Maybe Their Patrols Are Just Hiding Somewhere Asleep

Hearing that Ian Song was actually asking him for ten Martial Saints, Raymond Lei couldn't help but widen his eyes. "Do you think Martial Saints are cabbages? No way I'm giving you ten—two at most."

Heh heh!

Ian Song just smiled and said nothing.

Raymond Lei was very willing to win this war without losing a single soldier, but handing over ten Martial Saints to Ian Song was a real problem. After all, there were only eighteen Martial Saints in total on the Blood River Battlefield, including himself. If he gave away ten, Blood River City would be left dangerously empty—if a top expert attacked, they'd be stretched far too thin.

In his mind, Blood River City needed at least six Martial Saints to defend it.

So, the most he could offer Ian Song was six Martial Saints.

But since this kid kept pulling off miracles, he still held out hope—so he offered two more. If eight Martial Saints could win the war, that would be perfect.

But after he offered two Martial Saints, that kid just gave a weird little 'heh heh.' Was that agreement? Or disagreement?

After thinking it over, he decided that the kid was refusing.

So he tried probing: "How about I add one more? You have to understand my situation—I don't have enough men either!"

"I can understand that!" Ian Song nodded.

Raymond Lei couldn't help but feel a surge of joy. "So you're agreeing?"

"Nope!" Ian Song replied bluntly.

"Uh..." Raymond Lei froze. "Then why'd you nod if you weren't agreeing?"

Ian Song had just played Raymond Lei for a fool, and he was pretty pleased about it. He grinned, "I nodded because I understand your point. But understanding is one thing—principle is another!"

Raymond Lei almost felt like coughing up blood. He slapped the table: "Four. That's the max—I can't give you any more!"

Seeing this, Ian Song pulled out a bottle of Lady Lei's homemade honey wine from his storage ring, took a sip, and looked at Raymond Lei with a teasing smile. "Commander, I think you've got it wrong. Beating back the Strongarm Bull Devil army doesn't really have much to do with me. If you want to give people, give them; if not, forget it. Just treat what I said earlier as a joke!"

"A joke!"

Raymond Lei's face instantly turned ugly, and he felt stifled inside. How dare this kid flip the table on him? Weren't they negotiating? How did it suddenly turn into table-flipping? This kid really had no sense of decorum.

Raymond Lei cursed Ian Song half to death in his heart, but still had to force out a smile. "What are you playing at, Little Huang? We're in the middle of negotiations here. If four won't do, how about five? That should work, right?"

Fiona Li, standing nearby, was left dumbfounded. But seeing Raymond Lei get stumped by Ian Song, she found it pretty satisfying.

Suddenly, Ian Song stretched lazily. "Ah, it's getting late. After a whole night of fighting, we should head back and rest. Don't you think so, Brother Li?"

"Absolutely! Absolutely!" Fiona Li nodded repeatedly.

"Absolutely my ass! What are you butting in for? Get out!"

He couldn't yell at Ian Song, but when it came to Fiona Li, Raymond Lei had no reservations.

"Heh heh, Commander, you're right. I'll get lost right away!"

Fiona Li just smiled and walked out without a care.

"Wait up, Brother Li! Let's go together!" Ian Song called out.

"Stop! Both of you, stay right there!"

Raymond Lei shouted.

"Commander, any other instructions?" Ian Song looked at him playfully.

Raymond Lei waved his hand impatiently. "Fine, I'm done playing games. Six Martial Saints is the absolute max—I really can't give you more!"

"Six it is! Commander, don't forget to have them report to my Assassin Camp!" Ian Song said with a grin. He'd only asked for ten to push his luck; getting six was already a win.

Raymond Lei waved them off like swatting flies. "Go on, get out of here! Just seeing you makes me want to curse!"

"Haha, then we'll take our leave!"

The next day.

The Assassin Camp gained six new members: two late-stage Martial Saints and four mid-stage Martial Saints.

All six newcomers treated Ian Song, their early-Grandmaster commander, with extra respect. Before arriving, they'd heard that under this little captain, every member of the Assassin Camp had already earned a First-Class Military Merit.

And both Fiona Li and Marcus Meng had even earned two First-Class Merits each.

Plus, in last night's second operation, they had killed five Strongarm Bull Devil ten-thousand-man commanders, dozens of thousand-man captains, and nearly forty thousand Strongarm Bull Devil troops. This achievement had already been reported to the Military Council, and everyone who participated would at least get a Second-Class Merit—if they were lucky, maybe even a First-Class Merit.

Although the Human and Devil Races have fought for years, they've shown restraint over the past decade—no large-scale wars have broken out.

With no wars to fight, it was hard for soldiers to earn merit.

Before Ian Song arrived at Blood River City, not even Third-Class Merit had been awarded, let alone Second-Class Merit.

Now that there was a chance to earn merit, only a fool wouldn't treat this little captain with respect.

But the arrival of new members made the veterans nervous—they worried about losing out on merit, so everyone rushed to pledge loyalty to Ian Song, afraid he'd leave them out of the next mission.

Meanwhile, on the Blood River Battlefield...

Lance Xuanyuan's trusted aide finally returned from Sanctum Martial Academy, bringing five flying-type spirit beasts.

Five flying-type spirit beasts were enough to carry all of Special Patrol Team One across the Blood River.

After being idle so long—and seeing Leon Huang pull ahead by more than two thousand points—Lance Xuanyuan decided to cross the river under cover of night and ambush the Strongarm Bull Devil patrol teams.

There were still more than three hours until dark.

Lance Xuanyuan felt like time was crawling slower than usual.

So he gathered all ten of his Grandmaster-level subordinates to plan the assassination after crossing the river.

Finally, night fell.

At Lance Xuanyuan's order, all ninety-nine subordinates boarded the flying spirit beasts and headed for the opposite bank.

In less than half a刻, Lance Xuanyuan and his men reached the far side of the Blood River.

"Zane, scout out the Strongarm Bull Devil patrols!" Lance Xuanyuan hid everyone, then ordered his trusted aide.

Zane Cai, a late-stage Grandmaster, had followed Lance Xuanyuan for years.

He was fast and skilled at stealth—perfect for scouting out Strongarm Bull Devil patrols.

An hour later.

Zane Cai returned. "Young Master, I didn’t find any sign of Strongarm Bull Devil patrols. It seems they haven’t sent out any patrols at all!"

"What? No patrols at all? Those Strongarm Bull Devils are way too arrogant!"

Lance Xuanyuan was deeply disappointed—he'd gone to all the trouble of getting five flying spirit beasts just to ambush Strongarm Bull Devil patrols, but now his whole plan was ruined because there were no patrols to attack.

"Damn it, is fate itself helping Leon Huang?"

Unwilling to accept it, he decided to scout personally—maybe the Strongarm Bull Devil patrols were just hiding somewhere, sleeping?

Just as Lance Xuanyuan ordered his men to wait in place and went off to investigate himself, Ian Song teleported near the newly regrouped Strongarm Bull Devil encampment.