Behind the poetic name of the Five-Colored Valley lay the harshest reality of the Thorn Gem Empire. Serving as the natural boundary between the empire's east and west, the Five-Colored Valley Mountains marked a divide: to the east lay fertile plains, while to the west stretched a rugged terrain of hills and mountains. This region, just five hundred li from the imperial capital, was officially designated by the empire's Magic Academy as a "Trial Ground."

  Every five years, the academy releases meticulously bred magical creatures here. Graduating mage apprentices must hunt these beasts to gain combat experience and hone their ability to cast spells under extreme pressure. For local civilians, however, this becomes a recurring nightmare. In response, the Emperor "graciously" exempted the region from taxation. This, however, turned the land into the final refuge for bankrupt farmers—a group of "border dwellers" utterly abandoned by the empire.

  In this aristocracy-dominated world, commoners' value lies solely in generating wealth. Merchants trade under noble patronage, peasants toil for lords, while the "border folk"—unable to yield any profit—naturally become playthings for noble amusement. Here, aristocratic entertainment transcends mere sensual indulgence; it thrives on the thrill of bloodshed and slaughter.

  At this moment, a noble hunting party of roughly three hundred traversed the mountain forests. They moved in groups of twenty or thirty, each cluster centered around a young noble clad in opulent attire. The warhorses beneath these knights stood shoulder-high as camels, clad in mirror-like steel armor. Their intricately carved lances traced deadly arcs through the air.

  Raising a single knight thus equipped consumed resources sufficient to sustain an entire village for years. Trailing behind these resplendent figures were three to four thousand servants—silent shadows tasked with tending to the noble lords engaged in this "hunt" upon the battlefield. The Empire does indeed maintain knightly orders clad in pure steel armor, their rarity second only to the mage corps. When these iron torrents form battle lines and charge, even the fiercest wyverns retreat three paces.

  A true knight is defined not only by his superior equipment but by his unyielding, fearless heart. He stands firm amidst a hail of spears and bullets; he remains unmoved by boulders hurled from catapults; he does not retreat before a sky filled with arrows. Only a legion of over thirteen hundred such knights could charge through a large-scale magical assault without breaking ranks and still retain their combat effectiveness.

  Yet even the empire could only sustain about twenty such legions; lesser lords dared not dream of such a force. This particular heavy cavalry squadron was now venting its fury in the villages at the foot of the Five-Colored Valley. A dozen knights drove the so-called border peasants toward a designated gathering point. Should any peasant attempt to flee, a knight would charge forward and pierce his skull with a lance.

  After herding these commoners into one place, the noblemen's servants prepared ropes and wooden stocks to shackle each border villager, ready to send them to the slave market as merchandise. Of course, some young women of particular beauty were set apart. When these nobles grew weary from their games and needed to unwind, those attractive young women served as the perfect outlet for their pent-up frustrations. The servants carried out their duties with meticulous care, knowing that once the nobles grew tired of these playthings, they would be rewarded to the servants themselves.

  Renyu and Yun Chenhe stood on a distant hilltop, coldly observing this human tragedy. Renyu frowned deeply: "Brother Yun, the enemy numbers are considerable. Can we handle them?"

  Yun Chenhe's lips curled into a cold smile. "This battle must be fought. Their only real fighting force is fewer than 300 knights. The rest are a rabble."

  During the march, their roles had been clearly defined—Yun Chenhe, with his extensive experience, commanded the cold weapon combat, while Renyu oversaw industrial production and manpower allocation. Yet Renyu still weighed the pros and cons: early development was already arduous; losing precious conscripts now...

  Yun Chenhe seemed to read his hesitation, gesturing toward the growing crowd of civilians in the distance: "Look, nearly twenty thousand now." His voice was low and resolute: "In this age of ignorance, reasoning with them is like preaching to the wind. To make these people submit, we must demonstrate absolute force. Even if it costs us hundreds, if it intimidates tens of thousands, it's a bargain worth paying."

  These words struck Renyu like a bolt of lightning, clearing his mind. He wasn't some naive idealist. In this dog-eat-dog world, a single resounding victory could carry more weight than a thousand lectures. Red ideals could be sown slowly, but right now, they needed to establish authority swiftly.

