Burning

When the caravan members saw Matthew slay Valentine with a single strike, unbelievable ecstasy erupted on their tense faces.

Although they were not Class holders and could not see the deeper intricacies of ranks and talent, seeing the fierce horse bandit leader easily cut down like straw sent an indescribable surge of excitement through their hearts.

What horse bandits? What leaders? In front of this young “Lord Matthew,” they were like paper, easily slain at a whim!

Not far away, Regg's pupils contracted slightly as he witnessed this scene, a tempestuous wave of shock surging in his heart as well.

As a scion of a great family, he had seen many so-called “geniuses”—branch family descendants who had stepped into the Brass Rank at seventeen or eighteen and carried the high hopes of their clans, and academy elites in their early twenties who could master several combat techniques and rarely met their match among peers of the same rank.

He himself was also worthy of being called a genius. At just twenty-one years old, he had already firmly established himself in the Brass Rank. He had even shown comprehension beyond his years in practicing his family's secret combat techniques, earning praise from several clan elders in private as “the most promising seed to charge for the Gold Rank within ten years.”

Yet, even someone like him had never seen a... monster like Matthew.

Although he did not know Valentine's exact background, he could tell from his coordination with the horse bandits, the timing of his strikes, and other factors that he was a battle-hardened Brass Rank expert.

For such an opponent to be slain by Matthew with a single, effortless strike... Matthew's strength was definitely not limited to the Brass Rank!

Amidst his shock, a strong sense of urgency rose in Regg's heart.

Such a genius had to be won over at all costs. He absolutely could not let other forces, especially enemies, get to him first. If that failed, he would have to eliminate him root and branch!

At this moment, Regg's personal guards had already been dispatched to support the front of the carriages. Otherwise, if anyone saw his current expression, they would have been even more astonished.

Meanwhile, the horse bandits fell into a state of panic.

They had witnessed their powerful sub-leader, Valentine, being killed in an instant. The morale they had built up through sheer numbers and ferocity collapsed in a flash.

Some of their hands began to tremble as they held their weapons, while others instinctively pulled back their horses, their eyes filled with terror.

If even a Brass Rank leader couldn't survive a single strike, wouldn't ordinary bandits like them just be throwing their lives away?

The urge to retreat spread through the crowd like weeds, and their once-ferocious offensive instantly fell apart.

They were greedy for money, yes, but when it came to losing their lives, they instantly sobered up.

Seeing this, Nathan glanced at the yellow-haired youth. The latter's expression remained calm, but the silent urging in his eyes grew increasingly clear, as if he had long anticipated this moment and was waiting for it.

A disgust as thick as ink welled up in Nathan's eyes, but he knew he had no other choice now.

He hesitated no longer and bit the tip of his tongue hard. The moment a metallic, bloody taste spread in his mouth, the aura around his entire body suddenly surged!

His already robust life energy seemed to be ignited, violently pouring out from deep within his body. A faint yet heart-palpitating bloody red light seeped out from beneath his skin, wrapping around the scimitar in his hand.

The cold light on the blade was covered by the red glow, letting out a faint, low hum, as if a lion thirsty for blood had opened its eyes. He charged violently toward Porter, who was panting heavily not far away.

At this moment, Porter, not far away, had just recovered from the shock and ecstasy of Matthew instantly killing Valentine.

He was just beginning to feel that the scales of victory were tilting when, from the corner of his eye, he suddenly caught sight of a figure enveloped in a faint red light, charging toward him at a speed far exceeding before!

His pupils contracted violently. Before he could even fully adjust his stance, the scimitar, which seemed to burn with bloody flames, slashed down from above with a suffocatingly ferocious momentum!

In his haste, Porter could only raise his sword with all his might to block.

The deafening roar of the clashing weapons numbed the ears, and a brutal force far exceeding anything prior violently surged through the blade.

Porter felt the bones in his arms let out an overburdened groan. The web of his thumb split instantly, and his longsword flew from his grip!

He felt as though he had been struck by a heavy battering ram, stumbling back several steps before spitting out a mouthful of blood. His face turned deathly pale as he collapsed to the ground, unable to stand back up.

This sudden turn of events came too fast and too violently!

Just a second ago, everyone was cheering for Matthew slaying the powerful enemy. In the next, Porter, who had barely been holding his ground, lay severely injured on the ground.

The entire battlefield suddenly fell silent.

Whether it was the caravan members or the horse bandits, everyone was dumbfounded by this sudden reversal, as if even their breathing had paused for an instant.

Matthew's gaze narrowed slightly. He quickly discerned the truth from the abnormal bloody red light around Nathan's body and his suddenly surging yet faintly chaotic aura.

He understood immediately. This was incredibly similar to the desperate method Brody had used when they fought.

Since both Nathan and Brody hailed from the Fiery Lion family, it was not hard to understand why he would know such a secret technique.

Although such methods could temporarily force a boost in combat strength, the price was bound to be extremely heavy. At best, it would damage one's foundation; at worst, it would result in immediate death. Moreover, it absolutely could not be sustained.

A cloud of doubt drifted through his mind:

However, the battlefield was constantly changing, leaving him no time to ponder.

For in that split second, Nathan, his aura surging, had already charged straight toward the weakened Porter on the ground like a ferocious beast released from its cage!

The scimitar, wrapped in a faint yet terrifying red light, was filled with murderous intent, clearly intending to end Porter's life once and for all.

Matthew's pupils contracted violently. Without a shred of hesitation, he instantly circulated all his life energy to activate the “Feathering” state, drawing his bow fully and letting an arrow fly!

He released his fingers, the bowstring vibrating sharply as a fierce arrow tore through the air, shooting straight toward Nathan's upper back.

This shot was not meant to kill, but only to hinder. Even if it could only delay him for a fraction of a second, it would buy a sliver of hope for Porter's survival.

After all, whether it was to maintain his cooperative relationship with Regg and ensure his future interests in the county seat would not be affected, or simply for his own immediate survival, once Porter—their core combat strength—fell, Nathan's next target would undoubtedly be him.

At that point, all the pressure would fall solely on his shoulders, and the consequences would be unimaginable.

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