Emily Harris's delicate body trembled, and a chilling murderous aura surfaced in her previously blank eyes as she clung tightly to William Reed's waist.

William Reed let out a sigh of relief in his heart. In a life-or-death moment like this, the last thing you want is for your companion to suddenly act stubborn and drag you down. But Emily Harris understood the bigger picture and didn't make trouble, which truly comforted William Reed. He stuffed the iron box into her arms, squeezed his legs against the horse's belly, and shouted in a deep, forceful voice, "Hyah!"

The scruffy nag, spurred on, neighed loudly and dashed forward across the wet, muddy ground.

Just as William Reed rode out of the small village, a large group of cavalry was already approaching from the left rear, closing in on the village. The dark mass, like a mighty flood, must have numbered a hundred or two. The sharp-eyed among them spotted William Reed and his companion fleeing on horseback.

From afar came a whistling sound, and a detachment of several dozen riders broke off from the main group, veering at an angle to race ahead of William Reed, clearly intending to intercept him.

William Reed was no fool; he wouldn't charge straight into them. Even several dozen riders were more than he could handle head-on. Without hesitation, he pulled the horse's head around and galloped off in another direction. His battle energy was channeled only through his legs into the scruffy horse. Stimulated by the thunder-attribute battle energy, the horse's ferocity and potential were unleashed, and it bolted at full speed.

Although there were two riders on one horse, Emily Harris was light, and with the nag going wild, their speed was surprisingly fast—faster, in fact, than that group of cavalry.

But the enemy cavalry, though not regular troops on the surface, were clearly experienced. They didn't foolishly chase straight after, which would only make them fall further behind. Instead, they split into three groups, each with a dozen or so riders. The central group continued the pursuit from behind, while the left and right flanks angled their horses outward, racing to the sides.

At a slant, they formed a loose but inescapable net, forcing William Reed to head straight forward. But ahead lay the Hengduan Mountains. The so-called Hengduan Mountains referred to a range stretching thousands of miles, but in reality, the terrain at the foot of the mountains was extremely complex—there could be ravines, lakes, miasma-filled swamps, and endless, man-eating jungles.

At this moment, William Reed happened to ride up onto a high ground. Looking out from the height, his heart sank slightly, and he silently cursed, "This is bad."

……

Chapter 11: A Desperate Battle

Continuing forward from here led to a low valley backed by mountains.

In an ordinary place, a sunken valley wouldn't be much. But here, in a region of perpetual snow and freezing cold, such valleys often accumulated extremely deep snow. If a warhorse got stuck, it would be almost impossible to move.

But now, the encircling group of dozens of riders behind was closing in on William Reed.

If it had been the old William Reed, he might have lost his fighting spirit. But after months of tempering, his will was now firm and calm, and his tenacious character had helped him survive desperate situations time and again. Even if he were truly to die here, William Reed wouldn't so much as frown.

Fortunately, several miles to the left, there seemed to be a stretch of snow-covered pine forest.

"If we can't break through, we'll die here. Emily, get ready to fight."

After a low shout, he didn't hesitate—he turned the horse's head and charged down from the high ground, heading straight and aggressively toward the group of cavalry on the left.

Emily Harris remained silent, stuffing the iron box into her cotton coat. She drew her bow and arrow, her reddened eyes gleaming with a beast-like ferocity. When the two sides were only a dozen or so yards apart, Emily Harris leaned back, and as the nag jolted, she calmly drew the bowstring and let an arrow fly with a whoosh.

But she had clearly chosen the wrong target. The burly man leading the enemy was a Black Iron beginner-level warrior. Facing the whistling arrow, he shouted in a deep voice, swung his saber upward, and split the arrow in two.

The enemy also had skilled mounted archers. Even while galloping, they drew their bows and shot several sharp arrows straight at William Reed. But William Reed was no easy target either. With a sweep of his sword, Iceflame, he unleashed several tangible sword lights, knocking aside the incoming arrows.

With a fierce shout, he charged his horse at the leading Black Iron warrior. Sword light flashed, and in an instant, he knocked the man's saber aside. The sharp sword flickered with electric light, and with one stroke, he sliced off the man's head. Blood sprayed everywhere, and such a brutal killing method made the bandits momentarily freeze in fear, their limbs stiffening involuntarily.

That burly man had been a notable figure among the bandits, known for his ferocity and bravery, yet he was decapitated with a single stroke. Especially those closest, seeing the blood-soaked, imposing William Reed at close range, felt their hands and feet go cold, their movements slowing by several beats.

On the battlefield, the worst thing is to let fear take hold. Once afraid, you lose your courage, and without courage, death comes all the more swiftly.

William Reed squeezed the horse's belly, urging the nag into a wild charge. The Iceflame sword burst with dazzling light, as if even the air was filled with crackling electricity. In his desperate state, William Reed unleashed his repeatedly practiced battle techniques to the limit, wielding thunder and lightning to their utmost.

Suddenly, more than a dozen brilliant sword beams erupted, dazzling yet filled with a savage killing intent.