Encirclement

But Jiang Lin's sword was faster.

The moment the tip of his sword touched the toxic mist, a layer of deep blue frost coated the blade, freezing the corrosive poison into tiny ice crystals that clattered to the ground.

The tall, thin apostle groaned as his robes were slashed open at the back, blood soaking the black fabric.

Although the blow hadn't hit any vital organs, it completely threw him off balance. He fell forward, rolling awkwardly a couple of times before managing to steady himself.

“Kill him!”

The leading apostle roared. Dark red magic essence surged violently around him, and the glow on his long saber intensified. The moment he stepped forward, the six figures behind him moved in unison.

The short, stout shield-wall apostle took a wide step forward to block the front of the group. A giant shield condensed from dark red energy formed before him, its surface bearing the twisted pattern of a skull.

The fire-attribute and ice-attribute apostles raised their right hands simultaneously, sending a wave of dark red flames and a stream of icy-blue cold current overlapping toward Jiang Lin.

Flames and frost intertwined in midair, forming a bizarre vortex of red and blue energy.

Meanwhile, the assassin-type apostle completely vanished into the shadows. Jiang Lin's Space Perception could only capture a faint, almost imperceptible aura quietly approaching from his rear flank.

At the same time, the leading apostle raised his saber once more. The dark red light on the blade condensed to its limit, turning into a solid, dark red saber light that swept toward Jiang Lin.

An attack from both front and back, a pincer movement from the left and right.

This coordination was seamless, clearly honed through countless real battles. There was no hesitation or probing; they struck with full force to kill.

Jiang Lin did not retreat.

He raised his left hand, splaying his fingers, and made a grasping motion toward the swirling red and blue energy.

Space Folding.

The fire and ice energies brushed past his sides, slamming into the riverbank behind him. They blasted a crater several meters wide, sending shattered rocks and dirt flying.

With his right hand, he raised his sword, facing the sweeping dark red saber light head-on without dodging.

Unleashing his intermediate condensation sword intent with full power, a blinding golden light suddenly erupted from the Eight Extremities Holy Sword.

It was not just holy light; rather, it was his Sword Intent Condensation, which he had repeatedly polished to the intermediate condensation level through his cultivation on the elven planet and the East Continent, poured entirely into this single strike.

“Clang!”

The deafening clash of saber and sword echoed through the river valley.

The dark red and golden-white lights clashed, intertwined, and annihilated each other, sending ripples visible to the naked eye through the surrounding air.

Jiang Lin took three steps back, each step leaving a deep footprint in the riverbed.

The sleeve of his right arm was torn by the residual saber qi, and several fine bloody scratches appeared on his skin.

The leading Demon God Apostle, however, only retreated a single step. Once he steadied himself, he looked down at his long saber. A tiny crack had appeared on the blade.

His pupils contracted slightly.

“Your sword intent... has already reached intermediate condensation?”

Jiang Lin did not answer.

He silently calculated in his mind.

Unleashing his intermediate condensation sword intent at full power, combined with Space Folding and the Eight Extremities Holy Sword, allowed him to take a full-strength strike from a 6th-rank peak Demon God Apostle at the cost of minor injuries.

Not a bad trade.

But out of seven enemies, he had only injured two, and both were minor. The remaining five were in perfect condition.

He needed to whittle down their forces as much as possible while keeping his own consumption low to maintain the upper hand in the prolonged battle ahead.

Suddenly, a burst of blazing fire exploded in midair.

The flames fell like a meteor, slamming precisely between the fire-attribute and ice-attribute apostles. The resulting shockwave forced both of them back.

A fiery-red figure stepped out of the flames, her deep burgundy curly hair fluttering in the heatwave. In her hand, she held a long whip condensed from fire, its tip dragging a scorched trail along the ground.

Mavis had arrived.

Immediately after, two figures appeared on the hills flanking the river valley.

Lothar stood at the peak of the northern hill, holding a silver-white two-handed greatsword adorned with flowing golden holy light runes, looking down at the battlefield in the valley.

Good crouched beside him, his tower shield—almost as tall as he was—already planted in front of him. Its surface was carved with the battle runes of the God of War.

On the eastern slope, Dorian's figure appeared silently. Still clad in his gray chainmail with a shortsword at his waist, he now held a dark shortbow. The bowstring was drawn taut, the arrowhead pointing toward where the assassin apostle had vanished.