  Charles, the third son of the Earl of Rock, basked in triumph. During today's hunt, he alone had captured the most "prey"—especially those teenage girls, their terrified eyes still burning in his imagination, sending waves of heat through his body.

  Stripping off his bloodstained armor, Charles strode arrogantly toward his companions, ready to boast about his "achievements"—how he'd speared three fleeing commoners through the chest with a single thrust. Suddenly, a piercing alarm rent the sky.

  Four hundred meters away, an unknown army rapidly closed in. The family knight sent to investigate lay sprawled in the grass, blood gushing from his throat, staining the surrounding foliage crimson.

  Renyu watched coldly as the servant who had just moments ago arrogantly sneered, "Which faction are you from? Showing up after the hunt's over? Go home and play in the mud," now became a corpse growing steadily colder. Having been baptized by the previous battle, Renyu harbored not a shred of hesitation toward such enemies. The worldviews between himself and these nobles were as different as heaven and earth. Only one side could survive.

  Within the camp, chaos erupted among the thousands gathered. A noble squinted into the distance. "Which family's fool dares disrespect the Rock Family like this?"

  Charles was already seething with rage. Without even donning his armor, he charged out on horseback with his personal guards, fury burning in his eyes. "Dare to kill a member of the Rock family? Have you had enough of living?!" His earlier good mood had vanished without a trace.

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  Yet as he closed to within a hundred paces, Charles sensed something amiss. From the opposing ranks, a squad of soldiers moved swiftly, crouching, raising crossbows, and aiming in perfect unison—a fluid, seamless sequence. Charles' pupils contracted sharply as trembling lips forced out two words: "Military... crossbows!"

  In the Thorn Gem Empire, military crossbows were the most dreaded forbidden weapons. Even the weakest peasant wielding a double-barreled crossbow could threaten knights or mages. And now, an entire phalanx of crossbowmen was coldly aiming at him.

  A bone-chilling cold shot from his feet to the crown of his head. Charles felt a sudden chill on his forehead, then the world spun as he tumbled from his horse. In the final moment before consciousness faded, he was utterly baffled: Which noble had he offended to warrant an assault by the regular army?

  Someone screamed in panic, "Enemy attack! Enemy attack!" But it was too late—the first volley of bolts poured down like a torrential rain, their metal tips glinting with death in the sunlight. Knights who hadn't had time to don their armor were instantly transformed into hedgehogs, impaled by countless arrows.

  These specially crafted crossbows fired metal bolts barely finger-length, yet they pierced leather armor at an initial velocity of 150 meters per second, inflicting fatal wounds. When Renyu's conscripts completed their first volley, thirty-seven knights—caught unprepared and unarmored—fell dead instantly, dropping like harvested wheat stalks.

  The servants trailing behind Charles froze in place, witnessing this horrific spectacle. Those who had moments before slaughtered civilians with demonic ferocity now trembled in terror at the threat of death. Yun Chenhe gave these executioners no chance to react. The second wave of arrows struck. Steel bolts pierced their foreheads with precision, blood blossoming in the sunlight with a sickly glow. Over a hundred retainers fell like dominoes.

  Yun Chenhe's tactical intent was now crystal clear—he had long seen through the hollow bravado of this noble force. Compared to the White Rock Duchy's troops, hardened by years of combat against orcs, these pampered family mercenaries were utterly不堪一击.

  Such pinpoint accuracy was standard for Combat Evolution Officer troops, hardened by the Firepower Era. These conscripts' marksmanship was honed through countless rounds of ammunition; headshots from a hundred meters were child's play to them. It proved the adage "you get what you pay for"—only "Smart-grade" conscripts, worth a kilogram of purple gold, could wield sniper-level shooting skills. Every arrow fired by Renyu's lavishly assembled force struck the enemy's vital points.

  Unlike the equipment provided by Xiao Feng during their time in the White Rock Duchy, every weapon now was personally crafted by Renyu. He understood that if he demonstrated his talent, Xiao Feng would likely try his hardest to retain him. Yet, after days of reflection, Renyu finally grasped why he had always refused to serve Xiao Feng—with his arrogant demeanor, he would inevitably be betrayed and killed.

