Firas furrowed his brows and read the words on the mission dispatch board three times.
“Firas, Li Fan: Mid-depth Forest Tracking.
Objective: Confirm the operational range of Amani scouts.
Engaging in combat strictly forbidden.” Before the morning mist had lifted, Li Fan was already waiting outside the camp gates.
With a heavy bow slung diagonally across his back and his quiver strapped tight, he stood motionless like a statue, exuding the steady calm of a hunter.
Firas walked up with a grim face.
The two exchanged a single glance without exchanging pleasantries, then stepped into the deep woods in lockstep.
The terrain in the mid-depth forest was far more treacherous than the edge of the northern foothills.
Firas kept his eyes shut, cautiously spreading his arcane perception out like an invisible net.
Within this net, the residual scent of Amani witch doctors stood out as clearly as fireflies in the dark.
This was an art of tracking unique to elves.
Li Fan, on the other hand, was interpreting the forest in the crude manner of a human.
His gaze hungrily swept over the depth of footprints, broken twigs, and even the gaps through which the gentle breeze filtered.
Scouts under high alert instinctively distributed their body weight upon landing, leaving evenly contoured prints.
Once relaxed, their stride carried momentum, making the heel impression noticeably deeper than the toe.
The two traveled through the dense forest for forty minutes before stopping in front of a muddy swamp that reeked of a pungent stench.
Firas abruptly drew in his arcane perception and spoke in a low voice, “Two potential targets ahead moving slowly toward the northeast.
Their pace is too sluggish—they must be setting traps.” Li Fan was already crouching on one knee beside the mud, his finger hovering over a fresh footprint.
“Your assessment is wrong,” Li Fan said in a deep voice.
“This sluggishness isn’t from setting traps.
They’re waiting.” Firas frowned, a hint of doubt surfacing in his eyes.
Without wasting words, Li Fan pointed directly at a subtle depression on the outer edge of the muddy print.
“When someone suddenly turns their head while marching, their full body weight exerts a momentary, sharp shift away from the direction they’re looking.
Look here—this is definitely not a normal weight distribution.
When they got here, they stopped, turned their heads warily, and stared right back at the direction we were tracking them from.” Firas’s gaze followed Li Fan’s finger to the mud hollow.
He fell silent for two seconds as a cold sweat broke out.
“You mean…
up ahead is a pocket ambush set specifically for us?” “Yes.” “Our orders forbid us from engaging.” “The situation is critical.
We ignore that.” With unspoken coordination, both took half a step back, melting behind the massive root system of an ancient tree.
Li Fan’s voice was as faint as a whisper.
“Circle west.
Creep along the boundary where the swamp meets the hard ground forest.
The layer of dead leaves there is quieter than water.
We’ll flank them.
You’re responsible for using an arcane arrow to expose the outermost target and draw all their attention.
I’ll enter from the shadows.” Firas did not object.
He closed his eyes and rapidly simulated the tactics in his mind—entry point, sniping angle, wind variance, and the reflection of light on the water.
Two seconds later, he opened his eyes and gave a firm nod.
Like two gray blades, they broke off to either flank.
Firas’s footsteps on the dry leaves were breathtakingly light.
His forefoot touched down softly, transitioning his weight seamlessly without producing a single crunch of broken foliage.
Reaching the sniping position, Firas sprang up from the shadows, drawing his longbow to a full moon in an instant!
*Twang—!* The bowstring erupted!
A brilliant streak of blue-white arcane light tore through the air with a piercing shriek like a flare detonated over the marsh, plunging straight toward the outermost troll!
The sudden glare and lethal intent instantly pinned the nerves of both Amani scouts to the right flank!
In that exact instant, Li Fan charged in from the left blind spot like a tiger descending the mountain!
His combat boots plunged into the soft mud, ankles instantly sinking deep.
Yet without the slightest panic, he threw his center of gravity outward in a violent heave, using the lateral recoil to tear himself out of the sludge.
Though his speed dropped a beat, the trolls whose legs were bogged down in the mire turned even slower than he did!
This time, Li Fan didn’t touch the black bow on his back at all.
A short blade slipped like a cold viper from his boot shaft straight into his palm.
Closing in on the first target, Li Fan’s rough hand clamped brutally around the troll’s throat from the side.
The dagger thrust violently into the gap between the ribs like cold lightning, his wrist twisting with brutal force!
The shrill scream was jammed dead in the throat.
Li Fan lowered his center of gravity, easing the massive body down to a slow kneel without letting it hit the ground with a heavy thud.
Drawing the blade, he pushed forward.
Just as the second target turned halfway around, Firas’s arrow arrived.
Blood geysered like a fountain, yet made no sound.
After the battle, looking utterly drained, the two sat with their backs against an ancient tree.
Staring at the dead silence of the marsh ahead, Firas said in a raspy voice, “When you said to flank them, I knew you were right.
But I still subconsciously needed two seconds to verify it.
In a critical clash like that, those two seconds of hesitation could have killed us both.” “Then compress it to one second.
Or even half a second,” Li Fan said flatly, as if stating the most obvious fact.
“How?” “You’ve been watching me from the sidelines this whole time.
With your caliber as an elven ranger, you should have figured out my decision-making process long ago.” Li Fan casually plucked at his mud-splattered bowstring.
“Etch that unorthodox logic into your mind.
Next time I call to flank, just do it—no need to run it through your tactical formulas.
Just like when you draw your bow, you don’t need to calculate how much strength to use.” Firas stared intently at the bubbling mud pool.
“This madman logic of yours is indeed much easier to understand than I thought.” “That only means you’ve been secretly watching me long enough,” Li Fan retorted without hesitation.
For once, Firas didn’t shoot back.
His tense shoulders finally relaxed.
The forest path on the return journey was slightly wider, and the two walked side by side.
Back at camp, Li Fan didn’t rush back to his quarters.
Instead, he stopped at the far end of the eastern corridor.
The evening twilight filtered through the pillars, casting a stark light over the bluestone slab that bore countless lives and deaths.
Li Fan walked over to the empty spot on the far right and crouched on one knee.
He drew his dagger, drove the tip hard against the stone, and exerted his strength!
*Skrrrt—* The carving was finished.
Li Fan stood up, looking down to inspect his handiwork.
He crisply sheathed his dagger and turned toward the bustling camp.