Selene stood further away by the statue, her hands clasped together as pale blue healing magic essence flowed around her, ready to provide support at any moment.

Although Victor had not shown himself, Jiang Lin's Space Perception caught him moving rapidly along the periphery of the battlefield, like a venomous snake waiting for its chance to strike.

“Seven against one? Quite impressive, isn't it?” Mavis's voice echoed through the valley, filled with undisguised mockery. “Now, things are fair.”

The leading Demon God Apostle's face turned livid.

He hadn't expected their reinforcements to arrive so quickly and with such precise positioning, showing up almost the exact moment they moved to encircle Jiang Lin.

This meant that from the very beginning, this 4th-rank mid-stage blonde youth had not been fighting alone. Instead, he had acted as bait and a vanguard to draw them into an encirclement.

At the rear of the enemy formation, the leading apostle's expression darkened completely. He had underestimated this 4th-rank mid-stage human.

Not only had he underestimated his combat power, but he had also underestimated his tactical intelligence. From drawing them in at the start, to the precise placement of spatial anchors, to the timing of his teammates' encirclement—every step was perfectly calculated.

“Retreat,” he suddenly ordered, his voice low and urgent. “Retreat north, back to the rift.”

“Retreat now?” The stout shield-wall apostle froze. “We haven't even—”

“I said retreat,” the leading apostle interrupted him, his tone leaving no room for argument. “He has already forced out most of our trump cards. If we keep fighting, even if we win, we will suffer heavy losses. We must head back first and regroup with the main force.”

He looked up at Jiang Lin, a complex mix of emotions flashing in his dark red eyes—unwillingness, anger, and a hint of wariness that he didn't even want to admit to himself.

“The next time we meet, there won't be just seven of us.”

On the other side of the valley, atop the hill, Good crouched behind his tower shield, peering through a gap at the edge of the massive shield to observe the situation below.

Seeing the seven black-robed figures begin to fall back, he couldn't help but grin.

“They're trying to run.”

Jiang Lin stood in the river valley, his golden eyes fixed on the seven dark figures rapidly retreating north.

“They won't get away.”

He spoke softly, then raised his right hand, splayed his fingers, and made a gentle grasping motion toward their retreating backs.

【Spatial Anchoring · Node Detonation】.

The eleven spatial anchors he had placed along the way lit up simultaneously. Silver-white light erupted from various points along the riverbed, looking like a string of ignited stars against the dark purple sky.

The beams of light intertwined, connected, and wrapped around each other in midair, ultimately weaving into a massive spatial web that enveloped all seven dark figures.

The leading Demon God Apostle's figure suddenly froze, as if he had slammed into an invisible wall.

He raised his hand, condensing dark red magic essence in his palm, and slashed viciously at the spatial barrier before him.

“Boom!”

The barrier shuddered violently, fine cracks webbing across its surface, but it did not shatter.

“Ten breaths,” Jiang Lin's voice drifted over from behind, as calm as if he were merely stating a fact. “My spatial anchoring can trap you for ten breaths.”

He stepped forward, the Eight Extremities Holy Sword condensing in his hand once more, its golden light shining like a miniature sun in the twilight.

“Ten breaths is enough for us to kill you seven times over.”

Lothar was the first to move.

Leaping down from the peak of the hill, his silver-white greatsword traced an arc through the air. The holy light runes on the blade flared to life as he crashed into the enemy formation like a meteor.

The moment the blade descended, the stout shield-wall apostle raised his dark red giant shield to block. However, Lothar's strike was far too heavy—so heavy that the shield condensed from dark red energy shattered into countless fragments in an instant.

The stout apostle groaned as he was forced back several steps, his feet plowing two deep trenches into the riverbed.

Good charged into the fray right behind him. With his tower shield out front, he moved like a runaway carriage, ramming the tall, thin poison-attribute apostle—who had just scrambled to his feet—and sending him flying once more.

The toxic mist sizzled against the golden holy light barrier on the surface of his body, unable to penetrate it.

Mavis's fire whip snapped through the air with a piercing crack, wrapping precisely around the ankle of the fire-attribute apostle.

With a flick of her wrist, she yanked him clean out of the formation, slamming him onto the riverbed and creating a shallow crater.

“Your flames aren't quite hot enough yet.”

She smiled, condensing an even hotter fireball in her palm and pressing it down toward his chest.

