The barren southern wasteland of Greenfield City.
It is December, and the winter land should be dry and desolate. Yet here, the earth is churned and scarred—a single, most prominent deep trench stretches for nearly five hundred meters.
It is like a deep wound, a scar etched into the earth.
Its presence reveals the lingering violence, casting silence over the entire field.
The scar-like trench is four or five meters wide, jagged and uneven, as if plowed by countless blades. The frozen earth is exposed, rocks shattered to rubble. Occasionally, a few stubborn green grasses lie flattened and ruined... The trench begins at the site of the bloody battle and stretches all the way to Andrew Han's feet.
"It's dead."
"Finally killed it."
At this moment, only a single thought remains in Andrew Han's mind—nothing else. He stares blankly at the blood-red giant bull lying on the ground.
Demons and Specters are cunning and treacherous.
Feigning death, concealing breath, traps—there are endless schemes and tricks. But before Inspiration, not even the slightest detail escapes notice.
Clearly.
The savage, desperate malice has finally dissipated.
Ahead.
The blood-red giant bull Demon, nearly nine meters tall, has had its monstrous body almost completely destroyed. Its horns are shattered, and the scales and protruding bones on its body have all been broken. It lies lifeless on the ground.
Today, a Martial Lord–class Demon has died here.
The twilight glow still shines, the bleak cold wind continues to blow, and in the deserted wasteland, not a single sound can be heard.
Drip.
Blood drips from the wound on the back of his right hand.
The blood, gleaming with a metallic sheen, strikes the broken earth, making a soft sound.
"The second time."
"The first time was when I killed Jack Wu in a fit of rage. Now, this is the second time."
As thoughts flashed through his mind, Andrew Han felt a hint of regret—but what he felt even more was a bittersweet sense of fulfillment, gratitude, and a cathartic relief.
I once swore to intercept every threat, to guard this land.
We of the Defense Formation fight to the death without retreat, willing to exhaust every last breath.
......
Twilight continued to shine, the fading sunlight spilling across the land.
A biting northern wind blew, white clouds drifting slowly overhead.
Andrew Han crouched down, tending to Captain Warren Wang's injuries.
His blood-stained face broke into a grateful, tearful smile, eyes squinting with relief.
Grateful to whom?
He wasn’t sure—perhaps he was grateful to fate itself, in all its unpredictability.
Warren Wang survived, though his right arm was shattered to pieces... Eric Chen had collapsed into unconsciousness, his knees barely held together by shreds of flesh... Carter Yan, usually so refined, now had a face twisted beyond recognition, but he was probably still alive... The blood-red giant bull Demon had wanted to devour them, one by one.
It was far too confident.
The blood-red giant bull Demon’s arrogance came from its unstoppable Martial Lord power. It only wanted to savor its meal, then rampage into human settlements for a massacre.
But in the end, it was a pity.
No one could have imagined that someone like Andrew Han would exist in this world.
Advancing to the Martial General Realm mid-battle, instantly mastering Unity-level techniques, unleashing a terrifying Berserker State—all three combined in one body, igniting a thousand radiances in a single heroic burst. That was truly fearsome.
A Martial Lord–class Demon—so what?
It still had to die!
......