Even if Baron Quentin could transform his very fat into raw combat power, it was inconceivable that he could withstand the myriad traps, mechanisms, and assaults orchestrated by Hutou.
The Swift Dragon, pulling the war chariot, was the first casualty. It stumbled over a cleverly concealed pit trap, then took a direct hit from a rolling boulder.
With a violent thud, the Swift Dragon collapsed, unable to rise. The momentum of the charging chariot caused it to overturn and crash.
Adair was thrown about, completely disoriented, while Baron Quentin himself rolled three or four times across the ground before finally coming to a stop.
Suddenly, Baron Quentin let out a mighty roar and scrambled to his feet, transforming his massive axe into an impenetrable circular shield. Simultaneously, his lips began to move in a ceaseless murmur.
Adair, not far from Baron Quentin, could distinctly recognize the words emanating from the Baron’s mouth as a high-tier spell.
This corpulent pig had certainly delivered a significant surprise to Adair tonight. Heaven truly must be blind — or perhaps, in this current context, that honor belonged to Lifa.
‘There’s no difference between an idiot and a blind person!’
A surge of envy, jealousy, and resentment coursed through Adair. It was well-known that very few individuals possessed the ability to accumulate mana within their bodies. How could such a precious talent be squandered on this pig? It was a classic case of a man being inferior to a pig!
As Baron Quentin chanted, the rocks circling around him, influenced by the magic, began to levitate into the air. They were then launched like cannonballs, hurtling towards the bandits entrenched on the high ground.
The bandits were caught entirely off guard. The outermost group was instantly bewildered, their heads bursting open or being flattened into grotesque patties of flesh.
Hutou’s expression turned grim. He felt he had underestimated the Baron’s mansion, never imagining it harbored such a formidable expert—one who not only dared to charge headlong into battle but also wielded magic.
He noticed his frontline subordinates showing signs of fear, eager to retreat. Without hesitation, he used his wolf-tooth club to smash the first fleeing bandit into a bloody pulp.
Covered in blood, Hutou’s face contorted into a ferocious snarl. In the dim light of night, he resembled a true demon as he roared, “Anyone who dares to retreat again will meet the same fate! High-tier magic isn’t easily cast; he won’t be able to use it again for some time. Hold your ground! If we survive this, each of you will receive a hundred gold!”
Simultaneously, Hutou observed that after casting the spell, the corpulent general remained motionless, leaning on his great axe. He immediately understood that unleashing such a powerful magic came with a steep price.
He bellowed, “The fat man is weakening! Quick, concentrate your attacks and kill him!”
The bandits, both fearing the murderous Hutou and swayed by the allure of a hundred gold, returned to their positions and organized their assault.
Although Hutou appeared fierce in that moment, his heart was riddled with self-reproach. Blinded by the treasury’s wealth, he had foolishly trusted Adair. Now, he found himself in an impossible situation, unable to back down.
He was also a stubborn and defiant individual. Despite being trapped, he had no intention of surrendering, resolving to fight to the bitter end.
Moreover, he had noticed that the attacking troops were utterly disorganized. Their movements lacked any discernible strategy, their attacks were chaotic, and there was no effective command. They were even more scattered than his own band of mountain bandits, making the outcome of a true battle uncertain.
On Baron Quentin’s side, he had only used this particular spell a few times after learning it. Coupled with his usual lack of physical training, his internal mana reserves were quite low. That single cast completely drained his body of mana.
Furthermore, the more potent a spell, the higher the mental fortitude required of the caster. As for Baron Quentin, his mind was now somewhat clouded.
Fortunately, this brief respite allowed the rear forces to catch up, and his two bodyguards moved to shield Baron Quentin from harm.
Adair could no longer afford to remain sprawled on the ground. There was only one path to assault the mine, and lying there meant being trampled into a meat patty by the hundreds of people behind him.
To evade Baron Quentin’s watchful eye, Adair blended into the main force, following them as they surged up the mountain.
There was no other choice; moving against the tide of people at this moment would be foolish and far too conspicuous.
However, despite joining the charge, Adair’s pace was noticeably slower than everyone else’s. He quickly fell to the very rear of the formation, content to let the cannon fodder lead the way.
It had to be said, Hutou possessed some skill. Despite the numerical disadvantage, he managed to repel Baron Quentin’s troops two or three times by skillfully leveraging the terrain and his command.
Upon witnessing this from the rear, Baron Quentin’s anger flared once more. He had recovered somewhat during this time; though he couldn’t use magic, it didn’t prevent him from fighting with his internal energy.
Baron Quentin charged directly towards the front lines, shouldering his great axe. His two bodyguards, on the verge of tears, reluctantly followed him into the fray.
With these three high-tier combatants, Baron Quentin’s troops were no longer aimlessly charging like headless chickens. They found their core strength, and in a single surge, tore through Hutou’s first defensive line.
Hutou, however, was not enraged by the breach of his defense. He stared blankly at the front line. Now that he was close enough, he could clearly see that the corpulent man wielding the great axe, courageous yet reckless, and capable of high-tier magic, was indeed Baron Quentin.
He felt as if his mind had been struck by lightning. For a moment, he even wondered if everything happening was a hallucination, if he was still dreaming.