The ice-attribute apostle tried to support his ally, but an arrow flew silently from the eastern slope, pinning itself precisely half an inch in front of his foot.

The fletching of the arrow trembled slightly in the wind, its shaft engraved with a simple ice rune.

Dorian stood on the slope, his shortbow already drawn once more, the arrowhead locked firmly onto the ice-attribute apostle's throat.

He didn't speak, but his meaning was clear enough.

Move again, and the next arrow won't hit the dirt.

Victor's figure materialized silently behind the assassin-type apostle, a pitch-black dagger pressed against the back of the other's neck.

The assassin apostle froze instantly. He hadn't sensed Victor's approach at all.

“Don't move,” Victor whispered, his voice raspy but steady. “Move and you die.”

From the activation of the spatial barrier to all seven Demon God Apostles being subdued, barely seven breaths had passed.

Eight breaths.

The leading apostle was still trying to hack through the barrier, but the cracks had only widened slightly. He looked back at the battlefield; five of his seven men had already been subdued or forced back. Only he and another 6th-rank mid-stage black-robed man remained standing.

His face was dark enough to drip water.

Nine breaths.

He lowered his long saber, took a deep breath, and condensed dark red light in his palm before slamming it hard against his own chest.

A violent surge of energy erupted from within his body, forming a circular shockwave that blasted everyone around him backward.

The spatial barrier shattered instantly.

His body turned into a streak of dark red light, shooting northward at a speed far exceeding his previous limits, leaving a scorched trail on the ground.

The other 6th-rank mid-stage black-robed man turned around without hesitation, following close behind. Within a few bounds, they vanished past the horizon.

The remaining five subdued Demon God Apostles tried to flee, but it was already too late.

Lothar's greatsword, Good's shield bash, Mavis's fire whip, Dorian's arrow, and Victor's dagger descended simultaneously.

The five dark red figures collapsed almost at the exact same moment.

A brief silence returned to the river valley.

The metallic tang of blood and the scorched scent of burned magic essence lingered in the wind.

Jiang Lin walked over to the nearest corpse, crouching down to examine the injuries.

Lothar's strike had severed the throat cleanly, leaving no extra wounds.

“Two got away,” Lothar's voice came from behind, laced with frustration. “The method that leader used to erupt at the end was very strange. His speed increased by at least thirty percent in an instant.”

“It's normal,” Jiang Lin said, standing up. “A 6th-rank peak Demon God Apostle is bound to have some life-saving trump cards. Let them run. At least we kept five.”

He walked over to the tall, thin poison-attribute apostle who had been rammed by Good. The man was heavily injured but still drawing breath.

“Keep one alive.”

Jiang Lin told Good.

Good nodded, hauling the tall, thin apostle up from the ground and pinning him against a boulder on the riverbed.

The apostle coughed twice, spitting out a mouthful of dark red blood. He raised his head, staring at Jiang Lin with turbid eyes, his lips curling into a mocking sneer.

“What... do you want to know?”

Jiang Lin crouched before him, his golden eyes gazing at him calmly.

“How many of you are in Caeous? Where is your outpost?”

The apostle grinned, exposing teeth stained crimson with blood.

“You don't actually think I'm going to tell you, do you?”

Jiang Lin remained silent for a moment. Then, he raised his right hand, pressing his index and middle fingers together as a speck of deep blue light condensed at his fingertips.

He pressed that speck of light against the apostle's brow.

The ice soul power was not lethal, but it was extremely cold.

The chill seeped through his forehead, eroding his nerves inch by inch.

The apostle's body began to shudder violently, his teeth chattering loudly, but he gritted them and refused to make a sound.

Jiang Lin did not stop.

The chill burrowed deeper—from his forehead to his eye sockets, from his eye sockets to his nasal cavity, and from his nasal cavity to his throat.

It felt as if someone were taking needles made of ice and driving them one by one into the marrow of his bones.

The tall, thin apostle finally broke.

“I'll talk... I'll talk...”

His voice trembled, his teeth clicking together uncontrollably from the freezing cold.

Jiang Lin withdrew his hand, and the deep blue speck of light dissolved from his fingertips.

The apostle curled up on the ground, gasping heavily. Dark red fluid mixed with traces of ice crystals leaked from the corners of his eyes and nostrils.

“The outpost... is in an abandoned stone city forty miles north of the rift...”

......