Chapter 213: Well, you were born even more!

"What?"

As beings who are both soldiers and bandits, the mountain mercenaries are naturally adept at looting and pillaging.

And once anything is professionalized and specialized, it forms a fixed set of operational logic.

Therefore, before ambushing this group of merchants, they deliberately sent out scouts to confirm the area was clear before acting.

After all, although these shameless plunderers, strictly speaking, hardly have any face to speak of,

But when doing bad deeds, slightly covering others' eyes and ears always leaves a bit of wiggle room, so they won't lose face when discussing cooperation later.

So…

Damn it, didn't we already scout thoroughly? How could someone get this close?

But now isn't the time to settle internal disputes; the mercenaries' creed is always simple sword-and-spear diplomacy.

The weapons in their hands move faster than their doubts; without a word, the two sides' forces clash.

Moreover, the battle turns bloody from the start, a fight to the death, and casualties appear quickly.

The mercenaries are astonished: though these strange Easterners fall short in individual martial skill, their courage is extraordinarily eerie.

Clearly, even as their companions fall beside them, they continue fighting without fear.

Clearly, even after being struck in a vital spot, they still laugh while trying to trade one for one.

Just like…

They are like legendary heroic spirits, unafraid of death.

Even if they die in battle, can the Valkyries guide them back to the holy throne to return again?

And the players are also shocked, for these human monsters' combat power is simply too strong; even giving their all, they can't prevail.

They can only fall one after another, using brutal casualties to trade for the enemy's deaths.

【Damn officials, just had fun half a day, and now they throw netherworld monsters at us to raise the difficulty, right?】

【Feels like the spear-and-blade folks aren't this ruthless either, each one cruel-hearted, specializing in low blows, like bandits.】

【Big brother! Big brother, say something, the brothers can't swallow this anger!】

【Don't rush!】

While squatting and cursing at the broken urinal, the chairman, known as 【Judgment】, also began rallying people.

Being able to organize such a retro guild, he is naturally a big boss in real life, especially fond of pouring money into all kinds of weird web games.

So upon learning of the game 'Code Name: Sun-Moon', he immediately poured money and resources, bought accounts, pulled a team together, and formed a guild centered on brotherly loyalty.

He originally thought he'd just toss away a few million for fun, following youthful trends, but was surprised to find this might be the first time he actually made money from a game.

Although this income from livestreaming and ads can at best cover only a fraction of the initial investment, it's still a genuine haul of gold coins!

Now the 'little old man' gets fired up, bringing his real-life social circle into the game and even setting up a professional team to aid development.

So his circle of friends is far from ordinary; it could be called the beta-test hero roster.

【Old Fu, my brother got cut down—can you call the Spear and Blade brothers for backup?】

【Little Star, Uncle, we've encountered a new monster over here—can you post an extermination request? Here are the coordinates.】

【Mr. Howard, do you still remember that previous contract? I think I can hook you up.】

And on this valley path, the mercenaries also killed the last enemy.

Because their overall strength is higher on this side, the casualty ratio for this battle is very low.

But for no reason, they ended up fighting a bunch of reckless lunatics in the wilderness…

Not to mention several comrades died, they couldn't even pick up half a spoil, leaving the mercenaries feeling utterly stifled.

Xie'erdun's face grew ever darker, letting his subordinates hastily clean up the battlefield before rushing away.

But just now, busy fighting, blood rushing to their heads, they hadn't had time to think.

Now, marching swiftly down the quiet path, they gradually began to react.

"Wait, we clearly cleaned up front and rear—how could their reinforcements arrive so fast?"

"Yeah, and what's the deal with these guys? They die without leaving corpses."

"Could they be the so-called ghost soldiers? But when I wrestled that guy, his body was clearly warm."

Talking about this, the atmosphere among the mercenaries grew ever more eerie.

Fear is like a thorn; even if no one dares touch its tip, it has already sunk into everyone's hearts unseen.

This bunch of roughnecks, who usually love to shout loudly to show off their bravery, are probably lowering their voices for the first time in their lives.

"Enough!"

Xie'erdun's thunderous roar put an end to all the whispering.

