When he emerged from the woods, parted the thick wild grass, and looked up to peer outside, he was instantly stunned by the scene before his eyes.

Chapter 0004: A Staggering Display of Skill

Outside the woods was a boundless, endless grassland. Blue sky, white clouds, green grass—normally the beauty of the countryside, but at this moment, there was nothing beautiful about it, only the carnage of blood and tears.

On the grassland, thousands of people were locked in a life-and-death struggle. One side wore black helmets, black clothes, and black armor, exactly the same attire as William Carter was wearing now. The other side was clad in uniform silver-white iron armor, gleaming and dazzling under the sunlight, almost blinding to the eye.

The fighting between the two sides could no longer be described as fierce—it was a true, brutal battle, where it was either you die or I live. On the battlefield, people swung their weapons, trying every possible way to kill their opponents. Large numbers of people fell wounded, and immediately more surged forward. All kinds of weapons fell together, hacking the fallen into minced flesh.

William Carter had killed many people and participated in many large-scale gang fights, but he had never seen such a real and brutal battle scene, nor had he ever seen people so crazed, almost like wild beasts. At this moment, he was stunned by what he saw.

“Ah—”

William Carter was lying in the grass, his head poking out to look around. Just as he was dazed and dumbfounded, a warhorse charged over from his right. On its back was a knight in silver helmet and armor, eyes bloodshot, staring fixedly at William Carter's head. The knight thrust his spear forward, the tip aimed straight at William Carter's neck.

The warhorse was moving too fast, like an arrow leaving the bowstring. William Carter, still in shock, had no idea that danger was already upon him.

At this critical moment, a middle-aged man in black armor suddenly lunged at William Carter. With a muffled thud, both William Carter and the man tumbled into the grass together. At the same time, with a whoosh, the warhorse swept past them, the knight’s spear grazing the tops of their heads.

“……％—￥—”

The middle-aged man sat up from the ground, gasping for breath, grabbing William Carter by the collar and roaring a question at him.

His speech sounded strange and foreign. William Carter could not understand a word. He had traveled to many places in China and could distinguish various dialects, but this man’s words didn’t sound like any dialect he knew. Although he didn’t know what the man was saying, he understood that this middle-aged man had just saved his life.

William Carter looked the man in the eye, opened his mouth to speak, wanting to ask where this place was and who these people were. But on second thought, he swallowed his words. He couldn’t understand the man, and the man probably wouldn’t understand him either. The only reason this man had saved him was because of his outfit—clearly, he had mistaken him for an ally. If he spoke and the man couldn’t understand, he might be mistaken for a spy. In this bizarre and dangerous situation, if both sides took him for an enemy, he’d be in real trouble.

A harsh and brutal childhood had made William Carter suspicious and cautious by nature.

He didn’t ask any questions, just opened his mouth and made some “ah ah” sounds.

The middle-aged man was taken aback and asked another question.

William Carter didn’t know what he was asking, so he just nodded.

The man shook his head and sighed, a look of regret in his eyes. William Carter realized the man had taken him for a mute. The man wanted to say more, but the knight who had charged past earlier turned his horse around and came back, his face twisted in rage, shouting furiously, clearly furious that he hadn’t killed William Carter with his last thrust.

By now, William Carter had regained his senses. Seeing the knight charging at him again, a fierce glint flashed in his eyes. He pushed the middle-aged man aside and sprang out of the grass, standing on open ground, gripping his spear in one hand, watching as the knight spurred his horse straight at him.

The middle-aged man who had just saved William Carter was shocked, shouting at William Carter to get out of the way. In his eyes, a foot soldier trying to take on a cavalryman alone was suicide.

William Carter didn’t move. He had never known what it meant to back down.

The knight drew closer and closer. William Carter could even see the cold, cruel smile on his face.

He was smiling too, but his smile was even colder and more sinister.

In an instant, the knight was upon him, thrusting his spear fiercely at William Carter's chest.

William Carter's previously upright body suddenly moved—without any warning, he shifted sideways half a meter like lightning, dodging the spear’s tip and the horse’s charge. At the same time, he lifted his own spear, and with a squelch, the tip stabbed right into the knight’s throat.

William Carter hadn’t used much force, but the momentum of the charging horse was too great. The knight’s neck was instantly pierced through, and before he could even cry out, he toppled from his horse, hitting the ground with a thud, eyes wide open, motionless—dead on the spot. The riderless horse neighed shrilly and bolted away in panic.