Chapter 5: Chapter Four: Night Attack? Counterkill!

The night was deep and silent.

“Enter combat state!”

Deng Ken, who had been feigning sleep, suddenly opened his eyes. In an instant, he seized the Northern War Bow beside him and slung two arrow quivers from beside his pillow onto his back.

From a god’s-eye view, his consciousness entered a void-like control sea.

Deng Ken still didn’t fully understand what triggered combat state, but it seemed that whenever he was targeted by an enemy, he would instantly enter combat state and switch to god’s-eye mode.

His figure moved, and the witch resting beside the cart instantly opened her eyes—her sapphire gaze piercing the darkness, locking onto Deng Ken’s movements in the distant black night. Between them, there had been little communication; the witch had disguised herself to follow the caravan northward, and Deng Ken couldn’t expose her without inviting unnecessary trouble.

He pretended to be drawn to the woman’s curvaceous figure beneath her robe, casually letting his gaze linger on her—not her face, but her chest and legs.

The original owner was a man who sought shortcuts; otherwise, he wouldn’t have seduced the neighboring widow. Deng Ken’s disguise was at least ninety percent successful.

The witch clearly believed Deng Ken was captivated by her stunning figure.

She thought Deng Ken didn’t know her identity, and that was exactly what Deng Ken wanted—her to believe he didn’t know, so he could slowly approach her and learn about this world’s supernatural forces.

A man being drawn to a beautiful woman with a striking figure was perfectly normal.

Once he became slightly more familiar with her, Deng Ken could try initiating conversation.

“But first, deal with this nuisance!”

Deng Ken moved toward the caravan, creeping toward the guard captain. The man was alert—he immediately sat up and growled, “Who’s there?”

Around him, several caravan guards snapped awake, their hands instantly gripping their sword hilts.

These men were veterans.

According to the Empire’s mercenary guild, they were classified as mercenary soldiers.

“The barbarians are approaching!”

Deng Ken tossed out the warning and vanished into the night. It was around two in the morning; the sky was pitch black, visibility nonexistent, and many in this era suffered from night blindness.

The guard captain immediately ordered the others to remain on silent alert. When he looked for Deng Ken, the archer’s figure had already vanished without a trace.

“It’s this dark—can he even see?” The guard captain’s expression grew grim.

Not just see—he could see clearly.

With a thought, Deng Ken’s god’s-eye view transformed the scene’s brightness and contrast, making it nearly as clear as daylight.

It was still those barbarian stragglers.

They hadn’t given up. They’d slipped in under cover of night, now hidden in the woods ahead, preparing for a nighttime ambush.

“Did I kill someone important today?”

“Is their leader seeking revenge?”

Normally, after suffering one defeat, they wouldn’t return. The caravan’s cargo was valuable, but with their combat strength, raiding nearby villages or towns would yield far more.

Two enemies wore bear pelts yesterday—one I killed with a headshot, the other fled quickly.

Inside a dense, dark forest.

The barbarian stragglers had split into two groups—one planned to circle south and ambush the caravan, the other intended to strike from behind during the chaos.

“Break them. Cut down that archer with your blades.”

“It’s dark.”

“His archery will be crippled.”

The barbarian leader’s face twisted with rage—his brother had been killed by Deng Ken’s headshot today. He must avenge him. Only by severing that southern bastard’s head could he wash away his shame. Barbarian mercenaries were tacitly permitted to plunder imperial lands as part of their pay. This crushing defeat had shattered his authority. If he retreated now without vengeance, he’d lose control over his unruly warriors.

Night attack.

A regular army ambushing a caravan guard unit—just one charge and they’d crush them.

“Mark!”

Deng Ken moved silently through the night. From his god’s-eye view, he surveyed the entire battlefield and marked every enemy unit bearing a single star.

The Northern War Bow’s effective range was about one hundred and fifty meters.

Deng Ken calculated the distance, drew an arrow, climbed a slightly elevated hillock, and nocked his bow, aiming at the enemy’s inevitable path—a dirt embankment beside a small canal. They had to cross here, or wade through a shallow ditch.

One hundred and fifty meters… one hundred and twenty… one hundred… eighty…

Fwip!