Hutou scrutinized the fat man again. It was undeniably Baron Quentin’s face. Could the fat man have a powerful twin brother?
He simply could not reconcile the charging, battle-hardened Baron Quentin before him with the greedy, bullying Baron Quentin he once knew. This utterly shattered his worldview.
Hutou pondered, ‘Could this fellow have been putting on an act for me all this time, possessing such profound cunning? Was he just waiting for today to play the pig to eat the tiger?’
“Boss, boss! Are you alright? The enemy has broken through our first defensive line!”
His subordinates, who had been awaiting their leader’s instructions, discovered him lost in thought. A trusted aide immediately called out to Hutou, but Hutou was currently questioning his entire existence, unable to process any external information.
The aide, mustering his courage, shook Hutou, finally rousing him from his inner world.
Hutou’s emotions were a tangled mess, yet he had not lost his sanity. He calmly commanded, “Tell the brothers to retreat to the second defensive line. Ambush them there using traps and the terrain. Prepare for close-quarters combat!”
“Yes!”
Hutou also pulled his large wolf-tooth club from where it was stuck in the ground. He intended to join the battle personally; otherwise, the morale of the front lines might not hold. Moreover, he needed to confirm once and for all if that fat man was truly Baron Quentin.
****
“Tsk, tsk, tsk, what a brutal battle this is.”
Adair, secretly hidden in a trench, peered over the edge at the gruesome, bloody battle raging ahead, unable to suppress a sigh of emotion.
He was now a ‘dead man’. After Baron Quentin and his men broke through the defense, Adair followed the troops to the first defensive line’s location. He then casually picked up an arrow from the ground, symbolically stabbed himself with it, feigned being struck, and lay ‘dead’ in the trench.
Once everyone had advanced, Adair opened his eyes and crawled to the edge of the trench to observe the battle.
Seeing Baron Quentin still fighting at the very front, Adair couldn’t help but exclaim, “My goodness, this pig has evolved from Zhu Bajie to Marshal Tian Peng!”
However, if things continued like this, the battle would become completely one-sided. What Adair truly desired was for both sides to suffer heavy losses. If the now-crazed but rapidly escalating Baron Quentin were allowed to return, who knew what trouble he might stir up?
Adair quietly changed his ‘dead’ position, inching forward to get a clearer grasp of the battle.
Suddenly, Baron Quentin’s troops were attacked from both front and back. A group of mountain bandits burst from an ambush point, and combined with the ground traps, they inflicted significant damage on Baron Quentin’s forces.
Baron Quentin’s previously cohesive troops began to be fragmented and picked off one by one.
The Baron Quentin trio, who had charged furthest ahead, were also intercepted by Hutou and his trusted aides.
“Traitor! Die!”
Upon seeing Hutou, Baron Quentin’s eyes glowed with a blood-red intensity. He hoisted his axe and lunged at Hutou.
The blow was incredibly powerful; an ordinary person would likely have been cleaved in two. However, Hutou, being of ghost-kin descent, possessed innate divine strength. He countered directly with his wolf-tooth club, and both men stumbled back two or three steps before regaining their footing.
Hutou gasped for breath. At such close proximity, he could finally see that the man before him was indeed the Baron Quentin he had once so scorned.
Hutou seethed inwardly, “I never imagined you could hide your true depths so well. To scheme against me, you sent an infiltrator to lure me here, even revealing your treasury and wealth without hesitation. I underestimated you!”
“Kill you, kill you, kill you!”
With his enemy before him, Baron Quentin had lost all reason, knowing only to swing his axe at Hutou, deaf to any words.
For a time, Hutou was actually suppressed by this storm of attacks. He realized that the Baron Quentin before him seemed somewhat off, almost as if he had lost his mind.
Yet, Hutou held his ground. Relying on his battle experience and instincts, he saw through Baron Quentin’s reckless fighting style. From being initially suppressed, he could now counterattack.
Baron Quentin’s layers of fat were pierced by the wolf-tooth club, oozing thick grease, but he seemed utterly oblivious, continuing his suicidal assault, determined to trade blow for blow with Hutou, even if it meant suffering a thousand injuries to inflict eight hundred on his foe.
“Reckless fool!”
Hutou, too, was driven to savagery. For a time, neither gave an inch, fighting a brutal, bloody battle that left them both severely wounded.
Baron Quentin’s bodyguards and Hutou’s trusted aides, fiercely protective of their masters, also fought with fiery intensity. However, Baron Quentin’s bodyguards were seasoned mercenaries, far superior in combat to Hutou’s trained aides. Even with their greater numbers, Hutou’s men began to fall into a disadvantage.
Seeing this, Adair’s eyes flashed with a chilling glint, a murderous intent stirring within him.
If those two bodyguards were allowed to break free, Baron Quentin’s side would become too comfortable. How could so many people bully so few? Adair declared that he simply couldn’t stand by and watch.
Adair looked left and right, spotting a crossbow abandoned on the battlefield, and his eyes lit up.
He crawled over, secured the crossbow, then rolled into a trench. He smeared the arrows with the poison he had ‘borrowed’ from Ye Xi, then began to aim at one of the bodyguards.
Adair murmured, “My apologies, but you have the misfortune of being targeted by a scoundrel like me.”
Then, a sharp arrow flew towards the bodyguard.