, he smashed a zombie aside and charged like a tank. Everything in his path—ghoul or zombie—was launched into the air.
A fire lit in Lu Yan's eyes. She kicked off the ground, dirt flying as she shot forward like a bullet. In a flash, she crossed dozens of meters and launched herself into the air, short sword descending in a deadly arc toward the man's head.
"Watch out!" Liu Weian cried, having just downed three more enemies.
Clang!
The sword struck a bare hand, sparks flying. An unstoppable force surged through it. Lu Yan's hand split open, her sword knocked from her grasp, spinning into the dark. A massive fist filled her vision.
Her instincts saved her—barely. She blocked the strike but couldn't counter the force behind it. Blood sprayed from her mouth as her petite frame was launched through the air like a cannonball. The sickening crack of bones snapping followed her.
Ding!
An arrow struck the man's body—no effect. The hidden second shot targeted his eye. He sneered and punched it.
Boom!
The arrow exploded into dust. His fist remained unscathed.
He looked at Liu Weian and smiled as if greeting a friend.
"So, what do you think of my Stone Demon Hand?"
"Not worth a damn," Liu Weian replied coldly, loosing another arrow.
"Bold words!" the man roared. The arrow looked no different than before, yet unease prickled at his gut. He considered dodging but punched instead.
Boom!
The arrow shattered.
So did his fist.
Along with his wrist and forearm, everything exploded in a burst of gore. Just as the pain hit, a second arrow struck his heart.
Bang!
Chunks of flesh flew. A hole the size of a man's head gaped in his chest. He died on the spot.
Chained arrow—paired with the Corpse Dispelling Talisman. A worthy death indeed.
Liu Weian turned his bow on the remaining soldiers. Within minutes, they were all dead. He tossed his bow aside and sprinted toward where Lu Yan had landed.
Just in time. Seconds later, ghouls would have torn her apart. He shot them down, pulled out two zombie essence seeds, and fed them to her—rare miracle cures that could heal any injury in a day or two.
Her arm was broken, ribs shattered, organs displaced. That Stone Demon Hand had shown no mercy. As he carefully reset her ribs, Lu Yan's eyes suddenly opened—unfeeling and sharp.
Liu Weian nearly jumped.
"Scared the hell out of me."
"If you've done nothing wrong, why fear ghosts in the night?" Her gaze tracked his hand.
"You're in a graveyard, you know." Liu Weian muttered.
"Then move your hand."
"Forgot," he mumbled, pulling it away in a flash.