Chapter 122: Lethal Intent in the Dense Forest (II)

Joann’s heart gave a violent tremor, and he hurriedly looked back toward the area where the dark shadow had been lurking. Almost at the same moment, a cold glint shot out from under the projection of the tent. At first, Joann thought the flash was aimed at him and instinctively raised his shield to block. However, he quickly realized that the target of the sneak attack was not himself, but Viss, who was not far away. Regrettably, his realization came too late. A cry of surprise reached his ears, and Viss collapsed to the ground with a short sword buried in his back, blood gushing out along the gleaming blade.

"Heh heh... and I thought the fugitive the Lizardfolk Lord personally ordered hunted would be something special. Turns out he's nothing, taken down with a single casual strike."

A sneering voice emerged from the shadows, its hoarse, gravelly tone jarring and harsh, like sandpaper grinding against metal. A tall, thick-set figure stepped out. His face bore a resemblance to a goblin, with a flat, broad visage punctuated by a pair of tiny eyes, the pupils a haunting, milky white. Yet, his frame was far more massive than that of an ordinary goblin; he stood a foot taller than Joann, his pitch-black, tight-fitting leather armor nearly bursting from his developed muscles, and his open chest revealed a thick mat of hair.

Joann edged closer to the fallen Viss, his gaze locked on the uninvited guest. The stranger's ferocious appearance and bloodthirsty eyes sent a shiver through the young mage. Struggling to suppress his inner fear, Joann observed him closely and identified the dark figure as a "bugbear," the strongest and most savage subspecies of goblinoid. Contrary to their seemingly bulky and clumsy appearance, bugbears are highly adept at stealth and tracking, often serving as scouts in goblin tribes.

Joann also noted that the bugbear wore fine, tight-fitting soft leather armor that would be impossible for him to craft himself. A vacant scabbard hung at an angle from his belt, and his right hand clutched a spiked mace bristling with barbs. It was clear that this bugbear was skilled in wielding both a mace and a short sword; combined with that rogue-specific armor, Joann immediately deduced that the opponent possessed levels in the "rogue" class—a veteran assassin, no doubt.

"Little mage, care to make a bet?" the bugbear rogue sneered, eyeing Joann with feigned arrogance as he paced slowly forward. "Let's see whose move is faster—you casting a spell, or my mace smashing your skull?"

Before the words had even finished leaving his lips, the bugbear rogue suddenly pushed off the ground, charging at Joann like a cannonball fired from a gun.

Joann knew even without thinking that he could never complete his spellcasting before the bugbear reached him. He decisively side-stepped, his right hand whipping a dagger from his waist.

The bugbear let out a wild laugh and spun into a side kick. Joann felt his right hand take a blow like a club, the pain forcing him to involuntarily release his grip, and his lightning blade clattered to the ground. As Joann instinctively reached to retrieve his weapon, a heavy leather boot stepped firmly onto the blade.

Joann looked up in a hurry, meeting the bugbear’s grinning face. The massive frame cast a shadow that nearly buried him, and he couldn't help but shudder.

The bugbear rogue was satisfied with the terror in the young mage's eyes. He parted his lips to reveal a mouthful of yellow teeth, raising his mace like an executioner, savoring the look of his prey on the brink of death. When he saw the young boy raise his left arm, seemingly attempting to block the impending hammer with the small shield strapped to his elbow, he was so amused by this futile gesture that he burst into hysterical laughter.

Yet, a mere second later, the bugbear rogue’s laughter died in his throat.

The seemingly unremarkable small shield was painted with a comical face, its eyes wide with feigned fury. A beam of intense, dazzling light erupted from the shield, stinging the bugbear’s defenseless eyes. His milky-white eyeballs instantly bloodshot and swelled, and tears streamed down his face.

Blinded by the searing light, the bugbear rogue stumbled backward, crying out in alarm. He covered his face with his left hand while frantically swinging his mace with his right, attempting to ward off the invisible enemy.

Joann did not rush to approach the bugbear. He leaned down to retrieve his lightning blade, pointed the dagger at the rogue from a distance, and coldly spat out an incantation.

"Tinwé!"

The magic imbued within the lightning blade was awakened, glowing with a blue-white sheen. Accompanied by a crackling sound, an arc of electricity shot from the blade, striking the bugbear rogue five feet away. The moment the villain was electrocuted, his hair stood on end, and he shrieked, dropping his mace and trembling violently. Just as Joann was about to seize the opportunity to land a lethal blow, a gunshot rang out beside him. A spray of blood burst from the bugbear’s chest, and he collapsed, lifeless.

Roger ran over, clutching his hunting rifle, and asked with concern, "Joann, are you alright?"

Joann shook his head. "I'm fine, but Viss’s condition doesn't look good. Let’s go take a look."

The two arrived at Viss’s side, joined shortly by Dick and Tom, who looked at the short sword in Viss’s back with worry, wanting to pull it out but fearing the consequences.

Remembering he had a bottle of healing potion, Joann took it from his pack. He signaled for Dick to pull the sword from Viss’s back, and before the blood could surge out, he quickly poured half the potion onto the wound. The potion worked immediately; the bleeding stopped, but Viss remained unconscious, his complexion turning a sickly, dark hue.

Joann picked up the short sword to examine it, noticing a faint greenish tint on the blade and a subtle, acrid scent—it was clearly coated in some form of toxin.

Joann set the poisoned sword aside and poured the remaining half of the potion down Viss’s throat. The dark aura on Viss’s face faded slightly, but he still did not wake.

"The potion can only slow the poison, not cure it," Joann told his companions truthfully.

"That bugbear assassin—he might have an antidote on him!" Roger rushed to the bugbear's side, rummaging through his belongings in a frenzy.

The dying bugbear flickered his eyelids open with great effort and offered Roger a twisted smirk. "Pagg... won't die in vain... Captain Zarf is coming... all of you will be buried with Pagg..."

"Shut up, you bastard!" Roger backhanded him across the face. "Where is the antidote?"

The bugbear did not reply; the vicious smile froze on his face as he stopped breathing.

Roger searched the body twice from head to toe but failed to find any cure. He could only turn to Joann with a helpless shrug and a look of desperation.

"It seems that guy didn't carry an antidote on him. We have no choice but to push through the night. Let’s hope we make it to the military camp in time to ask Major George Vasa to cure him," Dick said, his expression grave.

"There is no other way. Viss is too unconscious to ride a horse; we’ll leave him in Gray’s care. Let’s get moving. It’s already dawn; if we don’t encounter any more accidents on the way, we should arrive by noon..."

Before Joann could finish his sentence, the very accident he feared most arrived.

Deep in the dense forest behind them, a wolf howled, followed by another, and then another, as if a large pack of starving wolves was rapidly closing in on the camp.