Chapter Eighty-One: The Battle of the Orcish King’s Tribe

His confusion lasted only two days, and when he saw the mage corps arriving with the last batch of supplies, he finally understood.

Along with the mage corps came a shipment of war machines—over twenty catapults, including six heavy ones with counterweights, and two battering rams.

Once everyone had assembled, the commander gave the order. The mage corps stepped forward, and Chu Cheng was surprised to see Grand Mage Erin at the center.

A dozen mages combined their powers to freeze a section of the river, more than two hundred meters long.

The thick layer of ice could bear the weight of thousands of troops. As the heavy horn sounded, the human army marched directly across the frozen river, launching an assault on the opposite bank.

The orc army on the far side was thrown into chaos, but they did not retreat. With their own horns blaring, they stood their ground and engaged the humans in fierce combat.

Chu Cheng blended in with the front ranks, charging across the ice and plunging into the mass of orcs on the river slope.

And then, the battle unfolded much as it had before.

In the midst of the chaotic melee, his talent for blending into the fray was perfectly suited.

For now, he cared little for anything else—his first priority was to slaughter two or three thousand orc soldiers and push his scenario rating up to five stars plus.

Agonized screams, flying blood, and brutal slaughter spread across the riverbank; in an instant, countless lives were snuffed out.

Chu Cheng wielded twin blades, fully focused as he fought his opponents one after another.

He swung his blades, skillfully parrying or deflecting the wild attacks of the surrounding orcs, his hands stabbing rapidly and striking at eyes, ears, throats—vital points.

Though he had not undergone specialized training, all his battles over the past months had been fought with two one-handed swords. With such a wealth of combat experience, his skill with single-handed blades had advanced from mastery to expert level.

This far exceeded the average for his level, and for the orcs, it was overwhelming.

His base attack, after stacking centaur blood to the limit, was 194. Orc warriors in their teens had low defenses; after subtracting their protection, he still dealt around 160 damage, plus 37 from the Void Mark, nearly two hundred in total.

Ordinary orcs had only about five hundred health. One stroke dealt two hundred; two left them gravely wounded and near death; three would kill them outright.

With the extra hundred true damage from the Spatial Mark, two blows were enough to kill.

He was too lazy to cast marks on every minor foe, reserving them for elites and bosses.

With a wet sound, his blades sank deep into the throat of an orc, spraying blood across his face.

He wiped it away casually, twisted his wrist to deflect a thrusting spear, and stabbed again.

He bent his back as four spears and three clubs slammed into him, shimmering ripples flashed, and ten bewildered figures collapsed in the distance.

Skill and talent worked in tandem; even as he endured damage, he continued to hone his weapon techniques.

He could kill ten orcs each round, and to maximize his lethality, he targeted ordinary warriors around level ten.

In just those brief ten or so minutes, he had slain over a thousand orcs by rebounding attacks.

The area around him was littered with corpses that had died in inexplicable ways.

His frenzy of slaughter made him lose track of time; everything he saw and felt was consumed by madness, his blades swinging mechanically and ceaselessly.

In this state, his combat experience and skills grew rapidly, as if he were experiencing a profound realization.

His obsession with killing eventually drew the attention of the orc champions. One orc commander took a javelin from the hands of an elite and hurled it at him.

Immersed in slaughter, Chu Cheng's powerful senses detected the incoming murderous intent, and he reflexively crossed his blades.

With a metallic clang, enormous force shattered his crossed blades, and the javelin pierced through his thick plate armor, driving deep into his abdomen.

A damage value of -1265 flashed before his eyes, snapping him out of his killing trance.

He immediately looked up at his attacker, cast a mark, pulled out the javelin, clutched his wound, and rolled backward, vanishing from sight.

Chu Cheng was never one to suffer in silence; if he was stabbed once, he would repay with a thousand cuts.

With his target marked, every rebound strike would now count against it.

He hovered at the edge of his talent's rebound limit, constantly shifting position. If the orc commander pursued him, he retreated toward the human ranks, staying just out of reach, infuriating his foe to the point of incoherent rage.

Chu Cheng often marveled at how overpowered his talent was. These commanders, with their terrifying level-forty templates, had basic attacks approaching two thousand, some even higher. He could never withstand them head-on.

But thanks to his upgraded talent, as long as the conditions were met, he could solo them without taking damage.

After countless rounds of this cat-and-mouse game, he finally wore the orc commander down with rebound attacks.

The moment the commander collapsed, Chu Cheng immediately moved toward the fallen body.

A commander over level forty meant a loot chest with rare-grade equipment.

But as he rudely pushed aside the orcs and approached the place where the commander had fallen, he suddenly stopped, a look of surprise on his face.

He saw the corpse of the orc commander, but there was no loot chest as expected. That did not surprise him as much as what he saw—a living orc commander beside the corpse, identical in every way.

Not only was the physique, template, and skin color the same, even the name matched: Commander Rakzo.

"Immotal?"

The standing Commander Rakzo turned, smiled familiarly, and extended his right hand. In his palm hovered a red loot chest.

"Wait, how can he see the loot chest?"

Chu Cheng was deeply shocked.

According to the rules, natives of the Chaos Domain could not see loot chests; only humans with destiny, or other destiny civilizations, could see them, those with bodies governed by the law of data.

"Could he be from another destiny civilization?"

"But he isn't!"

He had never met a visitor from another destiny civilization, but the school had taught that when two individuals from different destinies met, they would sense something special.

He felt nothing of the sort now, which meant this so-called Immotal, the Abyssal Demon, was not disguising himself as a member of another destiny civilization.

At this moment, Chu Cheng's vigilance was at its peak.

He instinctively stepped back, not daring to accept the loot chest.

Immotal paused a moment at his reaction, then quickly understood and explained,

"Perhaps you're too nervous. It's not only your kind who can see this."

Chu Cheng remained silent, not believing a word.

Immotal shrugged, withdrew the loot chest, and said,

"Maybe you can ask your clan about it. The item is with me; you can come for it anytime."

With that, he turned and walked away into the depths of the orc ranks, the surrounding orcs parting as if they hadn't seen him.

Chu Cheng soon looked away, pressing the matter to the back of his mind, planning to ask his homeroom teacher about it after defeating the orcs.

A series of massive fireballs arced across the dry river, crashing into the orc army.

With violent explosions, countless orcs were reduced to charcoal in the raging flames.

As the battle dragged on, the human commander lost patience, and the mage corps began their assault.