Chapter 2: The Gale Squad

For many, this snowy and stormy night was one of busy activity. Neo meditated in a quiet corner, preparing for healing once dawn came, with White Socks by his side—being the first mount to enter Slord Keep was a great honor in itself.
Reinvigorated, Valentina gave up sleep to prepare with her people for the eastward migration. Though she lacked any particularly outstanding life skills, she had organizational abilities and could also act as a strongman-level porter.
In Winter Green Valley, Xavier, in good spirits after waking up, ate some honeyed porridge before continuing to discuss matters with Ebut and Dave, refusing to rest even past midnight. Neither Ebut, Dave, nor Milien could persuade him to stop; they could only accompany him.
From listening to the events of recent days, asking questions, to issuing new orders, Xavier wasn’t in a hurry to reclaim his lordly powers, but he had already begun to significantly influence the team’s structure and strategies.
Xavier’s orders were never questioned. To Dave and Ebut’s relief, he wasn’t hasty. Although he disapproved of the “Dave regime’s” wasteful spending, he chose to observe first and gradually make changes, adopting a more gradual approach.
Besides those who were working hard, there were also those who stayed awake in the middle of the night, exploring in the snowstorm. A small figure, surrounded by a human-shaped shadow twice its size, flew almost at ground level, visiting the first and second battlefields Neo had been to, and finally tracking down Quian. From atop the mountain, they observed from afar for a while before leaving.
Others who preferred to be active at night also stayed awake. They had just suffered a complete defeat, and no one was in a good mood.
It was a cold cave. The icy wind carrying snowflakes from outside constantly challenged the green flames emitting black smoke from the brazier, causing the shadows inside to flicker, making the atmosphere even gloomier.
Fad wore a large, luxurious yet tasteless silk nightgown. Holding a palette in one hand and a paintbrush in the other, he was focused on painting—a nude young woman’s body.
Her trembling eyelashes, slight breathing, and involuntary shivering all proved she was still alive. She was doing her best to meet Fad’s demands; anger, shame, even the pain of cold—everything now seemed distant.
Below the platform, or rather in the large depression at the center of the cave, Fad’s dark minions were equally silent, not daring to breathe.
Not long ago, the last demonized warrior who had participated in the daytime battle died. Over the past ten-odd hours, this warrior had died a difficult death. By the end, he probably hated himself for his tenacity, for not dying early like the other escaped demonized warriors.

Fourteen demonized beings, fourteen hanging paintings—all on these cave walls, striking and highly decorative. There were scenes of skinning, disemboweling, gouging out eyes and tongues, pulling out hearts and intestines. The smell of blood mixed with feces still lingered strongly in the cave, a pungent scent that invigorated those around.

After finishing the last stroke, Fad stepped back, tilted his head to take a look, then grinned in satisfaction. Standing up straight, he used his blackened, withered hands with arrow-sharp fingertips to pat the woman’s cheek and said with a smile, “Very good. I like things that satisfy me, whether they’re people or anything else. Go eat. Remember, don’t spoil my paintings!”

“Thank you for your grace, my lord!” Under the threat of death and with a precedent set, anyone who wasn’t an idiot could quickly learn how to survive. This woman was no exception. About two hours earlier, she had witnessed firsthand how an ungrateful demonized being was tortured to death, so now she was very polite.

Fad chuckled, turned to his dark minions below, and said, “See? With effort, even a naive woman can do well. Don’t tell me you’re worse than her. Remember, use your brains next time you go on a mission!”

“Yes, my lord!”

Severe punishment came not from failure but from stupidity. The dark minions knew this lesson had finally been learned.

The snowstorm lasted almost the entire night, and the next day was a typical winter haze day. The sun rose, but it seemed distant and weak, with a hazy gray covering the sky, dulling the blue color and emphasizing the severity of the cold.

In the knightly domain of Mathuya, in the village of Kuan.

In an open area, several children were playing and chasing each other. A snowman had already been built—slightly lopsided but full of childlike charm. The children’s cheeks were red from the cold, but they were having fun. Their innocent laughter drew gentle looks from the passing villagers.

