It seemed that neither side could suppress the other. The brutal battle had already driven both men into a state of madness, pushing their inner battle energy to the limit to maintain the power of the weapons in their hands.

　　Their fierce fighting left devastation wherever they went—darkening the sky and earth, shattering mountains and rocks, and causing rows upon rows of stone houses to collapse to the ground. Everyone kept their distance, afraid of being caught in the crossfire.

　　The intense battle caused Charles Bennett's battle energy to deplete rapidly. He knew he had to end this quickly, or the consequences would be unbearable.

　　Bang!

　　The azure spear once again turned into a streak of light, clashing with the blood-red saber. Charles Bennett was instantly knocked back dozens of yards. At the same time, his other palm glowed with blue light, shattering the incoming blade energy in front of him, then unexpectedly turned to the side and subdued a man who seemed to be a steward of the Black Mountain tribe, intending to force him to reveal the hostage's whereabouts.

　　Perhaps thinking that Charles Bennett was already surrounded, the steward trembled, opened his mouth, but looked determined to die without talking.

　　Seeing this, a fierce glint flashed in Charles Bennett's blood-red eyes. He instantly crushed the man's throat and, with a flick of his hand, threw the body in the direction from which Robert Strong was pursuing.

　　The steward stared wide-eyed, seemingly unable to believe that Charles Bennett would actually kill him. With endless regret, he fell into darkness.

　　Casually knocking aside the incoming corpse, Robert Strong flew into another rage. "You little bastard, how dare you!"

　　As for Robert Strong's fury, the bloodthirsty Charles Bennett paid it no mind. Since Black Mountain had started this, he, Charles Bennett, would finish it. For his people, Charles Bennett didn't mind going on a killing spree.

　　Thus, the two chased and fought, and in just a moment, five or six people had died at Charles Bennett's hands. At this moment, he seemed to have become a demon—wherever his gaze landed, the Black Mountain tribesmen in that direction would flee in terror.

　　"Locked up... in the black stone building to the east..." In the end, someone was scared out of their wits and, facing Charles Bennett's demonic face, revealed where the Gu Yuan tribe's girls were being held. But even so, he could not escape death.

　　"If you want to blame someone, blame your fate for being born in the wrong place." Seeing the man's surprised expression as he died, Charles Bennett said coldly.

　　Now knowing the hostages' location, Charles Bennett leapt over to where Thomas Hill and the other tribe warriors were, joining up with them.

　　"Haha, Charles Bennett, I want to see where you can run now." Seeing that the clan's warriors had surrounded Charles Bennett and his group of dozens, and feeling there was no more danger, Lily Strong popped out from somewhere, looking smug and triumphant.

　　Facing so many enemies, the Gu Yuan tribe's warriors gripped their weapons with trembling hands. Out of nervousness, bean-sized beads of sweat dripped from their foreheads. After all, they were deeply surrounded—perhaps the next moment they'd be hacked to pieces, their bodies torn apart.

　　"Mount up!"

　　With a loud shout, Charles Bennett snapped the panicked warriors back to their senses. They quickly found their mounts and gathered around Charles Bennett.

　　Mounted on his warhorse, Charles Bennett pulled Alice Moore up behind him, letting her sit at his back. He wrapped her arms around his waist and turned his head to whisper, "Hold on tight. Brother Bennett will lead you out of here."

　　His bloodstained face carried an unprecedented killing intent, looking fierce and terrifying. But behind him, Alice Moore, after hearing Charles Bennett's words, tightly hugged Charles Bennett, pressing her face against his back, and softly replied, as if with Charles Bennett there, she would fear neither blade nor fire.

　　"Lily Strong, you want my life? Who do you think you are!"

　　Charles Bennett threw his head back and laughed, his voice hoarse but soul-stirring. His not-so-broad back sat tall and straight on the horse, as solid as a mountain.

　　The clan's warriors behind him gripped their weapons and followed closely. At this moment, dozens of men were united in life and death, determined to save their people or die trying. True men of iron, doing what real men should do!

　　If a man dies, so be it—if not, he lives for ten thousand years!

　　Charles Bennett tore a strip of tattered leather from his body, tied his spear to his wrist, and pointed it forward with his right hand. He raised his head and roared, "Gu Yuan warriors, as fighters, what should we do?"

　　"Defend our tribe! As long as our blood flows, we will not cease fighting!"

　　"And those who block our rescue, what should we do?"

　　"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

　　Their shouts shook the heavens. Dozens of men gripped their weapons, murderous intent surging, unleashing a mighty momentum that swept over the enemies in all directions. The very air above the Black Mountain tribe seemed to freeze. The Gu Yuan tribe's warriors, who had been fearful, were now roused by Charles Bennett's guidance. They raised their spears, glared at the enemies ahead, and awaited their leader's command.

　　With every shout of "kill," their morale rose a notch. By the time the last "kill" was shouted, their fighting spirit had reached its peak.

　　Kill!

　　With a long howl from Charles Bennett, the bloodlust of dozens of men erupted, soaring dozens of yards high as if to tear the sky apart. The Gu Yuan tribe's warriors charged at their enemies. True warriors die on the battlefield—fighting for their people, they would have no regrets, even in death!

　　Puff! Puff! Puff!