Chining jogged ahead, the grumbling Grand Commander trailing behind.
Soon, he led him to the battlefield's edge.
Seeing Chining stop, the Grand Commander felt oddly unsettled.
"Hey! Why'd you stop?"
"Because I intend to settle our duel right here."
"Hmm..."
The Grand Commander scanned the area, noticing few soldiers.
His expression instantly turned strange.
"Playing tricks on me?"
"With so few people, isn't it perfect for a one-on-one?"
"Hmm... makes sense. Hah! Let's fight!"
Chining realized this guy was simple-minded and tricked him easily.
[The trick worked astonishingly well—he hadn't grasped the situation at all...]
Chining thought mischievously to himself.
Not only had Alto turned wicked, but Chining seemed quite bad now too.
"Well then! Battle!"
Chining declared his duel challenge.
Though he'd tricked the Grand Commander, Chining would never sully a sacred one-on-one with underhanded tricks.
This man had cleaved Mentu's earth-shattering arrow in half—a monster demanding full focus.
Their horses paced slowly, ten feet apart.
Both gripped their weapons tightly.
Neither struck first; stillness to counter movement was a classic duel tactic.
Wearing down patience made opponents error-prone later.
Clearly, the Grand Commander's patience was far weaker than Chining's—he couldn't hold back.
He knew losing patience without attacking would expose flaws; better to strike now!
"Hah! Take this axe!"
The Grand Commander swung his long-handled axe down fiercely.
Inner Energy surged through the blade, stirring wind.
Chining's strength was far inferior—he couldn't survive three direct hits.
But his skill could compensate for weak power!
Chining's blade precisely struck the axe's weak point, deflecting the swing.
"Thud!"
The axe missed the ground, yet shockwaves cracked the earth open.
"Tch, not bad!"
"Acknowledged!"
"Bookish guy, again! Again!"
The Grand Commander spun his great axe.
The whirlwind stirred a gale, faintly forming a black tiger's shadow.
Watching the beast charge like a war chariot, Chining's nerves snapped taut.
One small mistake, and he'd be half-dead...
The Grand Commander's explosive Inner Energy choked Chining's breath—nearly twice his own power.
No flashy moves, yet enough to crush all elegance.
This was brute force overpowering skill.
The Grand Commander had no openings; only a frontal assault would work.
Chining closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
"[Dragon Song]!"
Crimson light flared from his blade.
A crimson dragon shot like a meteor toward the raging beast.
The instant their weapons clashed—
The ground shattered; flying stones injured distant fighters.
The unstoppable [Dragon Song] was deflected by the spinning axe with a "clang," sparks flying.
After the deflection, the Grand Commander's axe halted too.
But the fight wasn't over.
Suddenly, Chining's Red Steed screamed in pain.
[What!?]
His warhorse was bitten by the opposing black horse!
The horses tore at each other—the black one dominating the Red Steed.
Even the horses are monsters!
Chining yanked the reins, rescuing his steed from the vicious bite.
"Refreshing! Again! Again!"
The Grand Commander liked this refined man—he'd never met someone bold enough to face him head-on.
He was eager to keep fighting.
"..."
Chining was speechless; this dark-skinned brute seemed completely unharmed.
Though Chining was uninjured, he felt he'd lose if they continued.
"Whoosh"
An arrow shot straight at the Grand Commander.
"Tch, it's him."
The Grand Commander swatted the arrow away, glaring at archer Mentu.
"Lord Chining, retreat! Don't fall here!"
"Hah, Red Steed, go!"
Chining knew the stakes—if he died here, Baha Balm's three thousand would be annihilated.
"Hmm..."
Watching Chining flee, the Grand Commander didn't pursue. Chasing risked death.
Though that archer covered him, he knew pursuit would expose a fatal opening.
That earlier arrow piercing the battlefield had tasted like death; his right arm, which blocked it, still throbbed fiercely.
He'd gritted his teeth through the pain while fighting Chining.
Though not brilliant, the Grand Commander sensed battlefields keenly.
[This...]
Snapping back, he saw his army's state—his face darkened.
Bandits were wounded or fleeing; front-line troops were sparse, utterly crushed.
Ten thousand reserves remained in the rear, but it meant nothing now.
His bandit group was doomed.
Without his leadership, they fought terribly—when enemy units charged in formation, they retreated instead of counterattacking, leading to annihilation.
[Disaster! I must run!]
The Grand Commander decided to flee.
