Chaos spread through the wildling camp.
Screams of terror, roars of anger, and the chaotic clashing of weapons...
Wildlings ran around like headless flies amidst the smoke and fire.
Some attempted to organize a counterattack, but they were quickly felled by poisoned arrows shot from the darkness.
More were driven by fear to instinctively surge toward the valley's only exit.
Then, they crashed headlong into the traps Lynn had carefully prepared for them.
Mournful screams echoed from the direction of the valley mouth.
Adding a note of despair to this chaotic scene.
Torren and Harvey's teams strictly executed Lynn's orders.
They swept back and forth along the edge of the camp.
Each charge claimed a few wildling lives and ignited a few tents.
Then they quickly retreated into the darkness, giving the enemy no chance to rally for a counterattack.
Their goal was not to inflict casualties, but to create panic.
They succeeded.
The entire wildling clan was in disarray.
Lynn lurked in the shadows outside the great bear-skin tent, watching it all coldly.
His heartbeat was steady, his breathing long and slow.
This scene of hell on earth stirred no ripples in his heart.
Now, it was the enemy commander's turn.
The flap of the great bear-skin tent was flung open violently.
A wildling, built like an iron tower, charged out.
He was bare-chested, his bronze skin covered in hideous blood-red totems.
His muscles knotted, full of explosive power.
In his hand, he carried a massive bone battle-axe.
Dark bloodstains still remained on the axe blade.
"Roar—!"
He let out a roar like a giant bear, a sound that drowned out all the clamor in the camp.
Some wildlings still in confusion seemed to find their backbone upon hearing this roar and instinctively gathered toward him.
He was the leader of this clan, Ragnar "Bloodaxe."
Ragnar's crimson eyes scanned the chaotic camp and quickly assessed the situation.
"It's the crows from the south!"
He bellowed in the wildling tongue.
"There aren't many of them! Don't be afraid!"
"Warriors! Pick up your weapons! Follow me and kill these damn crows!"
His roar did have some effect.
Some wildling warriors began to gather around him, attempting to organize effective resistance.
But it was too late.
Just as Ragnar focused all his attention on the chaos in the camp.
A black shadow sprang silently from the darkness behind him.
It was Lynn!
Hiding here was all for this moment!
The instant Ragnar turned, Lynn's speed exploded to the limit.
The Valyrian steel dagger in his hand carved a cold arc in the firelight, aiming straight for Ragnar's back, right where the heart lay.
This strike was lightning fast, the angle tricky.
However, Ragnar's reaction exceeded Lynn's expectations.
As if he had eyes in the back of his head, his body violently twisted to the side.
Sshh-lak!
The sharp edge of the dagger scraped across Ragnar's ribs.
The blow carved a wound deep enough to expose bone, and blood sprayed out instantly.
But it didn't hit a vital organ.
"Argh!"
Severe pain made Ragnar roar in anger.
He spun around violently.
The massive bone axe swept horizontally with a whistle that tore the air.
Lynn's pupils contracted; he pushed off the ground with his toes, retreating rapidly.
The axe blade swept past, almost grazing the tip of his nose.
The fierce wind it generated stung his cheeks.
Such fast reaction!
Such strong power!
A trace of surprise flashed in Lynn's mind.
This wildling leader was much tougher than he imagined.
Having missed his strike, Lynn sheathed the dragonbone dagger, then drew his own sword, gripping it with both hands in a combat stance.
Ragnar steadied himself.
A pair of crimson eyes locked dead onto Lynn.
"A little rat."
He grinned, revealing white teeth, his face full of cruel amusement.
"You dare sneak up on me."
He stuck out his tongue and licked the corner of his mouth.
"I'm going to tear you to pieces!"
Ragnar roared and charged again.
The bone axe in his hand swung in wide, powerful arcs.
Every blow was heavy and forceful, whipping up gusts of foul wind.
Lynn chose not to fight him head-on.
Although the strength boost from the Frostheart was significant, there was still a large gap compared to this monster in front of him.
He couldn't block it directly!
He utilized his Light Sword techniques to the extreme.
His figure, amidst Ragnar's storm-like attacks, was like a fallen leaf in the wind, drifting erratically.
Every time, by a hair's breadth.
Dangerously dodging the deadly axe blade.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Lynn's longsword occasionally clashed with the bone axe, producing a series of crisp ringing sounds.
He didn't use the flat of the blade to block, but the sharpest part of the edge.
To slice, to guide, to divert the opponent's force.
Every collision left a shallow notch on the bone axe.
Ragnar grew more alarmed the longer he fought.
This crow in front of him looked so frail that a gust of wind could blow him over.
But he was slippery as a loach!
Every one of his attacks seemed to hit empty air.
Strength with nowhere to go.
And the opponent's sword was like a viper's fang, always stabbing from the trickiest angles when least expected.
Although none caused fatal injuries, the stings one after another were constantly draining his stamina and patience.
It was utterly frustrating!
"Damn crow! Stop dodging if you have the guts!"
Ragnar roared in exasperation.
Lynn's answer was another tricky thrust.
The longsword moved like a spirit snake.
Bypassing the axe handle, stabbing straight at Ragnar's wrist holding the axe.
Ragnar was forced to pull back his axe to block.
Clang!
Another loud bang.
Sparks flew.
Ragnar felt a violent shock in the web of his thumb, his arm going numb.
He realized with horror that the opponent seemed to have a trend of overpowering him!
How was this possible?
In the moment Ragnar's mind wavered.
A cold light flashed in Lynn's eyes.
Opportunity!
He stopped dodging.
His body lunged forward abruptly, closing into Ragnar's guard.
The longsword in his hand retracted, then thrust out!
This strike abandoned all technique and variation.
Leaving only the purest speed and power!
Squelch!
The cold blade pierced through Ragnar's solid chest without hindrance.
The tip protruded from his back, carrying warm blood.