TALES OF A WITCHER - Season 8 Episode 48

As dusk deepened and the darkness seeped through clouds, both parties found it difficult to continue with the battle.

Evidently, once the landing spots of bullets and their targets were indiscernible, the shooting accuracy of the machine gun squad would drop drastically. Although the number of machine guns invested in this operation was not comparable to that in Coldwind Ridge, they could still stop the cavalrymen from charging quite well. When their enemies tossed the torches, there would always be a few dozen people making their way through the barrage fire, howling while dashing toward the artillery and thereby becoming Danny’s shooting targets.

On the other hand, the enemies could not tell where their real threats lay. They neither saw their companions shatter under fire nor did they know what weapon exactly stood between the two sand hills on either side.

Without a torch, the cavalrymen behind did not quite know what had truly happened to their companions at the front. They could only hear the roar of cannons not far away and see the flickering lights on the sides. To them, the thundering cannons were apparently more threatening than unmanned sand hills on the sides.

Because of this, the watchdog was not crushed at once but they continuously charged forward like endless foaming tides.

For those seasoned clan warriors, they believed constant slashing and charging was the best way to dismantle enemies’ wills and lower their morale. Speed represented power. No slave or mercenary could ever defy their ceaseless attack. They believed once the defensive line, no matter how impregnable it was, was broken through by cavalry, their enemies would soon fall into chaos.

This created a perfect opportunity for Danny to prey.

It was not long before he shot the 20th enemy down.

Meanwhile, Danny also noticed a strange phenomenon: many times he took aim at an enemy at the very front, only to find that his prey had been taken by someone else.

As if someone were competing with him.

It was more than that, however.

What thrilled Danny was that this sniper hiding in the darkness appeared to be an exquisite hunter.

Because all his enemies fell to the same side.

If his competitor was facing enemies like him, the target would fall backward when being shot in the torso. If he hit the mount, then the enemy would be thrown off the horse and fell forward. Danny did not really know the mechanism behind this, but his prediction was mostly accurate.

The fact that the target fell to one side meant that the shooter was close to one of the sand hills and always shot his enemy in the torso rather than his mount.

What does that imply?

It indicated that the hunter could not only capture the darting horserider in the dismal light but could also predict where his target was heading before each firing. As the crisp winds in the desert were always variable and unforeseeable, the fact that the hunter could still maintain such an astonishing accuracy really showed that his shooting was a masterstroke.

Is there really such an excellent sniper in the army?

Is he a member of the precision shooting squad, or a person like him, a soldier from the gun battalion who was picked out by His Majesty and given a new bolt gun?

Danny could barely suppress his excitement. He sped up what he was doing.

He did not want to lose to his rival.

Especially when Malt was looking up to him.

“Only one left on your right hand, 250 meters away from the defensive line.”

“He’s mine now.”

…

The roar of thunders finally died down in the second half of the night, but Thuram did not hear the cheers of returning warriors which he had been anticipating.

Although the watchdog was caught unprepared, based on the number of torches, there were nearly 2,000 summoned warriors who participated in the battle. No matter they had lost or won, he should have heard something back from them by now. Nevertheless, after thundering yells and shouts gradually faded away, the night fell deadly silent, as though the 2,000 people had all been engulfed by a giant monster, both flesh and bones.

Thuram sent all the clansmen who came to rescue to put out the blazes as Iron Axe had instructed. The fires in the oasis were thus gradually quenched.

He was not sure whether he should rejoice or lament.

Watchdogs had never ceased their oppression of his clansmen. Thuram had always dreamed that they would, one day, meet some misfortunes, for example, enraging the big clan in the city or being miserably defeated by some challenger who rose abruptly. He would take delight in any woes that rested upon them.

But he had not expected that this new challenger was Iron Axe.

It seemed that Iron Axe also planned to involve him in this tumult of battle that aimed to select the strongest clan.

Perchance he should persuade Iron Axe to first hold the bloodstained place before considering to take the next step. It was true that the golden-eyed Divine Lady coming with him was powerful, but… the one from Raging Flare clan was not so easy to deal with as well. As Raging Flare clan was the biggest clan among all, they could decide how the duel should take place. If they chose to have a one-on-one hand-to-hand combat, Thuram did not think the Iron Axes’ Divine Lady would win.

A holy duel was said to be the most open and fairest competition, it was actually, however, more a competition between the two clans. Each of the clan could not only set up traps for the other prior to the duel, but they could also frame their rivals in the ring as well. Skillful warriors were definitely not a guarantee of an eventual victory. For that, the exile of Osha clan had provided the best example.

What bewildered him the most, nonetheless, was why the King of Graycastle had a sudden interest in the desert.

To northerners, the desert always represented barbarism and primitiveness. Northerners forbade Sand Nation to set foot in their kingdoms. They did not want to meddle in disputes among clans either. Only tradesmen traveled back and forth between the desert and kingdoms, and they usually traded slaves only.

Plus, what did Iron Axe mean by “order and oasis”? It was rumored that only Three Gods Emissary could cultivate an oasis in the desert and stop storms. Another saying was that the Southernmost Region had originally been a verdant land covered with green grass and trees, interspersed with singing brooks. It was the death of the emissary that made the land patched and wasted like the one today. When Three Gods dispatched their new emissary, the Southernmost Region would once again become prosperous. However, it was simply a legend shrouded in mystery. Nobody had ever made this happen; otherwise, Sand Nation would not fight for water and food all the year round.

While he was waiting in anxiety, dawn finally broke in the east with a dagger of daylight streaking the sky.

Then Thuram heard a distant, strange roar of horns. The sound was not as dull and low as the blare of an ox horn, but it was sharper and crisper like a repetitive ticking…

Shortly afterward, a peculiar army emerged at the border of the oasis.

The soldiers lined up horizontally and approached the bloodstained place with an irresistible force. They then started a bitter battle with the watchdog. It might not be that fierce though, for a group of clan warriors, who dashed forward with swords, all fell to the ground after a series of “crack, crack” of lightning. The rest of the warriors dispersed immediately, paying their moaning companions no mind. After the soldiers entered the oasis, they quickly occupied the several watchtowers and encircled the tavern.

When that blue-gray haired, dark-skinned lady came into the room, Thuram knew he had no other choices. Although he had not seen her for seven or eight years, he could still perceive some resemblances between her and her mother.

Thuram went to his knee in front of Drow Silvermoon, his forehead touching the cold floor. He said in a raucous voice, “I swear to Three Gods that my clansmen and I will be at your service. From now on, you’ll be the chief of the new Osha clan.”