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墨書 Inktalez
The army moved slowly through the winding valley. The towering cliffs on either side obscured most of the sunlight, and as the troops delved deeper, the light grew dimmer, enveloping the air in an invisible sense of oppression. To navigate the narrow and twisting mountain path, the army had to break their once orderly formation into several smaller units, each cautiously advancing along different routes.
The formation stretched out, and the soldiers' steps slowed to a near crawl, each movement appearing unusually careful. The faint clinking of metal armor plates echoed through the valley, intertwining with occasional whispers, yet failing to mask the deep-seated fear of the unknown. Small stones slipped from the cliff's edge, producing subtle cracking sounds before vanishing into the unfathomable depths below, their echoes a distant omen for the army's fate.
An eerie and oppressive atmosphere settled over the troops. Each soldier gripped their weapon tightly, eyes scanning their surroundings with vigilance. They all understood that if enemies lay in ambush in such terrain, the consequences would be dire—one misstep could bury the entire army within this valley.
In the center of the army, within a palanquin, Feng Huo sat with his eyes closed and hands resting calmly on his knees, seemingly indifferent to everything outside. His expression was steady and composed, his breathing even, as if he had sunk into a profound meditation.
In stark contrast to Feng Huo's calm demeanor was Yan Kong, seated opposite him. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, brow furrowed as he occasionally glanced toward the shadow-covered path outside the curtain of the palanquin. Worry was evident in his expression; his fingers unconsciously rubbed against the hilt of his dagger at his waist, as if that tactile reassurance could provide him with some comfort.
"It's too quiet here..." Yan Kong finally murmured, a hint of unease lacing his tone. His gaze lingered on a large boulder in the distance, as if it might roll down at any moment and crush their entire unit.
Feng Huo opened one eye to glance at him, a barely perceptible smile playing at his lips. "What are you worried about?" His voice was low and calm, almost reproaching Yan Kong for his anxiety.
"In a place like this... anything can happen," Yan Kong replied, frustration creeping into his voice. "Do you know what our chances would be if they were lying in wait above us?"
Feng Huo chuckled softly and closed his eyes again. "Yan Kong, you should learn to enjoy this tranquility; every moment of peace on the battlefield is worth cherishing." His voice was disturbingly calm, as if completely oblivious to the pressure and danger that loomed in the valley.
Yan Kong fell silent again, merely lowering his head with a snort of disdain while keeping his gaze fixed outside the palanquin's curtain. A low bird call echoed from afar—long and eerie—resonating through the valley and heightening the tension in the air. He tightened his grip on the dagger hilt, feeling every nerve in his body taut as if bracing for an impending storm.
Just as Yan Kong forced himself to calm down and suppress his inner turmoil, his enhanced hearing caught an unusual sound. It was a faint scraping noise from afar, like something sliding rapidly over stone; it grew closer and louder, accompanied by a tremendous sense of vibration. His pupils dilated sharply as alarm bells rang in his mind.
"Something's wrong..." Yan Kong murmured under his breath before drawing his blade with a sharp metallic sound that shattered the silence inside the palanquin. He kicked open the palanquin's door and looked up to see a massive boulder hurtling down from the mountainside at high speed, accompanied by a deafening rush of wind as it bore down upon their ranks.
"Be careful! We're under attack!" Yan Kong shouted, his voice booming and echoing throughout the valley.
His warning caught the attention of the soldiers, who looked up with expressions of fear and confusion. However, before the Army could fully react, a red light flashed from the steep cliff as a massive boulder fell—this was not sunlight reflecting off the rocks, but a swarm of blazing fire wheels!
"Flame Rider Squad!" Yan Kong cursed under his breath, anger and vigilance evident in his tone. His gaze was fixed on the figures rapidly descending from the cliff.
Yang Chuan's Flame Rider Squad rode on fiery wheels that glowed like burning flames in the dim valley. Their silhouettes were straight and imposing, each wielding two scorching energy rifles. Every pull of the trigger unleashed a wave of intense heat. They descended like demons from hell, shielded by the falling boulders, charging down the cliff at an incredible speed.
The soldiers were thrown into chaos; some tried to break formation and retreat, while others instinctively raised their shields. But the narrow mountain path left them no escape, and everything descended into utter confusion.
"Damn Yang Chuan's men..." Yan Kong gritted his teeth, his mind racing to devise a countermeasure. He leaped out from the Palanquin, his blade glinting coldly in the sunlight. His eyes locked onto the descending enemies, a familiar battle fervor surging within him.
"Prepare to engage!" he roared, his voice like thunder cutting through the chaos. He knew this would be a fight with no way out, and he had to carve a bloody path through this ambush; otherwise, the entire Army would be buried here.
In mere seconds, the battlefield erupted into chaos, as if a meticulously arranged symphony had suddenly turned into a cacophony of noise. The Flame Rider Squad descended with boulders in tow; their flaming wheels scorched the mountain path, leaving behind charred marks. The impact of the boulders carried destructive force, scattering unfortunate soldiers in all directions. Some soldiers didn’t even have time to scream before being crushed and swept into the bottomless valley.
"Ahhh—!" The cries echoed endlessly, like mournful winds reverberating through the valley. The Flame Knight Soldiers charged down from the cliff like malevolent spirits, weaving through the panicked crowd as their energy rifles flickered with deadly light, igniting everything in their path. The entire mountain path was instantly filled with sounds of battle and wails of despair; clashing swords mixed with explosions made it hard to discern direction.
Yan Kong stood beside the Palanquin, his gaze sharp as he quickly scanned his surroundings. The din of battle filled his ears, yet he remained remarkably calm inside. He raised his blade and swiftly struck down a Yangchuan Soldier attempting to approach the Palanquin. The soldier's fire wheel lost control mid-fall and crashed against a nearby rock wall, sending shards flying along with a spray of blood.
"Hold the Palanquin! Don’t let them get close!" Yan Kong shouted above the turmoil. He swung his blade, directing the guards near the Palanquin to form a defensive line. The guards reacted quickly, raising their shields to create an impromptu barrier that surrounded the Palanquin and repelled assaults from all sides.
At that moment, the robotic bearers also activated their defensive mode. Their mechanical arms extended rapidly as their internal shield systems powered up; alloy shields sprang forth from their hands to firmly protect all sides of the Palanquin. They sank slightly into position on the ground, standing firm like an unyielding steel fortress.
Yan Kong's blade was as swift as lightning, slicing through another enemy's chest, blood splattering onto the Dark Red armor. His gaze was sharp as an eagle's, fixed on the approaching foes without a hint of hesitation. He understood that the key to victory in this battle lay in maintaining control over the center of the Palanquin and ensuring Feng Huo's safety; otherwise, the entire team could collapse in an instant.
"Step any closer, and I'll send you straight to hell!" Yan Kong roared, his voice laced with an undeniable killing intent. His blade gleamed coldly, a harbinger of death, wreaking havoc among the Yangchuan Soldiers. His breath came in quick gasps, yet his grip on the knife remained steady, mercilessly slaying every enemy that dared approach the Palanquin.
The battlefield remained chaotic, with cries of anguish rising and falling like a haunting melody, blood and flames intertwining to create a brutal tableau. Amidst this turmoil, Yan Kong's figure stood out like a razor-sharp blade, ruthlessly cutting through the enemy's assault on the Palanquin.
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