A fantastical journey across the heavens, beginning with the Witcher.

"kill!"

With that said, there is no room for negotiation.

The veterans believed that their fighting strength, when combined with the Witcher, was no less than that of the Witcher, and immediately formed ranks and began to advance.

Four shield bearers stood shoulder to shoulder, kite-shaped shields held in front of them, with long spears pointing diagonally through the gaps in the shields, aimed at the Witcher.

At this point, the correct procedure should be to use an Alder to knock down the shield bearers, thereby throwing off balance the other soldiers, and then rush into the overturned crowd to eliminate the enemy effortlessly.

Or send in an Igni to disrupt the formation before charging in.

Witchers aren't berserkers; if you can use a trick, you don't have to fight head-on.

But he didn't do that.

First, the traces of the seal are too conspicuous, and if someone comes to investigate, it will be easily exposed.

Secondly, it satisfied his curiosity; most of the people who died at his hands were bandits and robbers who had never fought against the army.

So, seeing the veterans advancing slowly, Li De didn't retreat but instead charged forward at a faster pace.

The distance of a dozen or so steps was covered in the blink of an eye.

He suddenly swung his sword to deflect the spear thrusting at him from the front, and the spear tip broke off amidst sparks.

He then reversed his grip on the steel sword, the tip pointing directly at the shield, and rammed into it.

With the blessing of the Svarrog runestone, the already sharp steel sword pierced through the iron mask and wooden shield as easily as piercing paper, emerging from the shield bearer's forearm and spraying a cloud of blood.

"what!"

The veteran, whose forearm was injured, screamed but was swallowed back down. He clenched his teeth, his knuckles turned white, and swung his military knife at Li De.

But the violent impact that followed sent him flying backward, his forearm slamming into his chest, the sword tip piercing through his plate armor, chainmail, flesh, and ribs.

Li De charged forward two more steps, pushing off a shield-bearer, knocking over a spearman before pinning the body to the ground. Blood trickled down the sword, staining the soil a dark red pool.

"grass!"

They've already lost a key player in the first exchange.

The veteran, his eyes bloodshot, swung his warhammer and smashed it into the witcher's back.

The hammerhead, about the size of a fist, was square on the front and had an armor-piercing spike on the back. Paired with a four-and-a-half-foot-long handle, it was swung with a whooshing sound.

The moment the shadow loomed overhead, Li De sensed the killing intent behind him. Without lingering in the fight, he drew his sword, spun around, and dodged, his movements so fast that only a blur remained.

The armor-piercing spike grazed past his ear and slammed into the shield, instantly denting and twisting the iron-clad skin.

The shield bearer, who was already coughing up blood, was struck by the hammer so hard that his eyeballs bulged out and he died on the spot.

"What deep brotherly love! They couldn't bear to see him suffer, so they relieved him of his suffering first?"

As Li De mocked coldly, he thrust out his sword. Taking advantage of the old soldier's momentary lapse in momentum, the steel sword pierced through his arm, and with a twist of his wrist, the muscles tore open, and blood gushed out, soaking the old soldier's armor.

The other veterans rushed back to defend, not even bothering to form a battle formation.

The spearmen, being closer in distance, were the fastest to turn around and defend. In the blink of an eye, their spears thrust forward in unison, the tips piercing the air. Li De's figure weaved through the shadows of the spears, dodging the thrusts while simultaneously withdrawing his longsword.

The veteran wielding the hammer let out a muffled groan as blood gushed from his right arm, which hung limply at his side, his forehead covered in cold sweat.

Several shield bearers arrived a step too late and brought their sabers down on the heads.

Li De held the sword in one hand, blocking with his left arm.

The magical metal taken from the old witch's weapon was incredibly hard, easily parrying the military knife. The blade was chipped, but the shield remained completely unscathed.

With the momentum of his spin, he swept his sword horizontally, the attack distance suddenly increasing by half a foot as his shoulder leaned forward. The blade sliced ​​through the throat of a shield-bearer, so fast that no one had time to react.

The other two shield bearers lunged forward, shields raised, trying to ram the Witcher; the heavy shields brought the impact with brute force.

Unfortunately, we came up empty-handed.

When Li De practiced swordsmanship, he practically lived on the plum blossom stakes. His balance, reaction, and agility were honed to an extremely high level, which was also reflected in his attribute points.

With a nimble sidestep, he slid past the shield bearer, his longsword deftly slicing through the neck guard and severing the artery.

With blood supply to his brain cut off, the shield bearer's vision went black. He staggered a few steps before collapsing to the ground, powerless.

Blood gushed out from the gaps in the neck brace, forming a pool of blood in just two or three seconds.

The first round of combat may seem complicated, but it actually only lasts a few seconds, and the process is incredibly simple.

As a result, three of the four shield bearers died, the veteran in charge lost an arm, and the three spearmen were unharmed, but you could tell from their eyes that they were afraid.

The leading veteran tried to lift the warhammer, but couldn't even grip the weapon. The excruciating pain of his muscles tearing was piercing. He spat out a mouthful of saliva, threw away the warhammer, and bent down to pick up a military knife.

