“It wasn’t him, it was a soldier who was killed.” Nolan said with certainty.

He knew that boy well—no matter how much pain he was in, he would never let out such a desperate scream. He would just grit his teeth, and even if his teeth shattered, he wouldn’t utter a sound.

The Old Sir on the city wall also heard the scream. Although he couldn’t tell who was injured, he waited for a while and didn’t see the soldiers drag that lowborn’s corpse out of the town. That was enough to show that it was his own soldier who had died.

The Old Sir’s face turned ashen, cursing the most vile and venomous words in the world, but that was all he could do.

Obviously, cursing couldn’t solve anything.

On the street, the two soldiers who had survived by luck were terrified, all thoughts gone, and turned to run.

This kind of archery was too terrifying. The armor on their bodies and the shields in their hands gave them no sense of security at all.

Escape was the only way out.

This outcome was somewhat unexpected for Devon, but it didn’t affect his plan.

Devon quickly crawled out from under the grape trellis, pulled the wooden arrows from the three men’s eye sockets, then darted through several alleys, changed position, and continued to lie in wait.

In less than a minute, the soldier’s shrill scream attracted a large number of soldiers to rush over. This dragnet-style search was thrown into chaos from the very start, completely disrupted by Devon.

Hiding in the shadows, Devon quietly listened to the commotion in the town. After a long while, a squad of soldiers finally came in his direction.

They were probably frightened by the gruesome scene of that soldier just now, forming groups of four, a total of twenty men searching together.

This time, Devon didn’t aim for precision. When the group was still more than forty meters away, he began rapid firing.

‘Thwack’ ‘thwack’ ‘thwack’—three sounds almost in succession, nine arrows shot out like a rain of arrows. It was hard to imagine such a swift and fierce attack came from a single person!

These nine arrows still flew toward nine different targets, but the accuracy was much worse than last time.

Of the nine arrows, only four successfully pierced the soldiers’ eye sockets. The other five either hit helmets or chainmail.

At this moment, the weakness of Devon’s weapon became apparent.

The force that could be carried by the wooden arrows was too weak to penetrate the enemy’s armor. When they hit the soldiers, it only hurt a bit, but didn’t hinder their movement.

However, the four corpses that fell still terrified the remaining soldiers. The survivors hurriedly looked for places to hide, not daring to show themselves for a while.

The standoff lasted just over a minute.

Some bolder soldiers poked their heads out to look into the alley, only to see a black shadow flash by.

Immediately, from another direction came the twang of a bowstring, and three more arrows flew out, hitting three exposed soldiers.

This time, there was no luck—they all died.

This was just the beginning. After a while, from a third direction came another bowstring’s twang, and three arrows shot out like phantoms.

Two of them successfully struck the eyes of two soldiers who had poked their heads out to observe, while the third was even more terrifying—it slipped through the gap in a soldier’s thick leather neck guard and pierced straight through his throat.

What was shocking was that this soldier had clearly been ducking his head, curling up his body, hiding well, yet was struck down by misfortune for no apparent reason.

The unlucky man fell to the ground, clutching his throat with both hands, making a ‘gurgling’ sound as his airway was blocked by blood.

A nearby soldier, also ducking and hiding, saw this horrifying scene. Staring at the blood bubbles gurgling from his comrade’s neck and smelling the nauseating scent of blood, his mind went blank.

He stood up and ran for his life. As he ran, he screamed hysterically, “He’s not alone! He’s definitely not alone!”

The soldier had been scared witless.

Devon didn’t shoot at the fleeing soldier, letting him disappear around the street corner while shouting. Because this was a perfect blow to the enemy’s morale.

Once one soldier ran, the remaining eight lost all courage. After hesitating for a moment, they also ran.

They couldn’t comprehend this kind of archery, nor the enemy’s ghostly abilities.

Devon let out a sigh of relief, ran out again, and began collecting the wooden arrows from the corpses. He had fired fifteen arrows, three were broken, and twelve were still usable.

He wiped the blood off the arrows, put them back in his quiver, crouched down, and slipped into another alley, preparing for the next hunt.

However, the prey didn’t arrive for a long time.

The fleeing soldiers had done their job well—they spread the terror of the archer in the town perfectly.

The situation in the town became increasingly confusing. It really seemed, as those soldiers said, that there was more than one enemy in the town.

In the soldiers’ eyes, this ordinary little town suddenly became a place of peril.

So, under the astonished gazes of everyone on the hillside, more than eighty soldiers gathered together, withdrew from the town, and returned to the hillside.

At this point, less than an hour had passed. The castle soldiers, who had just been strutting about, full of arrogance and confidence, were now dejected and utterly demoralized.