Chapter 262: The Death Squad

In the open space between the two defensive walls, the protective river had already been built. About a hundred meters wide and roughly ten meters deep, it was constructed in an unimaginable amount of time. Nearly a hundred thousand soldiers took turns attacking at astonishing speeds, and the warriors’ formidable destructive power made Rod feel ashamed—such efficiency was surely unprecedented. What puzzled Rod even more was where all that soil had gone. Carriages and soldiers were constantly transporting it to the rear, day and night, without pause. He had been here for quite some time and hadn’t entered the city, so he really didn’t know what had happened.

Looking at the nearly completed protective river, water was now being poured into it gradually. All excess water in Iron Bar Town, aside from what was needed for daily life, was being brought here. Some water magic users who had withdrawn from the front lines used their abilities to draw water from the air and earth, forming small water balls that were thrown into the river to speed up its rise.

With such a natural barrier and the mutual defense provided by the two defensive walls, Rod believed that even if another outbreak occurred, it shouldn’t be a serious problem. As for the vampires, demons, and werewolves who might appear, though puzzled by what had happened, they felt somewhat reassured by these walls—should those groups show up, nothing serious would likely happen in the short term.

“When did you arrive?” Sensing someone approaching, Rod turned and was surprised to see Nightingale by his side again. He asked in astonishment.

“Just now,” she replied calmly, as if it were perfectly normal. She seemed to stick closely to him, and her gaze made Rod feel a bit guilty. Her direct look gave him the illusion that she had already figured out his identity.

“Boss, we should go up. Damn, in just one day, these guys have suffered heavy losses. Three camps in Zone C have been completely destroyed, plus those soldiers from the Black Teeth Legion. Damn it…” A soldier returning from the front lines shared some news, and Curly Hair came over to Rod and exaggeratedly described the situation.

His words turned everyone’s faces pale. Three military camps had been completely destroyed, meaning all their troops were wiped out, leaving only a few scattered survivors who could hardly form a fighting force. As for the other camps? The situation there was likely no better. On his way back, he saw the troops from the neighboring Twelfth Camp who had just withdrawn to rest. He heard that they had lost one-third of their strength. How much more loss would there be in total?

Swallowing hard, he remembered that when he left with his men in the morning, they had lost only three thousand men. He had thought the day would be the easiest, but who would have imagined such a disaster?

“Let’s go, climb up and take a look!” With a darkened expression, Rod quickly shouted at the group, then led them swiftly toward the city walls. Something extremely serious might have happened. In fact, Rod was more worried about the appearance of the demon race. If they showed up, such losses would still be within normal limits. But if they didn’t appear at all…

“Brado, you’re here! Thank goodness. It’s just in time. I hope you can help us. Hurry to the west side. Moro is in charge of today’s battles there—go assist him. The east side with Nagran is complicated; I’ll work with the general to hold off the enemy in the center. Damn those magical beasts!

The number of dragons has increased to five, and there are even three quasi-divine-level magical beasts and one divine-level unicorn! It seems they’re determined to make a final stand this time. Hurry up! We rely on you!” As soon as he arrived at the city walls, he saw another commander of the Black Tooth Legion rushing over with a small team, apparently called back temporarily to assist with defense. Rod had forgotten his name, vaguely recalling it to be something like Nadar.

Hearing his words, Rod didn’t have time to hesitate. The west side, once considered the weakest defensive area, now required troops to be sent back—clearly, the situation had become extremely critical! Today’s battle formation had changed significantly. Rod understood some of the reasons and hurriedly led his comrades westward.

The city walls presented a chaotic scene. After days of fighting and bloodshed, the walls had become a sea of blood. Wide rivers of blood flowed down toward the city below, splashing blood droplets with every step. The intense stench of blood made people feel dizzy. Yet it was precisely this atmosphere that greatly stimulated the passion and bloodthirst of the magical beasts, making them extremely excited.