"Being afraid is useless; they can't escape."

These words were spoken to his companions, but also to himself.

The two sides widened the distance again, and the leading veteran hid behind the remaining shield bearers, flanked by spearmen on both sides. But recalling the scene just now, he still didn't feel safe.

Next,

Li De took a step forward, while the others took a step back.

Li De took another step forward, and the others took another step back.

After repeating this several times, he picked up the warhammer from the ground, weighed it in his hand, and found the weight to be just right.

The next second, the heavy armor-piercing weapon began to spin above his head.

Although he had never practiced with a hammer, that did not prevent Li De from using it as a throwing weapon.

The warhammer flew from their hands, crashing down on the crowd with a piercing whistling sound.

The sharp-eyed veteran leader had already crouched down. The shield bearer didn't react in time, and all he felt was a sudden darkness before he lost consciousness.

His heavy body flew backward, his iron helmet was smashed and deeply dented, and his brains mixed with blood splattered all the way, a gruesome sight.

The three gunmen trembled with fear, their faces drained of color. After exchanging a glance, they threw down their weapons and fled, not even daring to look back.

Li De quickly caught up. Four-legged ghouls were hard to catch, but how could a two-legged living person escape?

In just two or three seconds, he caught up with the last spearman, pierced his back with a single sword strike, the tip of the sword protruding from his chest. The spearman groaned and collapsed to the ground.

"Split up and run!"

The remaining two, working in perfect unison, let out a roar and charged in opposite directions toward the dense woods by the roadside, hoping to escape under the cover of the trees.

Li Dexian chased down the nearest person, piercing his back with his sword once again. After swiftly withdrawing the sword, he spun around and assumed a javelin-throwing stance, his arm taut, and threw it with all his might.

The steel sword disappeared, and when it reappeared, it had pierced through the vest of the last gunman, pinning him hard to the tree trunk. After struggling a few times, he became still.

Li De drew his steel sword, walked slowly back to the battlefield, and his gaze fell on the leading veteran.

He ultimately did not take the opportunity to escape, but simply lay helplessly on the ground, the military knife he had picked up lying beside him.

Blood was still gushing from the wound on his arm, staining half of his body red, but he seemed not to feel the pain. He just stared blankly at the corpses lying haphazardly on the ground, his eyes numb.

If he had been more decisive and had run away immediately, he might have had a chance to escape. But now, with his injuries, he couldn't possibly escape the pursuit of a witcher whose nose is even more sensitive than a hunting dog.

Even if he manages to escape back to Beefburg by sheer luck, the mayor, who has lost his nephew, will not let him off the hook. What awaits him then is a fate ten times worse than death.

A gust of wind blew, carrying the stench of blood into his nostrils. The old soldier's gaze gradually became unfocused, and images from the past uncontrollably flooded his mind.

Even before arriving at Beefburg, he had always followed Master Lambert around, acting as a guard, but in reality, he was just an obedient dog.

If Lambert disliked someone and wanted to kill them to establish his authority, he would be the first to rush forward and wield his knife, becoming that blood-stained sword.

If Lambert took a fancy to a girl and wanted to forcibly take her away, he would stand guard outside the door, blocking the crying and screaming family members, acting as that cold door.

Lambert was tyrannical and ruthless, and he was involved in every dirty and evil deed.

He had seen too many tears, heard too many pleas for mercy, and his hands were stained with countless amounts of blood.

At that time, I only felt that with a powerful backer and authority, I could do whatever I wanted. I never thought that retribution would come so quickly and so decisively.

Now that he's ended up like this, it seems... not entirely unjust.

"What? Are you seeing a revolving lantern of your first half of life?"

Li De's voice came through. The veteran glanced at him, tore off his neck brace, closed his eyes, and waited to die.

The Witcher readily agreed.

Not far away, Lambert was already in so much pain that he was losing consciousness.

Driven by the will to survive, they stubbornly clung to the mud and gravel, digging their fingernails into the ground, moving forward little by little with great difficulty.

His severed leg was twisted at an eerie angle, and with each movement, the excruciating pain of the bones grinding together shot straight to his brain, causing him to convulse and whimper uncontrollably. His former arrogant and domineering demeanor had vanished, leaving only the fear of impending death.

Li De followed behind at a leisurely pace, his steps light and deliberate, as if teasing an insect whose hind leg had been torn off and which was struggling in vain.

They neither rushed forward to finish him off nor let him crawl away.

Whenever Lambert was exhausted and about to faint, Li De would deliberately kick a pebble or tap his longsword lightly against his armor, making a soft sound.

The slightest movement was particularly jarring in the deathly silence.

"what!"

Lambert was instantly terrified. His survival instinct overcame the excruciating pain, and he mustered his last bit of strength to crawl forward two more steps.

All he wanted was to escape, to get as far away from this devil as possible, even if it was just for one more second.

Seeing him struggle to crawl to the end of the path, where the edge of the dense forest lay ahead, Li De finally stopped teasing him. He stepped on the broken leg and, before a cry of pain could be heard, pierced the heart with his long sword, pinning him to the ground.

"I really admire myself; my merits must be increasing rapidly."