155: Chapter 155 The Wealthy Battle

"Is this really necessary..."

A sense of absurd desolation and terror instantly gripped his heart, making the arm holding his battle-axe go slightly numb.

To fight a tribe like his, was there a need to deploy such a massive formation?

The despair was only just beginning.

When the army of five hundred thousand advanced to a certain invisible boundary, the one hundred thousand Moon Shadow Archers in the front row, clad in light armor and holding longbows, stopped in unison.

Their movements were perfectly synchronized.

Drawing bows and nocking arrows, the movements were fluid and silent.

Only the subtle vibration of bowstrings being pulled to full draw merged into a low, buzzing hum.

The next second.

"Fire!"

The command came from an unknown source.

"Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh!!!"

The sky went dark.

It wasn't dark clouds; it was a rain of arrows.

A true, sky-blotting rain of arrows!

Hundreds of thousands of arrows soared into the air, tracing lethal parabolas across the sky.

Emitting scalp-numbing shrieks, they transformed into a shadow of death, precisely blanketing Chief's tribal camp!

"Raise shields! Defend!" Chief's eyes nearly split from strain as he roared hoarsely.

The arrow rain fell.

Puff, puff, puff!

Wooden sheds were shot into sieves, and beast-hide tents were torn apart.

The elderly, the weak, women, and children who didn't have time to find cover—and even some warriors with slower reactions—were instantly pinned to the ground.

Screams, wails, and the dull thuds of sharp objects entering flesh immediately replaced the previous clamor.

Before the dust from the first wave of arrows had even settled.

"Mage Corps, prepare!"

Another hundred thousand voices spoke with a strange rhythm.

That was the Blazing Fire Mages and Crimson Flame Mages raising their staves.

They began to emit blinding crimson light, and the temperature in the air suddenly skyrocketed.

"Burst Fireballs, fire in unison!"

"Boom! Boom, boom, boom!!!"

It was more violent than the arrow rain, and more destructive!

Thousands upon thousands of blazing fireballs of varying sizes were like a meteor shower flying in reverse.

Trailing crimson tails of flame, they slammed ruthlessly into the tribe, which was already a mess after the baptism of arrows!

Explosions! Flames! Shockwaves!

Crude buildings collapsed and burned in the fire, and stockpiled supplies turned into soaring torches.

Ignited Minotaurs screamed as they rolled around, trying to extinguish the flames on their bodies, but often only setting more companions on fire.

Thick smoke billowed and the stench of burning filled the air; the Split-Hoof Tribe was instantly transformed into a flaming hell.

“Th-third wave! Arrow rain cover, suppress the counterattack!”

The cold command rang out once more.

The Minotaurs who were lucky enough to survive the arrows and fireballs had just struggled to crawl out from under the ruins or the corpses of their companions, before they could even see what the enemy looked like.

"Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh!"

The second wave of arrow rain, even more precise and lethal, swept in like the Grim Reaper's scythe once again!

It specifically targeted those who looked like they still had the capacity to move, those trying to assemble, or those attempting to put out fires.

Three waves.

In just three rounds of long-range strikes, with extremely short intervals and perfect coordination, there was zero dead-zone coverage.

When the sound of arrows piercing the air and fireballs exploding temporarily ceased, the gunpowder smoke cleared slightly.

What was revealed before Chief and the surviving Minotaurs was a literal scorched-earth purgatory.

The outer perimeter of the camp was almost razed to the ground.

The ground was covered with stuck arrows, burning debris, and charred corpses.

A preliminary estimate suggested that in these few short minutes...

At least thirty to forty thousand elderly, weak, women, children, and warriors who hadn't managed to enter the elite phalanx had perished under this wave of saturation strikes; the casualties were catastrophic.

Wails echoed everywhere; the tribe's will to resist had suffered a devastating blow in the very first contact.

Chief's eyes were bloodshot, and hot white steam puffed from his nostrils; the rage and grief in his heart were about to explode.

But he couldn't afford to grieve for his dead clansmen, because his thirty thousand most elite, best-equipped Minotaur warriors had formed a tight battle formation at the first moment.

Although they had barely withstood these three waves of terrifying long-range baptism by relying on thick tower shields, powerful constitutions, and mutual support...

Everyone was wounded, the formation was teetering from the explosions and flames, and morale had plummeted to the absolute bottom.

"Hold! Everyone hold your ground for me!"

Chief brandished his battle-axe and roared, trying to reorganize the formation.

He knew that once the formation broke, they would only die faster in the face of the inevitable melee charge.

Just then, the despair-inducing army across from them finally made a new move.

Lin Tian sat atop the majestic Red Flame, looking at the messy tribe and the thirty thousand Minotaur phalanx still putting up a cornered-beast struggle from afar, his expression calm.

He made a hand gesture.

"Lin Feng."

"Your subordinate is here!"

"See those big guys huddled together? Take your fifty thousand Heavy Armored Spearman brothers, use 'Command of a Thousand Armies', and... break them apart."

"Understood!"

Lin Feng grinned, revealing pearly white teeth, as a golden-red battle intent flared up in his eyes!

He suddenly clamped his legs against the horse's belly and surged out from the crowd, his crimson gold coiling dragon spear pointing directly at Chief's location, his roar echoing across the battlefield:

"Soldiers of Red Sun! Connect your blood and qi! Manifest the War Soul!"

"Ha!!"

Fifty thousand of the most elite, battle-hardened Heavy Armored Spearmen roared in unison. Their majestic blood-qi and death-defying battle intent were like fifty thousand streaks of crimson wolf-smoke, soaring into the sky and surging frantically toward Lin Feng!

Boom!!

A phantom of the Red Sun War God, nearly fifty meters tall, appearing as if cast from crimson gold and burning with raging Solar True Fire, stood tall in the center of the battlefield, emitting a terrifying pressure that made even the soul feel scorched!

Its energy level had impressively reached Platinum 3-Star!

That brilliant divine might was like a true sun descending, instantly becoming the absolute core of the entire battlefield; even the sunlight in the sky seemed to dim for a moment.

The formation Chief had just barely stabilized fell into a violent commotion again the moment this heaven-propping phantom of the War God appeared.

Countless Minotaur warriors looked up at that deity-like figure, feeling the heat and pressure that seemed ready to boil their blood dry, their eyes filled with uncontrollable fear.

The War God phantom did not pause for a moment. The giant flaming spear in its hand, formed entirely from condensed battle intent and blood-qi and as large as a battering ram...

Carrying a destructive aura that crushed everything, it locked onto Chief and thrust out—simple, crude, yet fast as a lightning bolt!

Space itself seemed to be pierced and distorted by this spear, emitting an overburdened wail!

"Chief, watch out!" the adjutant beside him cried out in terror.

The hair all over Chief's body stood on end; the shadow of death had never been so clear!

He gave a wild roar, his muscles swelling to their limit, veins bulging under his dark red skin. He poured his Platinum-level energy without reservation into the giant axe in his hands and charged forward to meet the incoming giant flaming spear!

He couldn't retreat. If he did, the already teetering army formation behind him would collapse instantly!

However, just as he was going all out to meet Lin Feng's world-destroying spear thrust...