“They’re more energetic than the children of Bitures.” Though tired,Neo’s mind was still active. Comparing the children, he was thinking about a deeper issue of balance: how to improve the living standards of the villagers while preserving their simple customs as much as possible.

“That’s one of the things the people of Mathuya can be proud of.” Valentina also watched the children, pondering practical issues of livelihood.

Wealth—this concept had long troubled her and her father. The people of Mathuya were hardworking and resilient, but life remained hard from top to bottom. Their weak economic strength meant they had little resilience, especially in the face of natural disasters or human misfortunes. It could be said that if Mathuya suffered the same disasters as Bitures, its only outcome would be collapse.

Hearing Valentina’s words defending Mathuya once again,Neo smiled without saying much more.

To lower oneself and become a profit-driven person was seen as an insult by some traditional knights, yet they had to scramble to make a living for themselves and their subjects, especially when compared to the prosperous lives of people in other territories, and they lacked the skills to manage finances or become wealthy… It’s easy to imagine how painful it must be to struggle between dignity and reality, worried that even by becoming despicable one might not earn enough money.

Walking in silence back to the stronghold,Neo said he needed rest, and Valentina thanked him again.Neo used the Life Touch six times and the weaker Life Beads eight times, significantly improving Mathuya’s condition. SinceNeo requested confidentiality, it was only Valentina who could express everyone’s gratitude.

“This blizzard is the driving force behind the aliens’ death hunts,”Neo reminded her as they parted.

Humans tried to stay indoors to escape the winter cold, but the aliens, driven by hunger and death, often had no choice but to face the cold. Strong male aliens would hunt before their strength waned, leaving little food for females and young ones, taking only a small amount with them. If they failed to catch anything, the consequences were obvious—this was a death hunt, where only one, either the prey or the hunter, could survive.

As a military expert, Valentina knew something about the enemies in the surrounding areas. She was aware of whatNeo meant by death hunts. From this, she easily deduced an important point: the situation was constantly changing. Destroying the Cordim beastmen twice was indeed a powerful display of force, but it no longer served as a deterrent. On the contrary, it only made the aliens realize there was a formidable obstacle here, and in order to survive, they might ignore just how difficult it was to overcome!

“We don’t have oak barrels to use, no enough craftsmen, and not enough materials to keep warm!” Valentina said, feeling her cheeks burn. Weakness! She had shown her weakness again. Though she didn’t look down on this young werewolf because of his status, such situations had only happened before with her father…

“Miss Srod, Mathuya could try to unite more closely with Tures. Personally, I think there are only two camps on this borderland now: the enemies and the people of Erdrite.”

Valentina understood whatNeo meant. “Yes, we’re all people of Erdrite’s realm…”

When she woke up, it was already afternoon. After getting ready,Neo heard three good news items. The first came from White Socks—a fine hunter. He had gone out during the day, not only bringing back enough fireweed but also hunting two snow rabbits and a lost large deer on the plains.Neo praised him generously, and Miss White Socks was quite proud. Especially when passing by Black Boots’ stable, she looked down disdainfully at the magnificent dark-hoofed white horse. “Hmph! Look at those good-for-nothing idiots who are locked up in cages all day, relying on others for food…”

The second piece of good news came from Ebut. He and over 50 militia members were arguably the busiest people in Tures today. First, they returned to Croop to gather supplies mainly consisting of clothing for the Mathuyas. Then, along with a group of craftsmen, they went to Quian and subsequently to the First and Second battlefields to retrieve all the frozen meat, which is now ready to be loaded onto vehicles. They will join the first group of Mathuya migrants and the supply convoy to meet up with the Tures migration group heading east.

According to Ebut, in the morning, Valentina met with Xavier, and the two sides reached a mutual assistance agreement. However, the representative from Tures remains Div; Xavier has not spread the news of his awakening.

The third piece of good news was brought by Valentina. She told Neo that after discussions among her, Xavier, and Div, it was unanimously agreed that he was now the leader of the Swift Squad. He has 15 Mathuya militia members under his command, plus 9 bandits. All three believe that with Neo’s abilities, he can manage these people.

