No explanation from David Cooper was needed—William Carter already knew how difficult it was to cultivate the Dark Flame. Not just for himself; even Henry Clark, whose cultivation had reached its peak back then, had never managed to reach the second level of the Dark Flame. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have ended up in a mutually destructive battle with Edward Harris, ultimately dying tragically at the hands of the villain Samuel Carter.

As they walked forward, William Carter suddenly stopped in his tracks and simultaneously pulled David Cooper to a halt beside him.

David Cooper, not knowing what was going on, looked at William Carter in confusion and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Shh!”

William Carter raised his index finger, signaling him to be quiet, and lowered his voice, saying, “There’s killing intent ahead.”

He hadn’t seen any enemies, nor heard any suspicious sounds, but William Carter could just sense danger ahead. His almost beast-like intuition was innate, far surpassing that of ordinary people, and was exceptionally accurate—one of the treasures that had saved his life many times.

David Cooper focused intently, looking ahead, but all he could see was dense shrubbery—no sign of any enemy. Yet William Carter’s expression was anything but joking, so David Cooper cautiously said, “I don’t see anything…”

“Step back!” With that, William Carter drew the sword he’d picked up on the battlefield and slowly advanced.

Rustle, rustle, rustle!

The surroundings seemed to fall silent all at once, leaving only the sound of him treading through the grass.

Watching from behind, David Cooper grew tense, his heart in his throat, eyes fixed unblinking on the path ahead.

As William Carter moved forward slowly, suddenly, a cold flash shot out from the bushes at his side, aiming straight for his neck.

The attack came so suddenly and so fast that anyone else wouldn’t have had time to dodge—might not even have seen it coming. But William Carter, with his extraordinary senses, tilted his body slightly at the very instant the cold light reached his neck, easily dodging the edge. Instantly, his steel sword flicked upward from below, and with a crisp snap in his ear, the cold flash was broken in two.

Only then did David Cooper behind him see clearly: what had shot out from the bushes was a spear, and William Carter’s sword had snapped it in half, the spearhead falling to the ground.

Such quick reflexes, such a swift sword! David Cooper instinctively touched his own neck, utterly convinced that if William Carter had swung that sword at him, he’d have no choice but to wait for death with his eyes open. At this moment, he was even more certain that following William Carter was the best choice he could make.

With a single stroke, William Carter cut the spear in two, drawing a scream from the attacker. The bushes shook, and a dark figure darted out—not charging at William Carter, but turning to flee.

The corners of William Carter’s mouth curled in a silent, cold smile. Without any visible preparation, he shot forward like lightning, and in the blink of an eye was behind the fleeing figure. He grabbed the back of the person’s collar with one hand, braced his other arm against the man’s lower back, and yanked forcefully while shouting, “Down!”

Despite the man’s heavy armor, William Carter’s pull flipped him over his own head and slammed him hard to the ground at his feet. Before the man could struggle to his feet, William Carter’s sword was already at his throat.

“Ah—” The burly man cried out in shock, and when he saw William Carter’s face, his eyes widened in astonishment. “It’s you?”

William Carter looked down carefully—he didn’t recognize the man, but the armor he wore was that of the Wind Nation.

Before he could speak, a rustling came from the surrounding bushes, and six or seven more Wind Nation soldiers burst out.

“It’s one of us! Don’t attack, we’re on the same side!” The burly man held at swordpoint by William Carter waved frantically at the others.

The others now saw William Carter clearly as well, and all lowered their weapons, crowding around and bombarding him with questions: “You’re not dead?” “You actually escaped!” “We all thought you were done for!” “…”

It took William Carter a moment to realize—these Wind Nation soldiers were the very ones he’d just rescued from the encirclement of the Ning Nation.

So it was them! Realizing it was a misunderstanding, William Carter slowly sheathed his sword and casually waved to David Cooper behind him.

The burly man who’d been thrown to the ground scrambled up, face flushed, tossed aside the broken spear, rubbed his hands, and said with an embarrassed laugh, “Uh… brother, I’m really sorry. I thought the Ning were chasing us, so I…”

Waving his hand impatiently, William Carter cut him off, asking irritably, “If you’re not running, what are you doing hiding here?”

Chapter 0012: A Hasty Retreat

The burly man lowered his head and said with a bitter smile, “The brothers really can’t run anymore.”

William Carter looked closely and saw that these soldiers were truly in a sorry state—everyone was wounded, covered in blood, their armor and weapons battered and broken, faces ashen, eyes sunken and bloodshot. They looked less like soldiers and more like refugees who hadn’t eaten or slept in days.

With a silent sigh, William Carter didn’t ask further. At this moment, David Cooper hurried over, beaming, and said, “So we’re all on the same side. You guys really gave us a scare just now.” As he spoke, his eyes darted, and he added, “Do you want to die or do you want to live?”

The soldiers were all stunned, not understanding what he meant.

David Cooper said, “If you want to die, just stay here. It won’t be long before the Ning pursuers catch up. If you want to live, come with us…”