Chapter 5: Ambushes in the Darkness

As valuable targets, noble residences were also prime choices for plundering. After careful consideration, Neo decided to locate his third hideout in such a manor, betting that the dark forces lacked the manpower and effort to raid it repeatedly.

The wealthy and influential in Solth lived mostly in the East District. From Neo’s current position, the best location for his second hideout would be somewhere in the South District under siege by flames. Such places were not hard to find—the South District was filled with shops. Though the demons weren’t as easily distracted by shiny objects as the dragons, the dark worshippers still needed food, drink, and rest. Moreover, on a day like today, which was like a carnival night for those who believed in darkness, how could they justify not indulging in destruction and chaos?

The night wind howled, and every fire in Solth City resembled a massive bonfire—burning silently in the distance, offering no warmth at all, only an icy chill that seeped into the heart. The occasional screams that came through seemed all the more agonizing because of it.

Descending into a low shed and then lightly landing on the ground, Neo moved forward slowly in the darkness, seemingly forgetting that a powerful pursuer was approaching.

For a warrior like Neo, stamina was a value that could be precisely controlled. Terms like management, conservation, and calculation applied to this value. Neo considered his greatest skill to be his ability to manipulate and utilize such values. Over time, he developed some distinctive habits.

At critical moments, Neo could leap from heights of over ten meters without hesitation, run 2,000 meters in one go, fight for over 20 minutes wielding two blades weighing over ten pounds each, and draw every ounce of strength from his muscles for combat. But unless necessary, he wouldn’t waste even a fraction of his energy.

Now, though pursued by the Evil Flame Puppet, Neo knew that the more he faced steady and powerful opponents, the more he needed to remain calm. He had to make use of his strengths to bridge the gap in strength with his pursuer. Saving even a little energy now meant a better chance of survival at a critical moment.

Even in his non-wolf form, a werewolf still had dark vision spanning about 15 yards. This meant that even on the darkest nights, Neo could see everything within the range of three torches clearly, as if it were daylight. This ability allowed him to move swiftly despite the darkness. Thanks to it, the deepening twilight had little impact on Neo. He carefully calculated, adjusted his pace, and maintained what he considered a safe distance, stretching out the time needed to reach his destination.

He had already discarded his chest plate and left shoulder plate. Against the burning chain axe of the Evil Flame Puppet, such armor was far too inefficient. Neo preferred to rely on his agility and speed to dodge attacks. By getting rid of these two pieces of armor, his total load was reduced by at least one-third—another reason for his decision.

Neon had already put on his helmet—the helmet of the “Solid Wall II” armor was one of the most reasonably designed helmets he had ever seen. His own “Brass Wind Wolf Helmet” with its short brim, nose guard, and ear flaps was actually a copy of the “Solid Wall II.” More importantly, above the short brim of the “Solid Wall II” helmet was a diagonally extending rhombus-shaped spike that was wider at the top and bottom and narrower on the sides, resembling the sharp tip at the front of a spear.

Many people thought this rhombus-shaped spike was superfluous and severely damaged the helmet’s aesthetics, but Neon never cared about aesthetics—it didn’t save lives after all. Yet this spike could; it was the only part of the “Solid Wall II” armor capable of piercing heavy armor. Neon had witnessed a gladiator use this sharp weapon to tear a large gap in his opponent’s heavy armor, though it was merely an impulsive act done out of desperation. Still, Neon remembered it well. Half the reason he endured wearing such a heavy iron suit was for that rhombus-shaped spike.

Neon became a young gladiator at the age of 12. Having survived to this day, he naturally developed some unique combat habits, such as combining kicks, knee strikes, elbow blows, and arm blocks in close combat. His greaves and arm guards were practically his second set of weapons. Unfortunately, Neon couldn’t wear them yet. Although he had broken free from his chains during his wolf transformation, he couldn’t break the shackles. To this day, he hadn’t found a suitable tool to unlock them. With no other choice, he used strips of cloth to wrap the heavy chains around his legs and arms, so as not to hinder his movement or make noise.

The vast city of Solis wasn’t completely deserted yet. Along the way, Neon could sense that there were people in many rooms—odors, body heat, sounds—all important clues. Neon knew that, like every time there was a military threat, most residents kept their doors and windows tightly closed, waiting silently for the storm to pass. But this time… Neon could only say that the dark forces weren’t bandits or outlaws. Compared to money, beauty, or roasted meat and ham, the demons preferred human lives and enjoyed torturing them.

“Come out! Get out here!” someone shouted loudly and arrogantly, their voice filled with an indescribable excitement and madness.

“No!” the woman being pulled cried out, gripping the doorframe tightly with one hand to resist the pull of a dark cultist.

A flash of sword light appeared, and blood burst from the woman’s forearm. Her grip on the door weakened, and she was pulled to the ground.

“Captain, this woman’s body is so soft—so delicious! I can’t hold back!” the dark cultist pleaded with his fellow swordsman.

“Hmph,” said the dark cultist leader, slowly sheathing his sword, in a cold tone. “If you’re going to do it, do it quickly. We still haven’t completed our mission.”

