152: Chapter 153 The truth will out.

They had not left.

The team leader lay behind a rock, motionless, his ear pressed against the ground, feeling the frequency of the vibrations.

It was getting closer.

They were not passing by; they were heading in this direction.

He raised his head and glanced at the surrounding terrain—to the left was a valley crevice, which could hide people but not a hundred.

To the right were low shrubs that could not conceal their figures; behind them was the path they had come from, open and exposed.

Ahead, the sound of armor clashing was already clearly audible.

The team leader made a judgment.

They could not hide.

He took a deep breath and slowly stood up from behind the rock, his right hand resting on the hilt of his blade, but he did not draw it.

Seeing him stand up, the team members behind him also stood up one after another.

No one spoke.

Everyone's hands were pressed against their weapons, but likewise, no one drew them.

...

When the regular army appeared in their field of vision, they were closer than the hundred-man squad had anticipated.

About three hundred paces.

The thousand-man formation advanced slowly along a shallow valley, with scouts spread out in front and cavalry patrolling the flanks.

Flags unfurled in the twilight, black background with red patterns; the specific emblem could not be seen clearly.

The scouts were the first to discover the hundred-man squad.

A short, sharp whistle sounded, the marching speed of the thousand-man formation suddenly slowed, and the soldiers in the front row subconsciously tightened their formation.

The hundred-man squad and the thousand-man regular army thus faced each other, separated by three hundred paces.

...

The other side sent one person out.

Riding a horse, alone, not raising any weapons, but with a hand resting on the sword hilt—a standard alert posture.

That person stopped at a distance of one hundred paces and swept his gaze over the hundred-man squad.

What he saw caused his expression to change slightly.

One hundred people, all in Black Iron Rank Crimson Series equipment, with completely uniform styles.

Everyone was either carrying a Demonic Beast wolf corpse or dragging one with a rope.

Some carried two, some dragged three, and the bloodstains dragged on the ground extended all the way from afar.

Demonic Beast wolf.

The officer looked at those gray corpses, his gaze turning cold for an instant.

Then his gaze shifted from the Demonic Beast wolves to the people, and he began to size them up—equipment, physique, standing posture, the way hands rested on weapons, the tightness of the formation.

He watched for about five or six breaths' time.

His expression slowly changed.

The coldness receded, replaced by a calmness after scrutiny, and the corners of his mouth even curled up slightly.

"Yo," he spoke, his tone more casual than expected, "what a coincidence."

The team leader did not move, his hand resting on the blade hilt, neither tight nor loose.

"We also came to hunt Demonic Beast wolves," the officer pointed his whip at the corpses the hundred-man squad was dragging, smiling, "but it turns out you got to them first."

The team leader did not immediately reply.

He was watching.

The thousand-man formation behind the officer had already stopped.

Separated by a distance of three hundred paces, he could not see everyone's faces clearly, but he could see their equipment and demeanor.

Most of the soldiers wore mismatched armor, some leather, some cloth; a few wore standard-issue iron armor, but none of it was high quality.

Their weapons were even more mixed—a jumble of spears, short blades, and bows, without even a uniform standard.

There were not many Professionals.

The team leader scanned them roughly, judging by their aura, there were no more than forty people in the entire thousand-man unit with spiritual energy fluctuations, and most were low-level Black Iron Rank.

The remaining nine hundred-plus people were ordinary soldiers.

The tension in the team leader's heart eased a little.

His team of one hundred, all Black Iron Rank Professionals, with uniform equipment, had just finished a battle.

The thousand people opposite had fewer than a hundred Professionals, and their equipment was terrible.

If they really fought, it was hard to say who would be afraid of whom!

With his confidence bolstered, his tone became firmer.

"The Demonic Beast wolves were hunted by us," the team leader's voice was neither high nor low, but every word was clear, "things without an owner go to whoever arrives first."

The officer raised an eyebrow, not refuting him.

"Of course," he nodded, his tone very flat, "if you hunted them, they naturally belong to you."

The team leader stared at him for two breaths, confirming the other party had no intention of entangling, before continuing.

"Besides, if you really came to hunt Demonic Beast wolves, why are you acting only now? It's almost dark."

"Taking advantage of the darkness to launch a surprise attack," the officer replied with a smile, his tone as relaxed as if chatting, "not everyone has the strength you do to conduct a frontal sweep in broad daylight."

This sounded like a compliment, but the team leader did not respond.

The officer stopped smiling, his gaze becoming a bit more serious.

"It's just—where are you from? I've traveled this area many times and haven't seen you before."

The team leader was silent for a breath.

"Is it abnormal not to have seen us?"

The officer blinked.

The team leader's tone was flat and plain, with no discernible emotion.

"Why must we have met before to cross paths now? Is there anything else? If not, we shall part ways here."

After speaking, he turned around and waved to his team.

The hundred-man squad moved, dragging the Demonic Beast wolf corpses, and walked in the direction they had come from without looking back.

Their pace was neither fast nor slow, their weapons not sheathed, but not drawn either.

The officer sat on his horse, watching their backs.

One hundred people, uniform equipment, uniform steps, dragging dozens of Demonic Beast wolves, walking into a line in the twilight.

He did not pursue.

Nor did he stop them.

He just watched.

Until that line disappeared into the undulations of the wilderness.

Someone rode up from behind.

"My Lord, should we—"

"No need," the officer shook his head, "let's go back."

He reined his horse around and took one last look at the direction in which the hundred-man squad had disappeared.

It was unknown what he was thinking.

...

Flower City.

Mercenary Guild hall.

It was completely dark.

Eighty-two teams had finished reporting their missions one after another.

The results were even better than yesterday—Ore, Spirit Medicine, and various Demonic Beast corpses piled up the open space outside the East City Gate. Nuan Nuan had already come to check twice, and each time her smile was bigger than the last; the last time, she even brought several clerks to count on the spot.

But Lei Lie's attention was not on the results.

Because among the eighty-two teams, fourteen had reported the same thing.

Encountering a regular army.

Fourteen teams, fourteen directions, fourteen regular armies of varying sizes.

The smallest had a few hundred people, the largest two thousand.

The banners were all different—black background with red patterns, blue background with white edges, pure gray—coming from at least four or five different cities.

Lei Lie had each squad that encountered a regular army stay behind separately, asking for details one by one.

Each squad said roughly the same thing: when the other side saw the Hua City Mercenaries' equipment and the Demonic Beast wolf harvest, they were cold at first, then calm.

They tentatively asked about their origins, but the Hua City Mercenaries did not reveal their name, brushing it off vaguely.

There was no conflict between the two sides, and they each went their separate ways.

Lei Lie listened to them one by one, marking the encounter locations on the map one by one.

Fourteen red dots were scattered within a range of forty to eighty miles around Flower City, covering almost every direction.

The Hua City Mercenaries were clever; not one of them reported the name of Flower City.

But Lei Lie knew—paper cannot contain fire.