Chapter 106: The Second Assault of the Black-Robed Men

Rice gripped the assailant's arms with fierce determination, quickly discerning the presence of armor beneath the man's dark robes. Yet he had already formulated a method to eliminate these mysterious attackers.

Without warning, flames erupted along Rice's forearms, setting the black-robed figure ablaze. In mere moments, the dark garment disintegrated into drifting ashes, revealing a full-body suit of seamless alloy armor beneath. Though the strange alloy resisted melting, the temperature within the suit soared rapidly. Within seconds, the black-robed man began to thrash and howl in agony. Rice held firm, unrelenting. Moments later, the man's struggles ceased, and the stench of scorched flesh seeped from the armor's seams—there was no doubt: the body inside had been cremated alive.

Letting go, Rice straightened, exhaled heavily, and cursed under his breath. "Damn it… You bastards are tougher than you look."

He turned, casting his gaze across the battlefield. Xiao Feng was still locked in a fierce clash with a dozen of the dark-robed foes. Yet it was evident that he was gradually adapting to their coordinated strikes, finding moments to counterattack.

Rice bellowed across the distance, "Xiao Feng! Shock their armor—aim for the body!"

Hearing this, Xiao Feng flashed a grin. Deflecting a blow with his alloy blade, he ducked low and darted behind his opponent. His left hand made contact with the armored figure—then came the surge. A burst of raw electricity coursed through the conductive alloy.

With a crackling hiss, the current pierced the armor, and the robed man convulsed violently before collapsing in a heap.

"Thanks for the tip, boss," Xiao Feng called out, his voice tinged with triumph.

Several of the attackers turned to glare at Rice. Their eyes fell upon the charred corpse at his feet, and three of them abruptly charged.

Rice tensed. He knew that three-on-one would be a far greater challenge. But instead of retreating, he surged forward, flames roaring around his body like a living torch. He barreled into the foremost attacker, seized his arm, and with a swift, contorted motion, hurled him backward into one of his comrades. The two collided with a thunderous crash and tumbled to the ground.

The third adversary came down with a two-handed slash. Rice twisted away, the blade skimming inches from his nose. His heart leapt into his throat. "That was close," he muttered, then lunged, igniting the attacker's robe in a blaze of fire.

With the pressure eased, Xiao Feng moved with renewed grace and lethality. Now facing fewer than ten enemies, and armed with knowledge of their weakness, he struck swiftly and without mercy.

A flicker of lightning, and another enemy fell. Another bolt, and a second was left twitching on the ground, his resistance extinguished.

Within moments, only three to five remained. And now, fear had crept into their eyes. Their formation broke, blades wavered. Clearly, they had not anticipated Xiao Feng's deadly combination of speed and electric power—an evolving nightmare they could not contain.

Meanwhile, Rice fought his trio with growing fatigue. Though he managed to throw them forcefully to the ground, he lacked the time, speed, and deadly ability to deliver decisive blows like Xiao Feng. His every effort was a calculated delay.

Bodies began to litter the ground around Xiao Feng. Seven, perhaps eight of the black-robed warriors now lay motionless. The remaining attackers had grown desperate, their attacks wild and uncoordinated—no longer a threat.

Xiao Feng kicked one enemy aside and, without pause, swung his alloy blade at another to his left. But in doing so, he left his back exposed to a third attacker. The long blade descended toward him in a deadly arc.

He had a choice—halt his attack or take the strike.

He chose neither. He accepted the blow.

The black alloy blade cleaved into the enemy's shoulder. Though the armor blunted the force, electricity surged from Xiao Feng's hand, coursing through the man's body.

At that exact moment, the enemy's blade carved into Xiao Feng's back—from shoulder to hip, a jagged wound stretching over thirty centimeters, deep enough to expose bone. He grunted in pain but refused to fall.

With a roar, he spun around and drove his foot into the chest of the man who had wounded him, launching him backward. Xiao Feng followed with a leap, both hands gripping his blade, and brought it down with wrathful precision upon the man's shoulder.

The strike shattered the armor, severing the arm clean from the body.

The man screamed, writhing in the dirt, clutching his ruined limb.

Of the original force, only three remained. Two harried Rice, while the third—knocked down by Xiao Feng—was just now staggering to his feet.

Xiao Feng turned, his expression ice-cold. He charged. In three bounding steps, he launched himself into the air, feet slamming into the man's chest. The impact hurled him a full ten meters, where he crashed to the ground and slid for several more.

Then came a scream—sharp, anguished. "Aargh!"

Xiao Feng's head snapped around. Captain Rice clutched his chest, blood pouring from a deep gash over a foot long.

Without hesitation, Xiao Feng rushed to his aid. His blade cleaved through one attacker, sending the black-robed figure tumbling. The last was seized by Rice, his grip clamping down on the man's wrist with unyielding strength.