Those who stayed in the army camp still have a chance to kill a thousand-man commander, even if it's difficult. But for those who left the camp,
it's almost impossible.
As for assassination, that's even more out of the question. Surrounded by a massive army, trying to kill a thousand-man commander is basically walking into a den of tigers—no different from throwing your life away.
So, for those System Hosts who left the camp, they're pretty much doomed to be eliminated.
Gotta admit, the System's creator is seriously crafty. Now it's not just about strength—it's a test of wisdom and analytical skills too.
Not long after,
those Hosts who'd left started coming back one after another, begging to rejoin the army. Every single one was ruthlessly turned away.
Even the five Hosts who'd originally left with Ian Song's group came back, sending him a telepathic message and begging him to help. They swore they'd follow his lead from now on.
"So, what do you guys think? Should I help plead their case?"
Ian gathered Mona Meng, Xavier Cheng, and the other eleven Hosts to explain the situation.
"I don't agree!" Mona Meng said.
"Me neither!" Xavier Cheng sneered. "They left because they were scared to die. Clearly, they never saw us as real comrades. So why should we save them now?"
Another Host agreed, "Exactly. Everyone has to pay the price for their choices. They made the wrong call, so they should bear the consequences."
One after another, the other Hosts voiced their opinions—they all didn't want Ian to help.
Their reasons sounded noble, but Ian knew the real motive was to thin out the competition. After all, from here on out, every Host except yourself is a future enemy. If you can knock out potential rivals without bloody conflict, why not?
Understanding this, Ian refused the five Hosts' request.
Just then,
a squad of soldiers charged out and started driving them away.
"Ian Song, just you wait—we won't let you off!"
After sending a venomous telepathic message, they sped off.
Soon after,
the day's battle kicked off again. First, the vanguard camp went at it.
Then came the clash between the main armies.
Unlike the chaotic vanguard brawls, the main armies fought in strict order. Each side formed battle arrays of ten thousand soldiers, fighting unit by unit.
Each array had a ten-thousand-man commander as its core, ten thousand-man commanders as nodes, and ten thousand soldiers as its body.
That meant everyone had a fixed position.
So Ian's plan to kill an enemy thousand-man commander on the battlefield was a bust.
For a moment, Ian looked pretty grim.
But just then, Mona Meng sent him a meaningful telepathic message: "The mission only requires us to kill a Creator-level thousand-man commander. It doesn't say they have to be from the enemy camp!"
With Mona's reminder, Ian's eyes lit up.
She was right—the mission never said the thousand-man commander had to be from the enemy side. So even killing an Eastprosperia commander would count.
That night,
Ian was cultivating inside his tent.
Suddenly,
a commotion broke out.
He instinctively released his divine sense and found that another thousand-man camp was in total chaos.
He quickly realized the reason: their thousand-man commander had been assassinated in his tent.
Instantly,
Ian's heart skipped a beat. He swept his divine sense over Mona Meng and the others' tents—everyone was accounted for.
"Who killed that thousand-man commander?"
Ian privately speculated, even though all eleven Hosts under his command were present, that didn't mean they couldn't have been the killers.
"Was it you?"
So Ian directly sent a telepathic message to Mona Meng.
"It wasn't me!"
Mona Meng replied.
Ian frowned. At first, he'd suspected Mona Meng—after all, she'd reminded him about the mission earlier that day. But she had no reason to lie to him about this. If it wasn't Mona, then who was it?
A thousand-man commander being killed in his own tent was no small matter.
So,
Even the ten-thousand-man commander got involved and ordered an investigation.
Unfortunately, with the camp so huge, there was nowhere to start searching. In the end, the whole thing fizzled out.
In the blink of an eye,
two more days passed.
On this day,
Ian's thousand-man camp was breached by the enemy, but Ian led his hundred-man unit and managed to hold the line, personally killing over three hundred enemies.
After the battle, Ian was rewarded with a thousand Primordial Soul Crystals, and each of his men received ten. Ian then took out over five hundred more crystals to share with his subordinates.
This boosted his prestige even further.
The next day,
the battle started again.
This time, Ian's thousand-man camp was in a rear position, just playing backup.
So by the end of the fight, Ian and his men hadn't encountered many enemies.
Four days had passed—six days left!
Mona Meng, Xavier Cheng, and the other Hosts all looked anxious.
"We have to figure out a way to act independently!"
Ian made up his mind.
That night, Ian quietly went to see the thousand-man commander.
"What? You want to act on your own?"
The thousand-man commander looked at Ian in surprise.
"Please, Commander, let me do this!" Ian said, offering up his remaining thousand-plus Primordial Soul Crystals.
The commander didn't take the crystals. Instead, he said, "Ian, you need to understand—this is a battlefield, not a joke. There are over a million people fighting here. What can a group of a hundred do? If you act alone, you're basically asking to get killed!"
"Please, Commander, let me do this!"
Ian stubbornly insisted.
The commander's face turned cold. "If you're so eager to die, fine—tomorrow, you can act on your own. And take your crystals back!"
"Thank you, Commander!"
Ian was overjoyed.
But just then, another uproar broke out. Ian and the commander both released their divine sense, quickly discovering the truth—another thousand-man commander had been assassinated in his tent.
"Damn it!"
The commander slammed the table in fury, then said to Ian, "Go back to your tent. I'll go check it out."
Not long after Ian returned to his tent, a large squad of soldiers marched toward him.
"He's the one who killed our commander—get him!"
One of them shouted.
Then the whole squad of soldiers rushed toward Ian's tent.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
The defensive formation flared, knocking all the soldiers back.
"What are you doing?"
The thousand-man commander arrived and demanded an explanation.
"Sir, the man inside that tent is the one who killed our commander!"
A soldier shouted angrily.
"Commander, please see the truth—it wasn't me!"
Ian stepped out of his tent, saluted the commander, and calmly repeated his denial. Inwardly, though, he was cold and grim—someone was trying to frame him.
"I saw it with my own eyes! Stop trying to talk your way out of this!"
The soldier gritted his teeth.
"When your commander was attacked, Ian was in my tent discussing business. So the assassin couldn't have been him!" the thousand-man commander said firmly.
"But the guy's face and aura were exactly like his!"
The soldier protested, unwilling to give up.
The commander snapped, "Idiot! Aura and appearance can be faked. If the assassin could kill a thousand-man commander, how could he possibly let a common soldier see his real face?"