The fireballs of Meteor Fire Rain burst open in the sky. Dozens of fiery streaks smashed down toward Ink Village.

One streak shot straight at Yan Yi and the others. Yan Yi and Mo Ping reacted instantly. Mo Ping stepped forward, chanted a spell, and an ice shield appeared. Simultaneously, Yan Yi shielded Mo Qing.

BOOM—

The window shattered as the streak slammed onto the ice shield. Meteor Fire Rain was a low-tier spell, its power already dispersed. The shield held intact. But the explosion’s shockwave leveled the entire hall.

“I’ll check the situation. You all go to safety!”

Mo Ping dispelled the ice shield and leaped out through the charred window frame. Meteor Fire Rain wasn’t very powerful—its strength lay in wide coverage. Villagers should be fine if not directly hit. But Mo Ping worried deeply. Ink Village was remote. Its isolation usually meant safety. Now it was under attack.

Yan Yi watched Mo Ping’s retreating back and frowned. If only one person or beast attacked, he wouldn’t fear much. Mo Ping was peak Class C. But raiding a whole village? Could it really be one bored man? Yan Yi’s heart skipped a beat. That fear wasn’t for enemies—it was for losing someone close.

“Little Yi, hurry out! Then run to the village center. A small defensive formation is there. There might be injured—I must help!” Mo Qing said firmly. She ignored Mo Ping’s shelter advice. As village head’s wife, she had to act.

Yan Yi shook his head. He couldn’t let Mo Qing get hurt. “Auntie, I’ll go with you. Don’t worry—I have some strength.”

Mo Qing nodded. Surviving alone in the forest proved Yan Yi’s power. No time to argue. Every second was dangerous!

…

Meanwhile, on a small hill on Shan outside Ink Village, over ten men stood. The magic circle on one wand faded. Watching flames and black smoke rise from the village, he laughed loudly.

“Hahaha, boss! This spell feels amazing. Can I cast more?”

The boss was a blue-haired youth in his twenties, a vicious scar across his face. He looked menacing, his voice icy.

“Stop. It’s a small village, but burning it all wastes our effort. Move in now. Take what you can. Kill who you must. Grab women if you want—but I doubt this backwater has beauties.”

“Haha, boss, you’re wrong! You get Class C or B women. We can’t!” another added, licking his dagger.

“Fine. Do as you please.” The boss waved his hand. The dozen men charged out.

This bandit leader, the blue-haired scarred youth, was once a mercenary. He’d killed teammates to survive a mission. Hunted by the Mercenary Guild, he teleported to Central City, then fled deep into the forest. He gathered outlaws, subduing them with his Class B strength—most were Class D, two Class C. They raided small villages ignored by big cities. They’d already left two villages in blood. Finding Ink Village, they craved the thrill of killing and looting. All agreed to hit it hard.

…

The bandits moved fast, storming into Ink Village in mere breaths. They scattered instantly for maximum looting efficiency.

After Meteor Fire Rain, no one died in Ink Village, but injuries mounted. Houses burned fiercely. Children’s cries filled the air.

One bandit spotted a woman supporting an injured middle-aged man toward the village center. His leg and shoulder were crushed—likely by a collapsing house.

The bandit cackled and charged. The woman screamed, hurling a large fireball.

But with no combat training, her basic magic couldn’t land. The bandit sidestepped easily, dagger raised to stab both.

The man’s eyes hardened. He shoved the woman away with his good arm, turned painfully, flames erupting from his limb—he’d fight head-on.

He was Class D, but heavily injured. No chance against the bandit. Suddenly, an ice sword flew at the attacker. The bandit deflected it with his dagger. But right after, an ice spear pierced his throat. He stared wide-eyed at Mo Ping—the thrower—then collapsed.

“A-Ping!” “Village Head!”

The couple, spared death, were overjoyed.

“No time! Run to the village center for shelter!” Mo Ping shouted urgently, already rushing off. The woman supported the man, hurrying toward the center.

The village always felt small. Only now did they realize how far the center was.

…

At the same time, Mo Qing and Yan Yi pulled a badly injured neighbor from rubble. Yan Yi hoisted the burly man onto his back. The man’s wife followed with their crying child—he’d been hurt protecting them.

Mo Ping’s house was near the outskirts. The village center was still a short distance away. Yan Yi could teleport instantly but didn’t dare.

He wasn’t heartless. He sensed the village constantly. Eleven unfamiliar presences had invaded. One vanished immediately—Mo Ping’s work. The others fluctuated but all moved toward the center.

“Six groups are about to be caught,” Yan Yi gritted his teeth. Mo Ping was already racing to one. Two other groups had steady presences—nearly Class C villagers, he knew. But three groups were weak. Yan Yi didn’t hesitate. He set the injured man down, handing him to the couple.

“Auntie, emergency—I must save others. Go on ahead!”

Yan Yi vanished as he spoke, startling Mo Qing. She swallowed her questions and hurried toward the village center.

Yan Yi appeared behind three bandits in flashes. One punch each. His fists carried immense force. All three spat blood and dropped dead before realizing what hit them.

Simultaneously, he sensed three bandits fleeing houses, also heading to the village center. Finding no loot, they’d grab villagers to interrogate. One would cross Mo Ping’s path. The other two moved fast—slightly weaker than Mo Ping.

Yan Yi readied to eliminate them. Then a sharp unease struck him. A presence like the Flame Wolf King surged into the village, flying straight to the center. Between its path and Yan Yi stood Mo Qing!