Since gaining the Archery Mastery skill, his aiming reticle had grown far more stable, with minimal shake. Deng Ken’s vision spanned the battlefield—he could even see the red pigment smeared on the barbarians’ foreheads.

Thwack.

One barbarian straggler was instantly decapitated. With Archery Mastery, Deng Ken’s firing speed had increased dramatically. With the reticle locked, he could easily target vital points.

The night was his best cover.

Deng Ken waited until they crossed the river before striking. He loosed one arrow, instantly drew another, and aimed at the marked unit wearing the bear pelt—but just as the arrow flew, someone stepped into its path. The unlucky soldier took the arrow in the ribs and let out a muffled groan.

By day, they’d know exactly where Deng Ken hid. But now, in this pitch-black night, they’d chosen their own moment of blind ambush.

Deng Ken rose slowly, moved deliberately, and fired—arrow after arrow. He didn’t aim for instant kills; he just needed to hit.

In the darkness.

The barbarian stragglers heard only the whistling of arrows—and then men kept falling beside them. Soon, they completely broke.

“The archer!”

“It’s him! He saw us!…”

“He can see us!…”

Even the finest forest hunters from the northern slopes of Alpia couldn’t hit nearly every shot in such darkness. The barbarians were seized by overwhelming terror.

But Deng Ken only found them noisy.

Anyone who’d played Mount & Blade knew: when enemies clustered together, you didn’t need precise aim—just fire wildly at the crowd. Speed mattered. With the general direction correct, one man could kill dozens.

The barbarian stragglers were utterly stunned.

Only when someone leapt into the river did the others react—some followed, jumping into the canal; others turned to flee back into the woods, hoping the trees and thickets would block the arrows.

Deng Ken accelerated slightly.

He realized that with his current archery skill, he could only stabilize the reticle by standing still. Movement caused it to wobble, sharply reducing accuracy.

“Stationary shooting—I’ve mastered it.”

“Moving shooting—I’m still far from proficient.”

“Mounted archery? The reticle would shake like a flower in a storm.”

Deng Ken had one goal.

Kill the barbarian leader marked with a single star—the bear-pelted berserker. Until he was dead, this wasn’t over.

But he’d anticipated this—he’d donned a plated armor and a bear-pelt helmet.

Fine.

One arrow won’t kill him? Then fire more.

For veteran players, fighting a squad of thirty or forty men alone—no cheats, just one horse, one spear, one bow—was routine.

Especially with Deng Ken’s god’s-eye view—the barbarian leader couldn’t escape his sight.

One arrow!

Fwip.

The barbarian leader grunted as the arrow struck his abdomen—but it wasn’t fatal. His health bar appeared, showing only a sixth of his health gone. This man’s health was nearly twice Deng Ken’s—his first time seeing such a long bar.

As if guided by some unseen force, the barbarian leader suddenly pinpointed Deng Ken’s location in the pitch-black night.

A blurred silhouette.

The distance was roughly one hundred meters. From here, Deng Ken could reach the forest in fifty meters—once inside, he’d be nearly impossible to hit. But to chase Deng Ken, the leader had to sprint a hundred meters across uneven country paths. Still, once he closed the gap, even unarmed, he was certain he could strangle the archer with his bare hands.

Roar!

In the god’s-eye view, the marked barbarian leader’s unit flashed red.

His speed exploded.

“Adrenaline surge?”

“Barbarian berserker state?”

The distance closed rapidly—eighty meters… seventy… sixty… fifty. He’d locked onto Deng Ken’s position.

In the consciousness space.

Deng Ken decisively activated the “Adrenaline Surge” skill. This ability clearly favored close combat, but when activated, his controlled figure underwent a strange transformation—his pupils contracted, his drawing speed surged, and the aiming reticle locked solidly, barely trembling at all.

Adrenaline Surge enhanced everything: strength, agility, speed, coordination, pupil focus—all rose together.

One arrow. Two arrows. Three arrows.

Deng Ken drew with tremendous force—anyone would fear the bowstring snapping any second. But his perfect body coordination pushed the Northern War Bow to its absolute limit—each arrow unleashed devastating power!