Groans and screams filled the air everywhere! At every moment, people were injured, lives were lost, and magical beasts could be seen everywhere on the city walls. Unexpectedly, two giant dragons appeared again during the day, along with divine-level unicorns—six divine-level magical beasts and three quasi-divine-level ones. These eight forces seemed to be the main cause of the casualties. Even if the three divine-level warriors joined forces, they could probably only deal with about a dozen of those beasts; facing six of them would be extremely difficult for them, and even five would already pose a huge challenge.

Looking at the situation outside the city, the beast horde was rampant, with cruel scenes everywhere. After nearly ten days of fighting, the beasts had gone mad—they couldn’t stop eating. The dead magical beasts had become their best food. All over the city, there were beasts devouring the corpses of their own kind after battle, and even those severely injured were not spared, becoming targets for their attacks. The scene was chilling and terrifying! These were beasts, devoid of any humanity!

Fighting his way forward, Rod led the seventy brothers who had still been able to fight alongside him to this day toward the west. Yesterday, there had been nearly a hundred of them; after one night, the number of deaths and serious injuries had risen to nearly thirty. Even among the seventy present now, more than half were injured to some extent, with less than half completely unharmed. Their combat strength had significantly declined compared to yesterday.

As they fought their way forward, under the aggressive lead of Rod, Keroth, Nightingale, and Skora, they killed many magical beasts. Today, Rod deliberately made the Dark Dragons more bloodthirsty—obtaining three thousand lives from those beasts was the best way; otherwise, he really didn’t know where to get so many lives! Attacking humans wasn’t on his mind for now. Although he had been deeply hurt recently and had lost hope in the continent under relentless pursuit, he wasn’t yet willing to commit such insane acts. After all, having lived in this society for so long, he still had feelings—those couldn’t be completely extinguished overnight.

Nightingale also exceeded Rod’s expectations. After a day’s rest, she became even more formidable in battle, seemingly having made further progress and nearly reaching the late imperial level, showing a clear improvement over before.

Soon, with the charge of the four of them and the support of those behind them, they reached the most core and dangerous area in the west.

“The Death Squad… they’re here!” A cry of alarm came from somewhere unknown first!
“It’s them, the Death Scythe Team!”
“The Death Mercenaries!”
“The Death Mercenary Group!” Soon after, excited voices could be heard coming from various directions. The appearance of this group quickly caught everyone’s attention!
“Death” had become synonymous with Rod and his companions. Having killed over a thousand monsters yesterday with less than thirty losses, their record had earned them the recognition and respect of all. “Death” was the best testament to how highly they were regarded!
The group wasn’t bothered at all by such a nickname; instead, they gladly accepted it. Especially those like Curly Hair—far from feeling awkward, they were thrilled, shouting loudly and fighting even harder.
For mercenaries and adventurers like them, such a nickname wasn’t mockery but rather recognition. To be acknowledged and respected by others was a source of pride and honor, especially on such a fierce battlefield, which filled them with pride.
“Our comrades’ blood is flowing; we stand on their corpses, covered in the enemy’s blood. As countless comrades perish, this nickname is bestowed upon us. Since it’s been accepted by everyone, we must work harder. With this title, we must live up to it—Death! Let’s perform a symphony of despair and make these monsters taste fear!” Seizing the moment of enthusiasm, Rod encouraged them promptly.
His words stirred up a wave of excitement, acting like a catalyst that fueled everyone’s fighting spirit as they charged forward with roaring intensity, their momentum burning like flames.
Just as yesterday, they operated like guerrillas, appearing wherever the danger was greatest. Once again, they demonstrated astonishing combat skills and resilience. Their reduced numbers didn’t weaken them; instead, it fueled their determination even more. Under Rod’s leadership, they wreaked havoc. In less than half an hour, countless monsters—well over a hundred—had died at their hands. Yet their outstanding performance couldn’t stop the monsters’ frenzy. The insane beasts weren’t afraid of death, and its relentless attacks caused them huge trouble. At that moment, roars coming from afar made Rod’s heart sink. His brows furrowed as a strong sense of crisis and unease arose.