The black-robed leader was undoubtedly powerful—so much so that Ashura couldn't even discern his martial rank.
Hiding among the trees, he could do nothing but worry for the dwarves.
With the black-robed leader joining the fray, the dwarven chief quickly fell into disadvantage, his giant battle-axe swinging more sluggishly with each passing moment.
Just when the black-robed men thought victory was at hand, the dwarven chief suddenly let out a thunderous roar—
"Battle spirit surges!"
His muscles swelled, and a faint red flame ignited around his body. The crimson chains binding him loosened slightly.
In the next instant, the dwarven chief unleashed a devastating martial skill, sending five surrounding black-robed men flying!
All five landed hard, injured and groaning.
Even the black-robed leader spat blood, clearly seriously wounded.
Watching this, Ashura felt an uncontrollable thrill—he had never seen such an intense battle before!
The dwarven chief must have activated his innate battle technique, suddenly elevating his combat strength to a whole new level.
Seeing the tide turning in favor of the dwarves, Ashura felt a sense of relief—and an even stronger desire to become stronger himself.
After knocking back his enemies, the dwarven chief turned and began helping his warriors cut down the black-robed men.
But when he saw so many of his warriors injured and bloodied, his rage erupted like a volcano.
His eyes locked onto the wounded black-robed leader, and with a furious bellow, he charged forward—his massive battle-axe raised high, aiming to cleave the enemy leader in two!
The black-robed leader's face twisted in shock and fury—he had completely underestimated this dwarf!
His expression darkened as a vicious glint flashed in his eyes.
Suddenly—
He grabbed the chests of two injured subordinates nearby, his fingers piercing through their flesh.
With a cruel twist, he crushed their hearts—
And shouted: "Blood Sacrifice: Ghost Binding!"
As the two bodies collapsed lifelessly to the ground, the entire formation flared with a sudden burst of crimson light!
The loosening chains around the dwarven chief instantly tightened once more—
And more chains shot out, wrapping tightly around his raised battle-axe, freezing it in place!
No matter how furiously the dwarven chief struggled, the chains held firm, wrapping his entire body in a web of blood-red steel.
Seeing their leader trapped, the other dwarves tried to rush to his aid—
But the black-robed men held them back, fighting desperately to prevent their escape.
The black-robed leader let out a sinister, high-pitched laugh as he rose to his feet, casually dusting off his robe.
Stepping forward, he mockingly gazed at the dwarven chief, who was still struggling within his chains.
"Did you really think you could defy me, dwarf?" he sneered.
"Once I brand you with my seal, you'll become my strongest slave!"
He chuckled darkly. "And don't worry, I'll capture more of your kind to keep you company. Becoming a slave of our great Blood Eclipse organization should be an honor for your pathetic race!"
Ashura, still hidden in the trees, felt his heart sink deeper with every word.
Why did these black-robed men want so many dwarves?
And what was this "Blood Eclipse" organization he had never heard of before?
Everything about these people reeked of evil—especially their willingness to sacrifice their own allies just to activate a formation.
The dwarven chief, filled with rage and shame, summoned every ounce of his strength to bring down his battle-axe...
But the chains held firm, rendering his weapon completely immobile.
Seeing this, the black-robed leader laughed loudly.
Step by step, he approached the dwarven chief, until the towering battle-axe hovered just a fist's width away from his own face.
With a mocking smirk, he taunted:
"Go on then! Strike me down! Come on, try it! Oh wait, you can't, can you? Hahaha! Be a good little dwarf and accept your fate as my slave!"
As he spoke, he reached out his hand, preparing to pat the dwarven chief's furious face in sheer mockery—
But then—
A flash of light.
The crimson chains suddenly flickered—
And vanished!
With nothing restraining it, the battle-axe—still driven by the dwarven chief's full force—came crashing down.
With a single, effortless strike, it cleaved straight through the black-robed leader's body, slicing him in half from his left shoulder down!
Silence.
Everyone froze, staring in stunned disbelief at what had just happened.
Even the dwarven chief, thrown slightly off balance by the sudden lack of resistance, looked genuinely confused.
The black-robed leader's upper half slowly turned, his face contorted in shock and horror.
Then—
His eyes landed on a figure standing beneath a distant tree.