—If we let them keep chatting like this, morale will completely collapse!

But when he turned back, trying to intimidate doubts away with his usual fierce glare, he saw only faces twisted in extreme terror.

This…!

He hastily turned around, only to discover that, at some point, three sizable tortoiseback beasts had appeared at the road's end.

They've killed plenty of these creatures before; perhaps because running with that heavy, sturdy armor, their solid quadruped muscles pack a punch.

Back then, a former serf-turned-merc joked, "If we could haul this back to Shen Lin Wang Guo, it'd make a fine lead ox!"

So what made the mercenaries blanch wasn't the beasts themselves, but the colossal wooden contraption being dragged behind them on a cart.

As a transmigrator, the Lionheart King may not have introduced more advanced tech, but he still managed to craft some interesting devices.

So they could tell at a glance that this ought to be a bed crossbow!

But…

Are there bed crossbows of this shape?

To better expand, the Deep Forest northern nobles permit mercenary bands to recruit locally.

But to ensure absolute control, the team's core must be the confidants they cultivated during the long war.

So Shelton, a knight who followed the Marquis who had experienced a hundred battles, not only recognized this weapon but also knew its deadly weakness.

Indeed, as mechanical constructs, their damage is very high.

But the precondition is that there must be enough soldiers providing cover, creating a suitable output environment!

And now, around this strange bed crossbow there are only three operators, even standing aside with arms crossed, showing no intention of hurriedly reloading.

——Opportunity!

But just as he placed his hand on the hilt, preparing to call his men to cover and kill forward, his heart suddenly jumped.

That was the battlefield-honed instinct—he had already been targeted!

But the opponent's speed was too fast; his legs hadn't even begun to drag when a whistling wind sounded in his ears.

The next moment, an arrow grazed his wrist and nailed straight into the ground beside his foot.

How come reinforcements arrived again? Do they have some sorcery that allows instant communication over tens of thousands of miles?

Holding his breath, he slowly raised his head.

Originally, a fully armed man stood on the cliff wall beside him; even through the mask one could see the cruelty in his eyes.

In a daze, blood-soaked memories surfaced in Shelton's mind—that was his last battle experienced on the kingdom's northern frontier.

Because of the Supreme Chancellor's mistaken decision, a ten-thousand-strong force was trapped in the sandstorm ambush of the Lion tribe chieftain.

When I followed the Marquis to reinforce, they had already been slaughtered to the last by the centaur archers' inescapable death formation.

The allied beastman forces with unified command were incredibly fast—just a few hours, they had even swept the battlefield clean.

Those responsible for the rear guard were precisely the enemy's finest cavalry—the personal guards of Bei Mo Si Ke Han.

Even just a few hundred of them could make the thousands-strong kingdom army dare not pursue.

Shelton was fortunate—or unfortunate—to have personally witnessed their prowess.

During a flank shave maneuver by one of the archer squads, he managed to avoid being beheaded by the sharp crescent blade only by rolling quickly enough.

But when he couldn't help but look back, he remembered the gaze of one of those cavalrymen.

Ice-cold and ruthless, just like today!

As that arrow landed, the bushes on both sides kept shaking, and from within a huge crowd surged out.

Although their equipment and weapons were varied and their expressions mixed, Shelton could feel that they were all professionals.

Damn, what kind of godforsaken place is this?

How can there be nearly a thousand fully armed troops whose combat power rivals that of a count's personal guard!

Shelton gritted his teeth, his heart pounding like a drum.

Resist? Break out? Fight to the death?

Ha.

My people are too few, forget it!

He quickly unsheathed the sword at his waist, and Shelton's face showed the mercenary's characteristic oily smile.

"Gentlemen, little brother seems to have some misunderstanding with you all!"

Although he had indeed killed over thirty enemies, this grudge was certainly formed.

But to survive, he was willing to try any means.

After all, dying on the battlefield against the northern barbarians counts as family honor, able to leave a heavy mark in the clan genealogy.

But dying in this damned place…

He feared being recorded as a deserter by the ruthless regiment leader, stripped of all honors, reduced to a criminal despised even by beggars!