Although just from hearing about these subordinates, Neo could tell there were many problems with these 24 people, he was still happy. It was a good opportunity for training. For this team, there were only expectations, no strict rules—he could fully apply the theoretical knowledge he had learned to practice, assess its advantages and disadvantages, and there was no need to worry if things went wrong, as there was no pressure.

Around dusk, Neo met with his team members at the temporary camp in Winter Green Valley.

The Tures migration group had already set up camp about 20 kilometers east. The temporary camp was in disarray, and those over 20 people seemed abandoned as well, lying around haphazardly beside a small pile of supplies, with 6 weak horses standing nearby, poking around foolishly. This was the entire Swift Squad.

“Meeting you again, Dick,” Neo said, scanning the messy group with his eyes. He ignored the others and greeted Dick, who he was more familiar with.

Neo first met Dick during the first night raid on Quian. Later, they fought together against the Cordim tracking team and also battled against the Dark Claws, making them comrades-in-arms through adversity.

“Captain,” Dick said, straightening up and giving a soldier’s salute. Dick was 22 years old, had spent several years wandering, was quite independent, but lacked any special skills. He made a living by doing odd jobs and manual labor. He instinctively felt a sense of closeness and admiration for strong people, especially ones like Neo who came from humble backgrounds.

Neo smiled. “Can you read or write?”

“No,” Dick replied loudly.

“Tch!” A few people snickered. In Frey, there were few young people who could still speak so confidently despite being illiterate.

Dick blushed slightly, glanced at those who were laughing, and said nothing. Of the 15 people Valentina assigned this time, almost all were problematic. Dick had already made up his mind to stick closely to Neo and ignore everything else.

“Alright, then I’ll read, and you help count the supplies,” Neo said.

“Shh!” A rowdy young man whistled. “So we have a literate slave here!”

Neo turned to the young man. “Are you ready?”

“What?”
Bang! Neo had already rushed over and kicked the young man in the chest with such force that it lifted the slouching youth off the ground. Before he could land, Neo’s other foot was there. The young man didn’t go completely unprepared and tried to defend against Neo’s second kick, but failed. Neo’s series of kicks were far more powerful than he had imagined. The young man rolled like a ball and flew sideways, crashing into the snow several meters away.
Surprisingly, the guy was quite tough—after falling, he still tried to get up and fight back. Neo stepped forward, grabbed his right arm, twisted it behind his back, then stepped on his head and neck, pressing his face into the snow. Now, no matter how hard the young man struggled, he couldn’t get up.
The young man remained defiant, still trying to fight, but his right arm was twisted painfully, and his head was firmly pressed down, leaving him unable to exert any strength. With another push from Neo, he finally couldn’t help but scream in pain.
Most of the people remained calm. A few stepped forward to make a fuss, aiming to assert dominance—after all, it was just a warning, nothing serious. A few even seemed to think, “It’s not that big of a deal!”
Neo calmly scanned the crowd, mentally noting everyone’s expressions, then spoke, “The first rule of the squad: never criticize Shangguan in front of him.”
Some raised their eyebrows, thinking this rule was quite domineering. They had assumed Neo would adopt a balanced approach—first dealing with the troublemakers, then becoming close to everyone. Most lower-ranking officers in the army did this, working together as comrades, valuing camaraderie; being isolated would be disastrous. But it seemed Neo intended to maintain a distance, showing an air of superiority. “What kind of approach is this? Going for iron-fisted rule?”
Neo released his grip, leaving the beaten young man gasping for air. “What’s your name?” he asked, pointing at a clearly thinner young man.
“T…Tony!” The young man was clearly afraid of Neo, shocked by his immediate tendency to hit without warning.
“Hmm. Can you read?”
“Not very much,” Tony replied cautiously.
“Come here.” Neo waved him over.
Tony shuddered visibly. At that moment, the young man who had been scolded by Neo got to his knees and spat on the ground. “Scared of a weakling!”
Neo turned to him again. “There’s a saying in the arena: If you want to survive, you must first learn to admit defeat.”
“You’re not even worthy of that,” the young man shouted, his eyes red.
Neo nodded. “Are you ready?”
This time, the young man understood what was meant. Before Neo could act, he rushed at him first. But Neo was far faster, moving swiftly and closing in on him in an instant.
At that moment, the silent, dark-skinned strongman in the crowd let out a roar and charged forward. He seemed heavy and clumsy, but his movements weren’t slow at all, and his punches were fierce, accompanied by a howling wind sound.
Bang! Boom!