It was a young man, his arm raised to shield his face, his other hand clutching a small black flag—
The very flag the black-robed leader had planted as the formation's core just the night before…
His lips parted, as if trying to speak, but only blood gushed forth.
His eyes widened, refusing to close, as if he desperately wanted to see clearly the one who had brought about his demise…
With the chains gone, the dwarven warriors unleashed their full fury.
The black-robed men, leaderless and panicked, quickly fell into chaos—and the battle turned into a one-sided massacre.
Ashura, still standing behind the tree, kept his face half-covered, clutching the black flag tightly.
He anxiously watched the battlefield, worried that any surviving black-robed men might come seeking revenge.
Fortunately, the battle ended swiftly—not a single black-robed man escaped.
Only the heavy, ragged breaths of the dwarven warriors remained in the blood-soaked battlefield.
Seeing that all enemies had been eliminated, Ashura exhaled in relief.
Not wanting to cause more trouble, he began to quietly step backward, preparing to slip away unnoticed.
But then—
"Stop right there!"
The dwarven chief's voice thundered through the air.
In an instant, he was charging toward Ashura—his footsteps booming like war drums.
Ashura's blood ran cold.
He had just witnessed this dwarf's terrifying charge in battle.
The only difference was—this time, his battle-axe wasn't raised.
Still—
The sheer pressure of his approach froze Ashura in place.
The dwarven chief halted before him, his gaze piercing and suspicious.
His eyes flicked from the young man's hidden face to the black flag in his grip.
Seeming deep in thought—
Ashura, heart pounding, quickly blurted out:
"I mean no harm! I just helped you!"
And so, surrounded by watchful dwarven warriors, Ashura hurriedly recounted everything—
From how he had arrived here, to how he had been trapped in the tree, to how he had witnessed everything unfold.
The dwarven chief listened silently.
Then—
The red flames surrounding his body vanished, his aura weakening instantly.
Reaching into his storage pouch, he pulled out a massive barrel—
Popped it open—
And began chugging alcohol straight from the source.
Dark red liquid dribbled down his beard, filling the air with a strong, intoxicating aroma.
Seeing this, Ashura couldn't help but gape in astonishment.
Grandfather was right—dwarves are indeed obsessed with alcohol!
Ashura himself wasn't sure why he had been bold enough to intervene in that battle. Perhaps it was his innate kindness that ultimately drove his decision.
All he could do was disrupt the magic array. He had covered his face with his arm, not just to protect himself but also to avoid ruining the black-robed man's plans—after all, if they met again, he didn't want to give the man a reason to take revenge...
After drinking more than half a barrel of strong liquor, the dwarven warrior chief visibly perked up. Seeing Ashura still shielding his face with his arm, he suddenly burst into laughter!
Without hesitation, he reached out, pulled Ashura to his side, and gave him a firm bear hug. His muscular arms pounded the young man's back as he sincerely declared, "Thank you, my friend!"
With the dwarf leader's forceful pull, Ashura's arm was yanked away, revealing his youthful face. However, that heartfelt hug nearly knocked the wind out of him!
The heavy slaps on his back made him grimace in pain, leaving him momentarily speechless.
Seeing Ashura's reaction, the surrounding dwarves all roared with laughter...
Realizing the boy's frail physique, the dwarven chief scratched his head in embarrassment and said again, "My friend, my name is Kasa. What's yours?"
With that, he handed a nearby barrel of liquor to Ashura.
Still leaning against a tree, gasping for breath, a peculiar thought suddenly popped into Ashura's mind—My father must have loved me after all. He's hit me so many times, but never once as hard as this dwarf's slap...
Quickly shaking off the ridiculous notion, he looked at the enthusiastic dwarven warriors before him. His mood brightened, and he smiled.
"My name is Ashura, from the Kingdom of Olay!"
Reaching out, he took the barrel from Kasa. It was heavier than expected, but he mimicked the dwarves' drinking style and took a big gulp…
What Ashura didn't know was that for the alcohol-loving dwarves, sharing their prized liquor was a sign of true friendship!
What he also didn't know was that the drink Kasa had handed him was the legendary War God's Brew—a potent dwarven liquor that burned like molten lava down his throat and carried mysterious effects…