Chapter 416 - 400: A Battle Without Suspense

Chapter 416: Chapter 400: A Battle Without Suspense

"Ugh! Damn it!"

Duraga only snapped back to his senses when the cold metal fragments splattered on the ground.

He cursed gruffly, touching the back of his neck, his heart still pounding with lingering fear.

The chill of the approaching blade still lingered there.

"Thanks, Rudolph."

After a grateful glance at Roland, the Gray Dwarf leader didn’t lose his composure over the recent danger.

He raised a hand to signal his kin, who had gathered around, to lower their weapons, then held both hands up and spoke in a clear voice.

"Listen, followers of Rose! We did not come here to start a fight, but to—"

Before he could finish, the attacks resumed.

Several cold glints of light flashed, like the lethal strikes of vipers.

The speed at which these blades cut through the air was astonishing.

The figures, who had been dozens of paces away just a moment ago, were now right before them in the blink of an eye.

’So fast...’

Roland’s eyes narrowed on the rapidly approaching figures, sighing inwardly.

These Zor Elves were undoubtedly Extraordinary Professionals.

Although they hadn’t shown their full strength, judging by the way they emerged from the Shadows and their vicious assassination techniques, even if they weren’t pure Assassins, they certainly walked a similar Extraordinary path.

Compared to any Assassin Roland had encountered in the past, these Zor Elves were faster, their strikes more ruthless and precise, and their skill in Concealing Aura was masterful.

Before, even if he could have perceived their movements with the Touch of Profound Darkness, there was no way he could have dealt with such terrifying speed.

But now...

Facing several dark glints of blades tearing through the air, Roland remained perfectly still, only slightly turning his body to let the first Dagger graze past his chest.

The instant the Zor Elf tried to change their move, Roland’s right hand shot out like lightning, his fingers striking their blade-wielding wrist with precision.

"CLANG!"

With a faint ring, the poisoned Short Knife flew from their grasp.

Roland flicked his wrist, smoothly catching the hilt of the falling blade, and in a reverse grip, swung the back of the blade at another Assassin attacking from his right.

The back of the blade met the second Dagger with a crisp clang.

The immense Power sent the Assassin stumbling backward, their weapon flying from their hand.

At that moment, a third Assassin emerged silently from the Shadow behind him, two blades aimed for his heart and the back of his knees.

Without looking back, Roland spread the fingers of his left hand. A condensed Blood-colored Fighting Spirit swirled in his palm, forming a pliant barrier.

The twin blades stabbed into the Fighting Spirit as if sinking into a thick bog, unable to advance another inch.

He swung the Short Knife in his right hand backward, the hilt precisely striking the third Assassin’s shoulder.

The Assassin grunted, their entire arm going numb and weak, and their Dagger clattered to the floor.

The entire exchange took no more than three heartbeats.

As for the other attackers who followed, Roland’s movements remained unhurried.

He would sidestep, use skillful force to deflect incoming weapons, or occasionally tap an opponent’s joints with the back of the blade.

Every move was perfectly executed, neutralizing the threat without taking a life.

When the last Zor Elf was struck in the chest with the flat of the captured Short Knife and stumbled back several steps with a grunt, the Blood-colored Fighting Spirit circulating around Roland finally receded.

"By the gods..."

Duraga rubbed his eyes hard, his face a mask of bewilderment.

In his eyes, he had only seen several black figures leap from the Shadows all around the cabin, like coiled vipers launching a fatal strike.

He had instinctively started to raise his War Axe, his muscles barely tensing...

The next instant, all that remained in his vision was a blurry, flowing, dark-red Residual Shadow.

It was faster than his eyes could track.

He heard the crisp clang of metal on metal and saw the Assassins stagger back one after another, their weapons lost, but he couldn’t comprehend how any of it was happening.

It was like watching a play fast-forwarded dozens of times; he saw the beginning and the end but missed the entire crucial process in between.

When the dust settled, Roland was standing with his hands behind his back again, as if he had never moved.

All the attackers had lost their ability to fight, and they stood frozen in place, clutching their wrists or holding their shoulders.

Seeing this, Duraga blinked in disbelief, his gaze shifting back and forth between Roland and the defeated Zor Elves, a flash of confusion in his eyes.

Compared to the Rudolph he remembered, his old friend now going by "Roland" was clearly still lacking in absolute Power.

But the combat technique he had just witnessed, exquisite down to the finest detail, and the composure with which he defused a crisis in close quarters and dismantled a siege with minimal effort—that was something he had never seen from the Rudolph in his memories.

The Rudolph he remembered fought...

Duraga’s thoughts drifted.

Those memories were mostly simple and direct.

Either a plain, unadorned swing of a sword or an overwhelming display of Power that ended the fight in an instant. There were never any exceptions.

In Rudolph’s own words, it was called...

"One force... breaks ten skills?"

Duraga muttered subconsciously, then shook his head sharply, pulling his wandering thoughts back to the present.

Looking at his equally dumbfounded kinsmen, he cleared his throat loudly and faced the still-shaken Zor Elves, raising his voice.

"Listen! We have come here with no ill intent."

The Gray Dwarf leader scanned the crimson eyes that were still filled with wariness.

"We only want to ask one question. Those Surface Elves—where exactly are they living now?"

Duraga’s voice echoed in the silent cabin.

After a moment, the slender figure who had attacked first slowly straightened up.

She made a hand gesture, and although the other Zor Elves remained vigilant, they obediently took half a step back and gathered behind her.

"Why should we trust a group of exiled Dwarves?"

Her voice was cold and hoarse, her crimson eyes fixed on Duraga.

"It’s simple..."

A voice broke the stalemate.

Roland, having just returned from the exquisite experience of perfect control over his body, stepped forward with a calm smile.

He casually twirled the Dagger on his fingertip, then with a flick of his wrist, sent it spinning toward the female Zor Elf.

It wasn’t fast, its trajectory clear, thrown just so she could catch it easily.

"You’ve already witnessed my strength firsthand."

Roland calmly watched her catch the Dagger.

"If I had any ill intent, you would all be corpses by now."

"The fact that you’re still standing here breathing is the best proof of our sincerity."

These words, backed by the confidence of absolute power, instantly silenced the cabin, which had been filled with whispers and unrest from the brief conflict.

Humiliation and anger appeared on the faces of the Zor Elves. A few of the younger Warriors even subconsciously tightened their grip on their weapons.

"Enough."

The slender figure in the lead raised a hand to stop the agitation of her companions behind her.

She took a deep breath, as if forcefully suppressing her Zor Elf pride. When she spoke again, her voice was still cold, but it now held a hint of cautious deliberation.

"You are right, powerful human."

She took a step forward and bowed slightly, a graceful posture with a peculiar rhythm.

"Regarding the movements of those... Surface Elves, what I know is indeed limited. If you insist on finding out, perhaps only Elder Duadeng can give you a definitive answer."

"If you don’t mind stepping into our camp, I can lead the way."

"Duadeng?"

The name made Duraga cry out in surprise. His eyes, wide as copper bells, shot open as he instinctively turned to look at Roland beside him.