“Haha!” The dark cultist laughed excitedly and slapped the struggling woman across the face. “It’s best if you obey. Otherwise, you’ll suffer plenty of punishment!”

Just then, a voice came from a dark corner: “Password!”

The dark cultist tormenting the woman was distracted. Hearing this stern question, he instinctively replied, “Blood Night!” By then, it was too late for the leader to stop him.

Passwords are usually two sentences long. To identify friends from enemies, one first introduces oneself and then asks the other party. Failing to follow the proper procedure often leads to serious problems. Sure enough, almost as soon as the Dark Cultist responded, a fierce gust of wind carrying a glint of cold light struck the minor leader—a sudden thrust from a very tricky angle. The minor leader was already highly alert, and when the attacker tried to trick him into revealing the password, he realized it was an enemy. Though he dodged clumsily, he managed to avoid the strike and drew his sword to counterattack. Unbeknownst to him, the attacker’s attack was merely a decoy; the goal was to force him into a countermove. As the minor leader swung his sword in vain, he saw the attacker already past him, his sword drawing a perfect arc through the air—crack!—severing the head of the Dark Cultist pressing down on the woman. As the headless Dark Cultist bled from his severed neck, the attacker stopped in his tracks, turned, and swung his single-handed sword as if it were two-handed, delivering a powerful diagonal slash from top right to bottom left, aiming straight at the minor leader. With his comrade killed in front of him, the enraged minor leader pursued and aimed straight for the attacker’s back, gaining a slight advantage. Yet the attacker’s sudden stop, turn, and fierce slash were deadly. The minor leader was confident that if he continued his attack, he could succeed, but he also believed the opponent could inflict fatal wounds on him at the same time. The initiative still lay with the minor leader, and in that moment, he chose to avoid the slash rather than risk killing the enemy. “A heavy sword is fierce and deadly, but once its momentum is spent, changing tactics takes time. I’ll endure your strike and seize the initiative with my next move—how can you resist?” The minor leader’s strategy wasn’t wrong, but it was a bit too textbook-like. As a warrior, transitioning from theory to practice requires not only sweat but also blood… The minor leader dodged the attacker’s heavy slash and saw him spin around, preparing for another 360-degree slash. He felt a surge of excitement—he knew his chance had come. Last time, he had been deceived by the attacker, so even though he pursued quickly, he was only half a step ahead. This time, he had complete control. He realized that if he struck quickly, the attacker would still be turning when his sword pierced him, rendering the attacker’s heavy slash far less powerful, even nullifying it, at the cost of severe injury. There was no need to hesitate. The minor leader thrust his sword straight and fiercely. If this were on the training ground with an instructor present, seeing this strike, they would surely say, “Hmm, as a Level 2 warrior, this strike earns over 90 points.” Yet the minor leader’s opponent, the attacker Neo, was a Level 3 warrior—a combat swordsman who had been a gladiator for seven years without any injuries. Rank doesn’t mean everything, but the difference in rank combined with extensive combat experience creates a crucial factor—adaptability.

Neon, skilled in the use of strength and tactics, how could he make such a basic mistake and foolishly let his opponent take the initiative? In fact, the 360° heavy slash was correct, but the true key to this strike wasn’t the arc left by the sword’s glow in midair—it was the movement of his feet, along with the force generated by his legs, waist, and arms. To be precise, it was a variable-speed heavy slash.

The minor boss felt Neon’s movements suddenly speed up, to an absurd degree, rendering his initial assumption that he was far faster completely absurd. Their speeds were actually comparable, but Neon’s attack was extremely powerful, while the minor boss’s sword could only be considered moderately strong.

That moment was even more critical than their first encounter. The intensity and ferocity of Neon’s attacks made the minor boss shrink back. Out of instinctive fear, he chose to dodge by parrying. As long as he could parry and buy even a little time, he was confident he could avoid the main damage range of Neon’s sword. After all, Neon was wielding a one-handed sword but using techniques typical of a two-handed greatsword—there was definitely a difference.

Neon had no intention of missing this rare opportunity. This wasn’t an arena performance where clashing swords and flying sparks were needed; this was a life-or-death struggle requiring full strength, speed, and precision—either he died or the opponent did.

Making full use of his control over his physical abilities, Neon’s variable-speed heavy slash accelerated even further.

Under the minor boss’s terrified, desperate, and incredulous gaze, the crosssword became a streak of light, slashing through his body from left shoulder to right waist. His sword was knocked from his hand. A second later, blood gushed out in a spray as he died.

At that moment, the woman, covered in blood from the Dark Cultist’s neck, barely managed to let out a half-scream of panic.

“If you want to survive, hide your presence as much as possible. Sleeping under a blanket is a good idea. But before that, take care of your wounds and get rid of this blood-stained clothes. The smell of blood easily attracts the demons,” Neon said calmly, pulling the headless corpse off the woman, wiping the blood from his crosssword on the corpse, and then snatching the sword from the Dark Cultist’s waist.

Without waiting for the woman to respond, Neon continued, “You’d better hurry. Soon, a burning creature will arrive here. May your god bless you with safety…” By the end of his words, they had faded into the darkness. Neon needed to exert some effort to regain the safe distance from the Evil Fire Puppet—safety distance was crucial.