The first strike was when Neo pressed the knuckle of his right index finger against the young man’s right rib. The second strike was when Neo exchanged punches with the dark-skinned strongman using his left fist. Neo performed a backward somersault and landed steadily, while the dark-skinned strongman staggered back seven or eight steps, nearly falling, his right hand that had punched Neo constantly flexing and tightening—clearly the punch had caused him great discomfort.
Ahh…
Ah…
The young man hit in the ribs could no longer remain as tough as before; the intense pain made him roll around on the ground, ignoring the snow covering his body and face. Neo knew well the human organs, vital points, and pain-sensitive areas. During his time in the juvenile gladiator camp, his instructor had used similar methods to discipline his defiant attitude, and his performance back then wasn’t much better than the young man’s now.
Ignoring the dark-skinned strongman who was helping out, Neo waved at Tony again.
The screams of the young man rolling on the ground made Tony fear Neo even more, but this time he hesitated little. At Neo’s call, he stepped forward.
“Look at this document. If you don’t understand anything, ask me.” Neo took out a neatly folded sheet of thick parchment from his chest and handed it to Tony, then pointed at another member. “What’s your name?”
“Reporting to the captain, my name is Hagen. I’m a resident of Solis City and was once part of Squad 2, Third Company of Solis City’s guard.” Hagen seemed like an obedient commoner, and his response indicated he had some military knowledge.
Neo pointed at an older man who appeared somewhat thin, had a pale complexion, and messy beard, and asked, “Your name?”
“Mach!” The old man’s voice was as cold as his expression.
Neo nodded and turned to Tony. “How about it? Any difficulties?”
Tony shook his head and shrugged. “No.”
“Good. Tony, Dick, Hagen, Mach—you four are responsible for checking and verifying our supplies. Report to me once it’s done.”
“Oh!”
“Yes!”
“Okay.”
The four gave different responses, with one staying silent.
Neo didn’t care. These four were either willing to follow orders or too timid to defy them. There was also one who was good at holding back and wouldn’t easily show anger—information he had gained by observing during his first attempt to deal with that unyielding guy. These were the first group of members he needed.
There weren’t many supplies in total, so the four finished counting them in no time. There were no shortages, matching the records.
24 people, 6 tents, some food, some fodder, one set of blankets and mats per person, plus small items like tableware. Neo ordered Dick to take out one tent, four sets of blankets and mats along with the small items, then collect all the fodder. He allocated 20 standard portions of food and left them there, ignoring the rest of the people. He only told Dick and the four others to set up camp near a smaller ice wall.
Setting up tents, building temporary stables, lighting a campfire, cooking food… Neo directed and participated personally. Dick and Hagen had considerable experience in field camping, and Mach was an expert. Only Tony was a bit clumsy, but he could handle simple tasks like gathering firewood, lighting a fire, and assisting with setting up tents.

