He was pondering when suddenly a whistling sound arose from the direction of the valley entrance, growing from distant to near, from high to low. William Carter instinctively looked up, his eyes instantly widening in shock. Countless black-feathered arrows were flying through the sky, so numerous they blotted out the sun like a vast black curtain, nearly obscuring the sunlight. These arrows, dense as raindrops, were hurtling rapidly toward his position.

“Ah?” William Carter had never seen such a sight in his life and couldn’t help but cry out in alarm, instinctively crouching down.

“Puff, puff, puff—”

“Ah... ya...”

The valley was open and empty, with nowhere to hide or take cover. The rain of arrows poured down almost unimpeded.

In an instant, the sounds of metal clashing, the dull thuds of bodies being pierced, and heart-wrenching screams all blended together. The dense, massive, and ferocious arrow formation was like the outstretched hand of death, mercilessly ravaging every living thing it could reach.

The first to suffer were the soldiers who had thrown away their shields while fleeing. With no protection to block the whistling arrows, their bodies were instantly turned into pincushions, collapsing into pools of blood like porcupines.

Even the soldiers holding shields didn’t last long. Though the shields protected their upper bodies, they couldn’t shield their legs and feet. Arrows frequently pierced through soldiers’ legs and feet, sending them screaming to the ground. Before they could get up, the next wave of arrows left them mangled and bloody.

This was not a battle, but a one-sided massacre.

Chapter 0006: A Deadly Arrow

Of the more than three thousand soldiers, over half had perished in an instant under the fierce arrow barrage.

William Carter was skilled, but even the best skills were insignificant under such a dense rain of arrows. He crouched low to the ground, making himself as small as possible, gripping half a spear tightly in one hand, knocking down the occasional arrow that flew his way. In just a short while, he was drenched in sweat.

This can’t go on! William Carter quickly wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, turned his head, and saw that the base of the cliff at the edge of the valley was less affected by the arrow rain. He made a snap decision, grabbed the clothes of the middle-aged man beside him, and urged, “Let’s hide over there!” In his urgency, he no longer cared to pretend to be mute, nor whether the other could understand him—he just pulled hard on the man’s clothes and ran toward the base of the cliff. But after a few tugs, the man didn’t move an inch, as if he had no intention of following. William Carter grew anxious and shouted, “Why aren’t you moving? Are you just going to stay here and wait to die...”

Halfway through, he swallowed the rest of his words. The man didn’t refuse to follow—he simply couldn’t move anymore. At some point, a black-feathered arrow had struck his helmet, the force so great it pierced the iron and went straight through his head, the arrowhead protruding from the back of his skull, crimson blood dripping down.

A fatal arrow—he hadn’t even had time to cry out before dying.

Just moments ago, this man had been alive and well, the ‘uncle’ who had even saved his life not long before. In the blink of an eye, he was dead. William Carter was momentarily stunned, staring wide-eyed at the corpse, dazed.

But in that instant of distraction, a sharp arrow, hissing through the air, struck his shoulder with a heavy thud. His clothes and flesh were instantly pierced, the iron arrowhead burying deep into his flesh.

“Ugh...” Even someone as tough as William Carter couldn’t help but let out a muffled groan of pain, the force knocking his half-crouched body down onto his rear.

There was no time to catch his breath—several more sharp arrows flew his way. Without thinking, William Carter grabbed the arrow sticking out of his shoulder and yanked it out with a jerk. With a wet squelch, the arrow was forcibly pulled free, a spurt of blood following. The searing pain that shot through his bones didn’t even make him frown; instead, the corners of his mouth curled up.

Like a startled rabbit, he dove toward the base of the cliff.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—three sharp arrows whistled past, barely missing his body.

William Carter moved fast, his forward momentum great. He leapt three meters through the air, and upon landing, rolled forward without pause. In just twenty meters, he blocked five arrows and dodged at least twenty more.

When he finally made it to the base of the cliff, he let out a long, heavy breath. Just as he had judged, few arrows reached the base of the cliff; many were blocked midair by protruding rocks, and the occasional arrow that did make it through was no longer a serious threat to William Carter.

Only now did he have a chance to carefully observe the situation in the valley.

He didn’t know how many volleys the enemy had fired, but the entire valley was covered with a dense layer of arrows, black-feathered shafts sticking out of the ground in every direction, forming a dark mass. The soldiers’ corpses were buried beneath them, but the arrows couldn’t hide the crimson blood, which flowed through the cracks in the rocks, gathering into small streams—a ghastly sight.

Strangely, the blood kept flowing toward his side, but William Carter didn’t pay it much mind, thinking it was just because the ground was lower on his side.

The few soldiers who had survived the arrow barrage were still wailing in pain, their cries and shrieks echoing like sounds from hell—or perhaps, at this moment, the valley had already become hell itself.