  Only when Charles and the others' bodies crashed heavily from their horses did the nobles in the camp snap out of their reverie. The mocking expressions on their faces froze instantly, replaced by disbelieving terror. In this rigidly hierarchical empire, killing a few commoner servants was merely a game among nobles. But openly shooting down nobles, who had struck at the most sensitive nerve of the entire ruling class.

  Well-trained spearmen advanced rapidly under crossbow cover, while twenty soldiers tasked solely with finishing off the dead methodically inspected each corpse. Sharp spear tips pierced vital points with precision, ensuring no feigned casualty could escape. This coldly professional battlefield cleanup made the surviving nobles fully realize—they were facing not some belated hunting party, but a professional army sent specifically to exterminate them.

  Panic spread through the camp like a plague. Some nobles frantically grabbed weapons, attempting to organize a semblance of defense; more, however, were ashen-faced, scrambling onto their horses in a desperate attempt to flee. Yet Yun Chenhe had already laid a trap—leaving no survivors was the supreme directive of this operation.

  As the distance closed to a hundred meters, the second volley of crossbow bolts erupted. There was no thunderous roar of firearms, no obscuring smoke—only the hum of bowstrings vibrating the air. Soldiers cranked the winches with bicycle-like speed, converting muscle power into potential energy stored in spring-steel strings, ultimately unleashing deadly kinetic force through finger-thick bolts.

  The nobles attempting to form defensive formations saw their courage instantly shattered by this metal storm. One fully-armored knight narrowly dodged the hail of arrows, only to be met by a giant bolt streaking toward him like a meteor—Yun Chenhe himself had drawn the heavy bow, a weapon only a Combat Evolution Officer could master. The arrow pierced the knight's faceplate, pinning his head firmly to the ground. The entire sequence flowed with effortless grace and supreme elegance.

  "Brilliant!" Renyu couldn't help but exclaim. Even with his superhuman physical prowess, such masterful archery was beyond his reach.

  Some cavalry attempted to break formation and regroup, only to despairingly realize they couldn't accelerate in time. In an instant, they collided head-on with a moving wall of steel—the conscripts' pike formation advancing in perfect unison. Each spear held an identical angle, its tip glinting with the cold gleam of death in the sunlight.

  "Lances forward!" At the command, hundreds of triangular-tipped spears thrust simultaneously. Before the panicked noble retainers could react, excruciating pain pierced their chests—glancing down, they saw the peculiar triangular points had pierced through their leather armor, blood gushing from the grooves. The executioners who had been savagely slaughtering civilians just an hour ago now let out equally piercing screams of agony.

  "I am the first heir of the Golden Silk Grass family! I can pay ransom—" a young noble cried out, his voice thick with despair. This plea for mercy acted like a fuse, igniting the nobles' last desperate will to survive. Promises of ransom echoed across the battlefield, only to be met with even more ruthless stabbing. The spear formation advanced without slowing, each thrust claiming dozens of lives.

  Those nobles who attempted to flee met equally grim fates. Knights who managed to break through the encirclement were swiftly and precisely shot down by crossbowmen. Occasionally, a knight of extraordinary strength broke through the hail of arrows only to face a far more terrifying foe—Renyu. His sword moved with lightning speed; a single, casual flick sliced through a knight's throat as effortlessly as swatting a mosquito. Falling, the knights died without understanding why their armor seemed as flimsy as paper against this seemingly ordinary iron blade.

  In desperation, a few "clever ones" devised a plan to blend into the throng of captives. They discarded their weapons, tore their fine garments, and frantically pushed their way into the crowd of shackled commoners, silently praying this demonic army would depart after slaughtering all conspicuous targets. What they didn't know was that Yun Chenhe had anticipated this move—every captive underwent rigorous screening, and any noble attempting to slip through would pay a far heavier price.

  The battlefield gradually fell silent, filled only with the moans of the wounded and the crackling of flames. Renyu stood amidst the field strewn with corpses, gazing at the rescued civilians. The fear in their eyes slowly faded, replaced by a complex mix of emotions—relief at surviving the ordeal, uncertainty about the future, and a hint of indescribable hope.