“Damn, what does this mean? Are we being ignored?” someone among the rest complained.
“Fuck it, I’m not giving a damn about this kid’s mood. Let’s go back to the base!”
“Save it! Have you forgotten what Miss Srod said when we left?” one of the Mathutha militiamen sneered. Though they were rough and rebellious, they were still deeply impressed by Valentina’s rules and strictness.
“It’s already dark. When will we make it back 20 kilometers? If we have to go, it’ll be early tomorrow morning.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” another Mathutha militiaman said. “Without the old butcher, do we have to eat pig with its hair on? Is it that hard to set up camp, live, and cook? We can do it, and we can do it well. We can even arrange night watch—what’s the big deal?”
“Right! Right!” the other militiamen agreed.Neo acting so high and mighty made these militiamen feel united against him. They helped the young man who had been beaten byNeo to one side and got busy with their tasks. As for those bandits, they didn’t know them and ignored them.
“What should we do?” one of the bandits asked his companion.
“What do you think? Of course, we start a fire and cook!” the strong man Witz shouted.
“Shut up. Who do you think you are? Why such a fuss?” the bandit glared at Witz disdainfully.
Zakli, the leader of the Black Tooth bandits, had three trusted subordinates: Lo, who died in a shootout withNeo; Hogenes, who slept alone in the Croop village hall and was later killed publicly by Dihusband along with Zakli; and Witz, who, thanks to his strong physique and thick skin, served as Zakli’s right-hand man—or rather, tool.
In the bandit incident, Witz was hit in both calves by two arrows fromNeo and still couldn’t get up. The other bandits were free men from Solis City, essentially forced to follow Zakli’s orders. Whenever Zakli disliked someone, he would have Witz use violence against them. Naturally, they had no good feelings for Witz. Only the kind-hearted Hagen took care of him. Now that Hagen was gone, no one would treat Witz kindly anymore.
Witz fell silent. He was just rough around the edges and tended to forget things after doing something, but he wasn’t really stupid. Besides, since he was injured, his former subordinates had mocked and ridiculed him, and he had even caused trouble, ending up unable to walk—earning his own humiliation. After several such incidents, even a rough man like him learned his lesson. Witz wasn’t always in charge; he too had suffered and endured hardship. Now that he was in this situation, he had to endure it.
Witz endured, but the other bandits couldn’t. There was no other reason—these Mathutha militiamen weren’t good people. They had taken two extra sets of blankets and furs, along with four portions of food.

The bandits were now furious and went to argue with the Mathias militia. The militia started arguing, and things escalated into shouting and fighting. Nineteen militia members were taken away by Neo, leaving twelve. There were nine bandits, and the cowardly Hagen was called away to become a civilian, leaving eight. Subtracting Wittz and the one beaten by Neo, as well as the burly man who exchanged punches with Neo, the count became 10 to 7—a small difference, but enough to spark a fight. The anger grew, and somehow, both sides drew their swords.

At that moment, Neo stepped forward, wielding his dull gun made from materials left over from the Soul Tomb, using it like a club to beat the already exhausted militia and bandits into disarray.

“Take away their weapons!” Neo ordered. Dick and Mah took action, confiscating weapons from both sides, not even sparing daggers.

“Go on!” Neo said before leaving with Dick and Mah to resume their ordinary lives.

After being thoroughly beaten, exhausted and in pain, how could they continue? Both groups resented each other and despised Neo even more. Unable to fight and having no way to vent their anger on Neo, the unlucky burly man and Wittz stayed out of the fight. As for those first dealt with by Neo, they were seen as tough guys, but their absence from the battle was due to forces beyond their control.

The burly man faced mockery and exclusion from his peers, while Wittz suffered even more—he didn’t even get dinner. In the words of the bandits, “You didn’t do anything—why should we serve you?”

Neo’s group quickly set up a small ice enclosure. As night fell, the smell of cooked food filled the small iron pot over the campfire. While the five of them ate roasted, fragrant bread dipped in savory soup, the other two groups were still struggling to cook and set up camp.

It was already dark, visibility was poor, and work efficiency dropped significantly. The night wind blew, temperatures dropped sharply, and with empty stomachs and injuries, the task became extremely difficult. To make matters worse, they could smell the delicious food from Neo’s side and see the bright campfire, which made them even more frustrated.

“Damn, even those weak horses are living better than us!” someone complained resentfully.

“Then go beg for food!” someone retorted.

“Pfft, what’s the big deal? Just a meal, right? Guys, push harder! Soon our side will be more lively than theirs! Oh, be careful—my arm was just beaten!” …

The Wind Team, without any means of transportation, consisting of bandits and scum, along with a young werewolf leader, had only just begun to work together…