The arrows kept hitting Raven.

One pierced his shoulder.

Another went through his side.

A third struck his thigh.

Blood ran down his body, dripping onto the dark ground.

He did not block them.

He only raised one arm to protect his face.

He needed to see.

His vision was already blurred. If he lost it now, everything would end.

His breathing grew heavy. Each breath felt like fire in his chest.

His legs shook, but he forced them to stay straight.

Raven reached into his subspace ring.

A green glow flashed.

Another cannonball appeared in his hand.

His lips pulled back into a cruel grin.

"Take this, you son of a bitch!" he shouted.

He hurled the cannonball with all the strength he had left.

It hit the edge of the wall.

BOOM!

The explosion tore a huge chunk of stone apart. Soldiers screamed as bodies and broken armor flew into the air.

Raven did not stop.

He pulled out another.

Then another.

And another.

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

Each throw shook the ground. Each blast sent green flames and poison clouds spreading across the wall.

Stone collapsed. Towers fell. Soldiers were thrown like dolls.

Raven's arms felt numb. His fingers were torn and bleeding. His vision swam, but he kept throwing.

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

At least ten cannonballs exploded one after another.

Five hundred meters of the wall was turned into hell.

More than thirty thousand Trampling soldiers were caught in the blasts. Some were torn apart. Some screamed and fell. Some never even had time to scream.

The wall that once stood proud was now broken, burning, and covered in green smoke.

Raven finally stopped.

His body swayed.

Blood poured from his wounds. His strength was almost gone.

But he was still standing.

He lifted his head and looked at the ruined wall.

His smile was weak now.

But it was satisfied.

The battlefield was silent, except for screams and the sound of stone falling.

Meanwhile, chaos spread across the wall.

Soldiers ran in all directions, screaming and shouting. There was no order left. No formation. Only panic.

The ordinary soldiers collapsed first.

They fell to the ground, clutching their throats.

Their faces turned green. Thick veins bulged out from their necks and arms like twisted ropes.

Some tried to crawl. Some tried to scream, but only foam came out of their mouths.

The knights who were above three star resisted longer.

They stood for a few seconds more, mana shaking around their bodies. But even they could not escape.

Their breathing turned rough. They began to cough violently. One by one, they knelt on the ground, choking, their faces filled with pain.

The poison gas was far too strong.

Some soldiers panicked completely.

"They're our own weapons!"

"We're dying!"

"Get away from the gas!"

In desperation, many soldiers jumped off the wall, hoping to escape the green fog.

But the wall was too high.

Their bodies smashed into the ground below.

Bones broke. Flesh burst.

They turned into nothing but broken meat.

Only those with fourth star cultivation survived the fall, and even they rolled on the ground in pain, coughing blood.

The wall had become a living nightmare.

As the one-eyed old man watched all of this, his mind trembled.

He could not understand it.

Just a few moments ago, they were celebrating victory.

They were laughing.

Mocking the enemy.

And now… his soldiers were dying.

All around him, nearly thirty thousand men ran blindly through the green gas.

They crashed into each other, screamed for help, and then collapsed one by one.

Some clawed at their own throats. Some fell to their knees, shaking.

Others simply dropped, their bodies twitching before going still.

The wall had turned into chaos.

The old man stood there, frozen.

His head felt heavy. His thoughts were a mess. No orders came to his lips. No plan formed in his mind.

He didn't know what to do.

Just then….."Commander… cough… cough… this is bad…"

A middle-aged man pushed through the chaos and reached the one-eyed old man.

He covered his mouth with his hand, trying not to breathe in the gas. His eyes were wide with fear.

"We don't have the antidote," he said in a shaking voice. "Most of our soldiers are being affected. At this rate—"

The one-eyed old man did not answer at once.

He was gripping the wall tightly. His breathing was uneven. His face was growing pale as the poison crept into his body.

They had never expected this.

This gas was supposed to kill the enemy, not them.

Because of that, they were even less prepared than the Empire soldiers.

The old man's single eye shook as he looked at the battlefield he had created.

Then he roared.

"Everyone at fourth star and above!" he shouted. "Jump off the wall!"

The knights froze for a split second.

"Carry as many soldiers as you can!" he continued. "Get them away from the gas! Now!"

"Yes!" voices answered at once.

Fourth star knights leaped from the wall one after another.

They grabbed fallen soldiers, threw them over their shoulders, and ran as fast as they could.

Behind them, the green gas kept spreading.

And in the distance, Raven still stood—

a blood-soaked figure smiling in the poison-filled wind.

As time passed, all the fourth star and above warriors jumped off the wall.

Including them, only around a thousand soldiers managed to retreat.

The rest were left behind.

What made it even worse was the wall itself.

Even though the wall was wide and long, there were no ladders anywhere nearby.

Not for at least one full kilometer.

It had been built that way on purpose.

The commander at that time had his own cruel plans.

He never wanted enemies to climb the wall easily after they had breached the gate.

His plan was designed so that the soldiers on the wall would have the opportunity to keep going despite the gate being breached.

But now, that design turned into a nightmare.

The soldiers trapped on the wall had nowhere to go.

They could not climb down.

They could not run.

They could only choke and die.

Time passed.

Slowly, the wall was covered with bodies.

Dead soldiers lay piled on top of each other.

Some were already lifeless. Some were still moving weakly, gasping for air, waiting for death.

The green gas lingered.

The smell of poison mixed with blood and death.

It was unbearable.

Yet the one-eyed old man did not retreat.

It was not because he was unaffected.

Far from it.

Even though he was a swordmaster, his realm had been forced. His foundation was unstable.

This toxic gas was strong enough to harm even a true swordmaster.

So of course, it was affecting him too.

His breathing was slow and heavy. His vision darkened at the edges. His body felt stiff.

But the poison worked slowly on him.

Slow enough for him to witness everything.

He stood there, watching the wall turn into a grave.

His face twisted.

Anger, shock, and regret mixed together.

Then, suddenly, his eye widened.

He understood.

That bastard.

That son of a bitch.

The reason Raven asked about the antidote was not because he wanted to live.

It was not fear.

It was confirmation.

He wanted to know if they could survive their own weapons.

He wanted to be sure that when he used them… no one here would escape.

The one-eyed old man clenched his fist so hard that blood leaked between his fingers.

"Damn it!!!!!"

His roar echoed over the dead wall.

But there was no one left to answer him.

Only corpses.

And the green poison drifting in the air.

The old man slowly turned his head toward Raven.

His single eye burned with pure hatred.

If it were not for this man… everything would have gone as planned.

They would have rested today.

They would have attacked tomorrow.

The Empire would have been crushed.

But now…

Everything was over.

"…Everything is over," the old man murmured, his voice shaking with rage.

Raven was still standing there.

His body was pierced by countless arrows.

Blood soaked his armor and dripped onto the ground.

His breathing was weak. His legs trembled.

And yet—

He was smiling.

That smile made the old man's hatred explode.

This man was the reason thirty thousand soldiers died without even lifting their weapons.

Thirty thousand lives, erased in moments.

The old man's body trembled.

"I will kill you," he muttered.

Then he roared.

"I WILL KILL YOU!!"

He jumped off the wall.

The ground cracked as he landed.

Dust and poison gas scattered around him as his aura flared wildly.

Even poisoned, the pressure of a swordmaster was terrifying.

Raven watched him fall.

He sneered.

Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth as he laughed softly.

"Come," Raven said, his voice rough but full of mockery.

"Let me see what you can do, old fart!!!"

The poison-filled battlefield went silent.

Two broken men faced each other—

one burning with hatred,

the other smiling with madness.

The final clash was about to begin.

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