So the other mercenaries also followed suit, hastily putting down their weapons and putting on pleasant faces.

Who knew the Easterners surrounding them would show no reaction—either holding up empty air not knowing what to do, or talking to the empty air by themselves.

???

Damn, I really ran into a ghost today!

This must be an ancient soul‑killer who died here sometime ago!

Now the mercenaries were totally terrified, completely losing face, and began kneeling on the ground kowtowing loudly.

Meanwhile, the players standing apart on either side of the guild boundary gradually eased their expressions.

If this really were some mass transmigration, having been inexplicably killed so many compatriots, they would surely rush down and slaughter them all.

But this is essentially a game; the few who just died are still lively on the public screen, cursing loudly and accusing the officials of bullying people by abruptly opening a dungeon to trap them.

Moreover, players of any race are essentially 'human,' most of them ordinary residents living in relatively stable environments.

Let alone non‑human beastmen and sub‑humans; even ordinary magic beasts have a soft heart and cannot bring themselves to strike, and to this day they remain top‑tier farmers.

So facing this bunch of bearded, rough‑looking fellows who are completely Europan in appearance…

Even if their heads bore the label 【Super Bad, Suggest Kill】, they would probably find it hard to bring themselves to strike, and would hardly manage to kill them all.

This is also the fundamental reason why the Great Khan fired an arrow that only warned, not taking a life.

But even if the dead could be revived, players accustomed to double wins (meaning I win twice) would hardly let them off.

They pulled the guild leaders into a small group called the 【Underground City Council】, held a brief meeting, and reached agreement.

——Mercy can be granted, but territorial concessions and reparations must be maximized!

Naturally, the first thing to be discarded was the weapons and equipment they had planned to profit from heavily, which were kept as fines as compensation for the 'dead'.

But while they were gritting their teeth in pain…

In the crowd, a young man who appeared to hold a not‑low position suddenly blurted out.

"Tsk, I think your gear is not bad…"

"You!"

No choice, the mercenaries could only start taking off their clothes in front of everyone, leaving their extremely precious armor—comparable to a second life—on the ground.

In the end, the twenty-odd people wore only single garments, barefoot on the small path, like a flock of sheep awaiting slaughter.

"Heroes, this is all we have left; please show us mercy."

Having already cut their flesh twice, Sheldon naturally didn't want to waste the other supplies in the camp, so he tried again by telling another lie.

Meanwhile, the players, not knowing what condition their main base was in, temporarily believed his explanation.

"Well..."

"Thank you, heroes, thank you, all heroes!"

Sheldon felt a secret joy, relaxed a little, but couldn't help mocking their naivety and stupidity in his heart.

Just as he was about to hurriedly lead his men away, he saw the one with the strongest aura step out, holding a spear.

"Wait, you only paid compensation, but where is the formal apology?"

"Bastards, don't go too far!"

Sheldon cursed in his heart, but his face remained a grin.

"Heroes, didn't we just apologize?"

Who knew the other side would just shake their head.

"Friend, an apology full of empty words has no sincerity; we won't make things difficult for you, but we demand a formal one."

"And it has to be done one by one!"

That tall man seemed very popular; as soon as he spoke, everyone echoed him, leaving them no room to negotiate.

The mercenaries didn't care; after all, as lowly commoners they had no shame—let alone shouting sorry loudly, even calling each other 'dad' wouldn't matter.

And under the hopeful gazes of his subordinates, even if Sheldon retained a bit of noble dignity, he could only lower his head and mumble an apology.

But the Easterners before him clearly had no intention of letting him off so easily, and amid the shouting they began to jeer.

"Not strong enough!"

"Can't hear it at all!"

"Again! Again!"

Sheldon gritted his teeth, but now that he was in their hands, he could only apologize again at the indication of the spear‑holder.

However, the players had already gotten into it, and another round came.

"Don't look elsewhere! No glancing around!"

"Is that your stance of attention?"

"You still want to live speaking so softly?!"

Losing face together can be laughed off as lively fun, but losing face one by one is another matter!

As a noble knight, Sheldon had never suffered such utter humiliation; he immediately clenched his fists.