It was obvious that he hadn’t completely blocked the force of Devon’s arrow and was injured.

Devon and Nolan exchanged a glance and said in unison, “Frost power!”

This was the power of the elements. On the continent, only warriors who had mastered elemental power were qualified to call themselves fighters; otherwise, they were just nobodies.

No wonder this mute servant was an elemental warrior—no wonder he was so troublesome!

Devon felt extremely frustrated. He hadn’t expected to provoke such a troublesome opponent. But there wasn’t a trace of fear in his heart; instead, his killing intent grew even stronger.

This time, he absolutely couldn’t let this mute escape. If he slipped away and hid in the shadows, waiting to ambush him, how could he survive?

If he didn’t kill him, Devon wouldn’t be at ease, and now was the best opportunity!

He shouted loudly, “Uncle, do you have any more iron arrows?”

Legend had it that powerful elemental warriors could slay dragons, their strength was earth-shattering, just like the Sword Saint Karein.

But this mute servant could only emit some white light and produce a bit of white mist, and when chased by a group of ordinary people, he panicked and fled for his life.

He’d been shot by an arrow, his hand was bleeding—so his skills were only so-so. As long as he had a strong bow and sharp arrows, he was confident he could shoot him dead on the spot!

Nolan spread his hands with a wry smile. “You know I only had two.”

Don’t be fooled by these low-quality cast iron arrows; in the small town, they were precious. Each one cost a silver coin, and the old mayor strictly controlled such weapons. Anyone who dared to forge them privately would face the gallows.

These iron arrows had been issued by the mayor a few months ago to kill a dark werewolf—three in total. Nolan had used one, and the remaining two were now all gone.

Devon remembered as well. He sighed regretfully, put down his strong bow, picked up his woodcutting axe, and strode after the mute servant.

Without iron arrows, he still had an axe!

Chapter Five: Chopped a Log

Although Devon had already given chase, the townsfolk looked at each other, hesitating about whether they should follow.

In the simple minds of the townspeople, these elemental warriors were powerful and mysterious. Precisely because they didn’t understand, they were afraid.

Fear suppressed their passion and anger, holding back their steps.

But there was one person in the crowd who didn’t hesitate at all—it was Devon’s old friend, Uncle Nolan. He shouted, “Everyone, go help! Don’t let Devon get bullied by an outsider!”

As he shouted, he grabbed a thick wooden stick from the street corner and strode after them.

His action immediately stirred the townspeople’s sense of solidarity. That’s right, there were so many of them—why should they fear a mere warrior?

That guy was injured anyway!

The strong men all rushed after them, following behind Nolan.

On the main street, the mute servant was running in front, and about fifty meters behind was Devon with his axe.

He was tall and burly, and now, striding forward, he was just a bit faster than the mute servant.

The distance between the two kept shrinking.

Further behind was a group of men from the town. They had neither the power of a frost warrior nor Devon’s natural strength, so they fell farther and farther behind the two in front.

But there were others in the town.

Many people didn’t even know what was going on. They just saw people running, shouting, and fleeing, so they joined the crowd and gave chase.

In the end, almost half the men in town were chasing after the mute servant.

In this situation, how could the mute servant dare stop and fight the young man? He only cared about running for his life, not even caring which way he went.

The webbing of his hand holding the dagger had split from the impact, blood covered his hand, and his entire right arm was numb and sore, making it hard to exert any strength.

His injured arm affected his balance, slowing his running speed considerably, and soon, the young man was about to catch up.

The distance between Devon and the mute servant was less than twenty meters, and he ran with even more vigor.

His heart thudded steadily—not fast, but each beat was powerful, driving his blood to surge through his body, providing him with boundless energy.

Inside him, the fire that had faded after chopping wood all night now flared up again, even more violently than the night before.

He felt as if this fire inside him was alive, stirring and surging, searching for an outlet, like a barrel of gunpowder inside him that had to explode.

His feet moved faster and faster, and the distance between him and the mute servant shrank rapidly.

Ten meters… five meters… one meter.

Now!

He suddenly lunged forward, raised his axe, and swung it hard at his opponent’s back.

With this movement, Devon felt all the hot blood in his body surge into the axe in his hand.

He was a woodcutter, chopping wood for ten years. He only knew how to chop!

But this move had been honed through hundreds of thousands of swings at logs and trees.

In Devon’s eyes, his opponent’s body was just like a log—he wasn’t chopping a person, but chopping wood, chopping a log called Frost Warrior.