The enemy soldiers had formed a rough formation, twenty archers standing behind—arrows drawn—and over eighty infantrymen positioned at the front.
Just as Qin Feng thought they were about to attack, a tall, burly man stepped forward. He was likely the captain of the unit.
"Duke of Qin, you have nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. If you get down on your knees right now and beg, you might still have a chance to save your pathetic life," the captain said.
"Nowhere to run? Nowhere to hide?" Qin Feng replied, his tone growing more dangerous with each word. "Unfortunately for you, you arrived too late. This land will be your graveyard."
The moment the words left his mouth, Qin Feng kicked the sword he had dropped earlier toward the captain.
The force behind, absolutely terrifying.
The blade tore straight through the captain's chest and continued onward, slamming into the soldier behind him. Both men sent flying backward, killed instantly.
[SP + 110]
The remaining soldiers stared at their fallen captain in shock, their minds blank.
"It's Innate Divine Str—" one soldier shouted in alarm.
He never finished.
Qin Feng was already upon him. A single punch landed, and the soldier's head burst apart like a crushed watermelon.
[SP + 10]
Before the body even hit the ground, Qin Feng seized the fallen soldier's spear and hurled it forward—piercing through three soldiers in a straight line.
[SP + 30]
In the span of a few seconds, six soldiers were eliminated.
Qin Feng didn't stop there.
He threw himself into the midst of the enemy ranks—one punch here, one kick there—seizing their own weapons and turning them against them. To the remaining soldiers, he looked less like a man and more like a demonic general on a killing spree.
"Quick! Send the signal! We need reinforcements!" a soldier shouted in panic.
"You idiot, you're the one holding the signal flare!" another screamed back, even more frantic.
Realising this, the first soldier froze. He was the one carrying the signal flare.
His fingers trembled as he fumbled with it, desperately trying to activate it.
Suddenly, everything went quiet.
The screams, the clash of metal, the wet splatter of blood—all of it vanished.
Only the wind remained, rushing past his ears. The cold night air felt sharper, colder than before.
With shaky breaths and stiff movements, he slowly turned around.
A small, unreasonable hope lingered within him—that somehow, they had won. That the enemy general he had seen slaughtering his comrades had finally been brought down.
That hope shattered instantly.
A vice-like grip clamped around his neck, lifting him cleanly off the ground.
With one hand, Qin Feng held him aloft. With the other, he calmly snatched the signal flare away.
The soldier struggled desperately, clawing at Qin Feng's arm, his windpipe nearly crushed as he fought for air.
Casually, Qin Feng flicked his wrist.
CRACK.
The soldier's neck snapped.
[SP + 10]
[Total SP gained in this battle: 1150]
[SP: 1150]
"Nice. Truly the best way to gain SP," Qin Feng said.
He then studied the numbers carefully.
"1150… Looks like there were 106 soldiers in total. The captain gave 100 SP, while the rest only gave 10... It appears that stronger opponents—or those of higher rank—grant more SP."
He nodded slowly.
"Good. Very good."
Qin Feng returned his attention to the signal flare in his hand. This was a flare tube, specially created by alchemist for signaling. It worked just like a modern flare gun. Truly an innovative creation by the alchemists of this world.
He lifted the signal flare and shot the flare into the sky. He then tossed the dead soldier—who he was still holding—aside, along with the flare.
Setting off the signal flare hadn't been impulsive or reckless.
The enemy soldiers were scattered throughout the forest and likely numbered no more than two thousand—even that was probably an overestimate.
Given how spread out they were, the largest units would be similar to this one: a hundred unit.
Even with the flare lit, they wouldn't wait to gather all their forces and head towards the flare. Instead, the nearby units would arrive at different speeds, depending on how close they are.
After all, it's not like they know that he possessed a combat physique. To them, a hundred soldiers was was already overkill for him.
The only reason so many troops had been deployed in the first place was to completely seal off every possible escape route.
...
Qin Feng began gathering usable weapons. He collected spears and arrows, bundling the spears together with strips of cloth torn from the captain's garments and filling three quivers with arrows.
One bundle of twenty spears and a single quiver were placed inside the cave.
Of the remaining two quivers, one was slung across his back, the other secured at his waist.
He then climbed to the top of the cave—a simple task with his newly enhanced grip strength— to surveil the forest.
From there, he observed two distant light sources moving toward his position—one from the northeast, the other from the northwest.
The unit on the northwest was closer, this, he chose them as his first target.
After calculating their speed, Qin Feng selected an ambush point.
He then jumped down and began sprinting toward the northwest.
His goal—
Eliminate them to the last man.
---
Ten Minutes Later — Northwest
Around a hundred Northern Khaganate soldiers marched through the forest toward the location where the signal flare had been ignited.
Their pace was unhurried—almost lazy.
"Why did it have to be that bastard who found him?" the captain grumbled. "Now we'll have to listen to him brag about his 'great achievement.'"
His deputy snorted. "He even set off the signal flare. Couldn't he just drag the injured general back to camp and let the commanders deal with it? All this for one wounded man—"
The captain raised a hand sharply.
"Halt," he said. "Something's wrong."
The deputy immediately began scanning their surroundings. He trusted the captain's instincts—it had saved their lives more than once.
The captain pointed at two soldiers.
"You. And you. Scout ahead."
They nodded and moved forward, torches raised to light the path.
They had taken barely three steps when an arrow shot out of the darkness, streaking past them and striking a soldier in the rear.
"AMBUSH! Prepare for battle!" the captain roared, drawing his sword.
---
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