Half an hour deep into the Buffer Zone, the surrounding trees grew increasingly thick, and the light became ever more dim.
The air was heavy with the pungent, bestial smell—a warning of territorial violation.
Mo Fan stopped, raising his hand to signal Mo Yan behind him to halt.
Under the gray-white filter of [ Death Vision ], on an open ground fifty meters ahead, lay a mass of red light as huge as a small mountain. That red glow was scorching, violent, and extremely stable, like a bomb ready to explode at any moment.
[ Target: Raging Bull (First-rank Mid-stage). ]
[ Characteristics: Thick hide and tough flesh, immense strength, charging can shatter stone and split metal. ]
"Big guy..."
Mo Fan hid behind a tree requiring two people to encircle, observing the behemoth through gaps in the leaves.
It was a bull over three meters long, covered entirely in black iron-colored scale armor. Its pair of horns were like two curved sabers, gleaming coldly in the dappled sunlight. Currently, it lay lazily on the ground, chewing some kind of thorny bramble, making "crunch crunch" sounds.
If this were the old Mo Fan, even just hearing its breathing would make him turn and run without hesitation.
This tank-class Spirit Beast, though not agile, had extremely low margin for error. Just one strike from those horns, or one stomp from those pillar-like hooves, would instantly cripple Mo Fan's small frame with its 95 HP.
"But now..."
Mo Fan glanced at the silent Mo Yan beside him, then patted the storage pouch at his waist.
"I have teammates."
He didn't rush forward, but like a seasoned hunter, calmly began arranging tactics.
"Mo Yan, your mission is—Main Tank and Main DPS."
Mo Fan pointed at the bull, "That sword in your hand may be rusted, but your bones are jade bones, hard enough. Face it head-on to draw its attention, use your movement to tie it down. Remember, don't take hits directly. Your task is to enrage it, make it run, exhaust its stamina."
Mo Yan tilted its head. Though it didn't speak, those leather-gloved hands already gripped the sword hilt behind its back, the cold death Qi on its body beginning to slowly rise.
"No. 003, come out and work."
Mo Fan slapped the storage pouch, and that streamlined leopard skeleton instantly landed.
"You're the Assassin."
Mo Fan lowered his voice, "Activate stealth mode, lurk in the canopy. When it lets down its guard, sever its neck for me."
In No. 003's empty eye sockets, soul fire flickered briefly. Then, with all four limbs exerting force, it silently scurried up a nearby tree like a gecko, instantly melting into the shadows of the branches.
As for Mo Fan himself.
He climbed high into another tree using hands and feet, three [ Mutated Rat Fangs ] tempered with Corpse Poison held in his hand, his gaze cold.
"I'm the Commander, and also the final finisher."
Triangular formation, complete.
"Attack!"
With Mo Fan's command.
Mo Yan, which had been standing like a wooden post, suddenly moved.
It didn't charge recklessly like before. Under the character skin of "Mo Yan," its movements seemed to carry a trace of swordsman's rhythm.
It drew that rust-covered longsword, toes touching ground, body like a black bird, lightly landing ten meters before the bull.
"Roar—!"
The ruminating Raging Bull was enraged by this sudden intruder. It abruptly stood, two jets of white vapor shooting from its nostrils, front hooves pawing ground, head lowering—charge!
Rumble—
The earth trembled.
A first-rank mid-stage Spirit Beast's frenzied charge was like an out-of-control heavy truck. Bushes along the path were ruthlessly crushed, the air even carried sonic booms.
Facing this destructive collision, Mo Yan stood in place, completely motionless, as if paralyzed by fear.
Until those sharp horns were less than half a meter from its chest, until that wave of foul heat already assaulted its face.
It moved.
Not blocking, not tanking.
It only slightly turned its body, footsteps following some profound rhythm, lightly shifting one step to the left.
Whoosh—!
The bull's massive body nearly grazed its robe hem, the draft making Mo Yan's black clothes flutter.
And in that instant of passing, Mo Yan's longsword moved.
No fancy sword techniques, just a simple horizontal slash.
"Szzzt—"
The rusted sword scraped across the bull's hard side scales. Though it didn't break through, it sparked brilliantly and left a long white mark.
Like a matador's elegant strike.
"Beautiful!"
Mo Fan, hidden in the tree, watched dumbfounded.
He'd always thought skeletons could only perform straightforward slashing, or like Summon No. 001's previous "meat tank" suicide attacks.
But now, watching that black-clothed swordsman dancing like a butterfly through the bull's charge path, each time avoiding fatal strikes by a hair's breadth, Mo Fan suddenly realized something.
"Could I have been using the wrong method before?"
"It was a sword cultivator in life... Give it a sword, give it a suitable humanoid body, and its innate combat instincts activate?"
This required no micromanagement from him.
Mo Yan's current performance was that of a battle-hardened swordsman. It didn't need Mo Fan to tell it how to dodge—its bones remembered.
After several rounds of toying.
The Raging Bull was already panting. Its proud strength and charging had become completely useless against this slippery black-clothed opponent.
It roared furiously but couldn't even touch the opponent's robe hem. Instead, it exhausted itself. Though it had no fatal wounds, that sense of humiliation from being played with drove it nearly mad.
Finally, after a failed charge, due to excessive momentum, the bull's front hooves weakened, creating a massive opening.
Old strength exhausted, new strength not yet born.
Mo Fan's coldly observing gaze instantly sharpened.
"Now!"
"Attack!"
Summon No. 003, lurking in the canopy like dead wood, instantly erupted.
It descended from above, that streamlined bone body creating a white afterimage in the air. Using gravitational acceleration, it landed with perfect precision on the bull's back. Those Spirit Beast claws—carefully sharpened by Mo Fan, sharp as knives—encountered no resistance, viciously cutting into the softest flesh at the bull's neck!
"Pfft!"
Blood sprayed wildly.
The bull let out a shrill scream, just about to raise its head and shake off the enemy on its back.
Mo Yan below had long been ready. Its longsword transformed into a cold gleam, using the opening as the bull raised its head, precisely stabbing into the bull's eye, bulging from pain!
"Moo—!"
The scream abruptly stopped.
And Mo Fan in the tree also threw his hidden weapons at the same moment.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Three rat fangs laced with Corpse Poison, in a triangular pattern sealing all the bull's escape routes, firmly embedded in its rear leg joints.
Three-pronged attack.
This iron-hided bull, known for defense and vitality, didn't even have time to activate its final berserk state. That massive body swayed twice, then...
Crashed to the ground.
Dust flew up.
Mo Fan jumped down from the tree, walking to the corpse.
The bull was still twitching, but with throat severed, eye pierced, joints disabled, it was already a dead thing.
[ Killed Raging Bull (First-rank Mid-stage). ]
[ Gained Experience: +150 XP ]
Battle over.
Mo Fan glanced at Mo Yan wiping blood from its sword blade, then at No. 003 squatting on the bull's head licking its claws.
Completely unscathed.
That first-rank Spirit Beast that once made him flee in panic had now, under his "Golden Triangle" tactics, been toyed to death without any decent resistance.
This wasn't just improved strength, but maturity of tactical system.
"Strike it rich."
Mo Fan looked at the spoils on the ground: a complete intact iron bull hide (extremely valuable for armor), two sharp horns (weapon forging materials), plus hundreds of pounds of spiritual energy-rich Spirit Beast meat.
But his attention at this moment focused more on that silent black-clothed figure sheathing its sword.
Mo Fan walked over, circling Mo Yan once, thoughtful light flashing in his eyes.
"So... this is the correct way to use undead summoning?"
"Not treating them as brainless puppets, but rather... teaching according to aptitude?"