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

The barbarian leader now moved like a furious beast, charging straight through Deng Ken’s barrage. His sprint was blistering—he could even dodge slightly while moving.

Thud.

When he finally reached Deng Ken, the towering giant—nearly one meter ninety tall—collapsed to his knees, blood seeping through his bear pelt. Six or seven arrows jutted from his chest.

Deng Ken drew another arrow, expressionless, and aimed at the enemy’s skull.

Crack!

The bowstring snapped. The Northern War Bow finally broke.

Deng Ken didn’t hesitate—he snatched the French throwing axe from his belt and brought it down hard on the enemy’s skull.

Decapitation!

The health bar vanished. This man had absurdly high health.

Target eliminated.

Deng Ken withdrew immediately, ignoring the corpses, and retreated toward the caravan, as reorganized bands of barbarian routees were already charging this way.

The victory was spectacular.

His surprise attack killed the barbarian routees’ leader, shot dead five or six, wounded many more—enemy combat effectiveness was essentially shattered.

With their leader dead, the barbarian routees scattered completely.

Deng Ken returned to camp.

The caravan’s mercenary guards dared not stir until dawn broke, when a few ventured out cautiously to clear the battlefield.

When they returned, the mercenaries’ gazes toward Deng Ken were like those of worshippers gazing upon a divine being.

The Empire’s barbarian mercenary forces were notoriously formidable—a hundred-man unit could smash through hundreds of imperial troops in open combat, yet Deng Ken alone had shattered this many, even if they were demoralized routees; still, they were regular barbarian soldiers, something no one had ever imagined possible.

Barbarian warriors were indeed formidable; even ordinary soldiers had more health than imperial knights.

Deng Ken sat silently beside the carriage, eating, aware the witch’s gaze occasionally feigned indifference as it landed on him.

——“Strength: Barbarian warriors, raised in harsh, frigid lands, possess physiques far surpassing ordinary men through nature’s trials.”

——“Archery Proficiency: Your archery skill has grown refined, rivaling that of barbarian forest hunters. Significantly increases accuracy, rate of fire, enhances mobility while shooting, and further amplifies hunting traits.”

——“Rage [Special Ability]: An advanced branch of adrenaline surge, greatly boosts strength and constitution; during duration, you cannot die from non-lethal wounds; upon expiration, you enter severe exhaustion and fatigue. Additional negative state: Fury.”

The battle’s rewards were decent.

It seemed he could only steal abilities possessed by barbarian warriors—he could not take what the enemy lacked.

Rage and adrenaline surge could not be activated simultaneously; after the duration ended, he felt as if he’d been hit by seven consecutive blows—his entire body hollowed out, weak and drained.

This special ability could not be used lightly—after activation, his combat power dropped by at least half.

When Deng Ken stood, his arms trembled slightly; no wonder barbarian berserkers on imperial battlefields could only strike once—the second wave would turn into limp noodles.

Other basic combat techniques saw slight improvement, but nothing remarkable.

Barbarian warriors wielded only blades and axes; their basic techniques corresponded to what those weapons could execute—blade techniques primarily consisted of chopping, slashing, thrusting, stabbing, parrying, blocking, crushing, severing, and wiping; daily training focused on broad, sweeping chops and slashes—delicate techniques were not their fighting style.

“Basic techniques are universal.”

“The thrust—whether using spear, sword, or blade—functions identically.”

“I think I understand how to use the combat menu’s techniques.”

Thrust.

You’ve spent years thrusting with a spear—does switching to a blade or sword make you forget how to thrust?

Same thing.

Can you chop with a blade but not with a sword or axe?

As for the “Combat Technique—Decapitation,” it’s a combo move; any weapon capable of decapitating—blade, sword, axe—can trigger it, and its power depends entirely on the most fundamental techniques, centered on “chop” and “slash.”

Deng Ken now understood the combat menu’s basic techniques clearly—his thrust, chop, and slash were by far the strongest, equivalent to having trained these simple moves for three to five years.

The caravan soon resumed its journey.

This time, Deng Ken rode in a carriage—his combat exertions had been considerable.

No traitors inside? How about an imperial joke?

………………