80: Chapter 80 We are deserters!

The next day.

It was the fifth day since Zhou Yun arrived in this world.

Early morning, East City Gate.

Five hundred figures emerged from the edge of the distant forest.

They were the five hundred Professionals sent by Wang Shuai.

After a forced march, they finally reached the outskirts of Flower City at daybreak.

The leader was called Old Dao, in his forties, with an old scar running from the corner of his eyebrow to his chin, making him look like someone not to be trifled with.

He was Wang Shuai's top subordinate; not only had his strength reached Silver Rank, but he also possessed the most combat experience. Wang Shuai had entrusted this mission to him for the sake of stability.

According to Wang Shuai's instructions—destroy Flower City as quickly as possible and bring back the results to report.

Old Dao had originally thought the same.

It's just an F-Level City; what's the difference between sending five hundred people there and stepping on ants?

But when he lay at the edge of the forest, looking through the gaps in the branches toward the East City Gate of Flower City—his expression changed.

The walls of the East City Gate were packed with people.

Not ordinary citizens.

They were Professionals.

Clad in armor, holding weapons, with sentries posted every few paces, they stood in perfect formation.

On both sides of the city gate, patrols walked back and forth, their formations tight and their gazes alert.

Old Dao's brows knitted together.

"Is this fucking F-Level City?" A subordinate beside him also saw it, his voice tight. "Why are there so many Professionals?"

"Don't panic." Old Dao lowered his voice, his gaze sweeping over the city walls several times as he calculated rapidly in his mind.

The East City Gate defense was tight; a direct frontal assault would definitely not work.

But a city has four walls; it's impossible for every side to be guarded so strictly.

The defensive forces were concentrated here, likely where the main force was located.

The other directions—must have weak points.

"Go around!"

With a wave of his hand, the five hundred men hunched over and slipped into the forest, beginning to detour along the wooded belt outside the city walls.

Circling from the east to the north.

There were people standing guard on the wall.

The density was not low.

Keep circling.

Circling from the north to the south.

Still people.

Same armor, same weapons, same sentries every few paces.

The footsteps of the five hundred men grew slower and slower, and their expressions became increasingly grim.

Old Dao's expression had completely darkened.

He instinctively felt that something was wrong—the city's defensive deployment was not in the "heavy east gate, light elsewhere" mode.

It was highly likely that all four sides were heavily defended!

Now, he could only hope that the defense of the west side, the only one he hadn't seen, would be a bit lax.

Otherwise, let alone destroying Flower City, they might not even be able to enter the city!

And as they moved further west, their ears began to be filled with waves of tremendous noise.

The clanging of hammers, the chants of laborers, the muffled thuds of stones colliding, and also... the dense sound of human voices.

Until they circled to the wooded belt on the outskirts of the West City and looked out through the leaves—Old Dao's pupils shrank violently.

Outside the West City was a massive construction site.

Thousands—no, tens of thousands—were busy on the site.

Some were moving stones, some were chopping wood, some were laying walls.

Every single person was radiating a bright or dim glow of Battle Qi!

They were all Professionals!

Those doing manual labor... were Professionals!!!

The five hundred men behind Old Dao lost their voices collectively upon seeing this scene.

"This... this..."

"Isn't this supposed to be an F-Level City? Where did an F-Level City get so many Professionals?"

"You count! Just the ones working outside the West City are no fewer than five thousand Professionals!"

"Damn it, how are we five hundred supposed to fight?"

"This is completely different from what the City Lord said!!"

Old Dao did not speak.

His hand unconsciously gripped the hilt of his blade, his knuckles turning white.

Wang Shuai had said to "destroy Flower City as quickly as possible."

But this Flower City before him—the number of Professionals he could see with his naked eye was already more than ten times their own.

The intelligence was wrong!

So... go back now?

After all, this mission, no matter how you look at it, was impossible to complete!

Relying on them, five hundred Professionals, to destroy Flower City?

How could that be possible?

They were more likely to be wiped out instead!

Just then, a low, explosive shout suddenly came from not far away—

"Who goes there!"

He turned his head sharply.

A troop of men had surrounded them from behind the wooded belt without them knowing when.

Leading them was a burly middle-aged man; under the Spiritual Power fluctuations of a Silver Rank, Battle Qi was burning on his body.

He was holding a long blade, the tip pointing directly at Old Dao's direction.

It was Lei Lie!

Behind him, hundreds of fully armed Flower City soldiers had completed the encirclement, trapping the five hundred men within the wooded belt.

On the left and right flanks, archers and mages were in position.

Their retreat route had also been cut off!

Old Dao's heart sank to the bottom.

Lei Lie stepped forward, scanning these five hundred men, his gaze icy.

"I'm asking you! Who are you? What is your status? Why are you here? What is your scheme?"

The five hundred men looked at each other; no one dared to speak first.

Old Dao's brain spun rapidly.

Fighting was impossible; the people surrounding them alone were more than five hundred, not to mention those on the city walls and the construction site... The result of a head-on collision would only be one—total annihilation.

He took a deep breath and squeezed out a smile:

"No misunderstanding, no misunderstanding! Officer, we are refugees!"

The five hundred men behind him quickly cooperated; some dropped their weapons, some raised their hands, and some tried hard to force harmless expressions onto their faces.

Lei Lie sneered.

"Refugees?"

His gaze slowly swept over these five hundred men.

Each one was strong and robust, with full muscles, Battle Qi restrained but impossible to hide—any one of them grabbed at random was a Professional!

"This is the first time I've seen such strong refugees."

Old Dao's smile froze on his face.

He coughed and decisively changed his story: "Alright, since the General has seen through us, I will tell the truth."

He patted his chest and put on a frank expression:

"To tell you the truth, we are actually a trade caravan."

Beside Lei Lie, Strategist Zhu Ge smiled lightly,

"Since you are a trade caravan, where did you come from? And where are you going?"

Old Dao opened his mouth, about to make something up, but Strategist Zhu Ge asked another question:

"And what goods are you transporting? It couldn't be that they were snatched by Demonic Beasts, right?"

The soldiers of Flower City immediately burst into laughter.

Demonic Beasts were Black Iron Rank, and even ordinary Professional squads wouldn't dare to provoke them, let alone run into a formation of five hundred people? They would probably tuck their tails and run from far away!

Saying the goods were snatched by Demonic Beasts—that was as absurd as saying a sheep scared away a pack of wolves.

Old Dao's face turned the color of pig's liver.

Refugees—seen through.

Trade caravan—seen through again.

Third time's the charm.

If the third excuse was also punctured, the other side would likely not have the patience to waste words with him anymore.

With his brain spinning wildly, he feigned a look, tilted his head back, and let out a long sigh.

"Sigh..."

This sigh was drawn out, carrying a perfectly measured sense of loneliness and shame in his tone.

"You still couldn't be deceived."

He lowered his head, his tone becoming sorrowful:

"To be honest—our true identity is neither refugees nor a trade caravan."

"Actually, we are—deserters!"