Chapter 379: One Against Ten (Part 4)

“Is he really this strong?” Wu Qingsong was slightly surprised by Sertans’ performance. While he had long been capable of handling multiple opponents with ease, this display had far exceeded his expectations.

“Maybe it has something to do with how we healed his old injuries,” Nina answered in a low voice. “The key point is that Sertans clearly has extensive combat, no, killing experience. His movements are incredibly precise and efficient, whereas his opponents are only accustomed to low-intensity tribal skirmishes. There’s too much posturing and bluffing, and their awareness and control over their own strength are far too weak.”

“Could you defeat him?” Wu Qingsong asked. “I mean, if neither of you used your abilities?”

Nina rolled her eyes at him, something she rarely did. “What do you think?”

The beastfolk standing across from them hesitated.

The fallen bearman quickly got back on his feet, but he had no face to continue challenging Sertans.

He wasn’t particularly bright and was certainly arrogant, but even he understood that if Sertans had been using the spear’s tip instead of its butt, he would already be dead.

He was not the strongest among the beastfolk, merely the most reckless. But the fact that he had the courage to step forward and wasn’t immediately jeered off the field showed that he wasn’t just some nameless fighter.

Wu Qingsong watched them with interest, not pressuring them to act. Of course, if no one dared to step up, he wouldn’t mind simply declaring Sertans the victor.

Finally, the second challenger emerged—a well-built wolfman.

After offering Nina a respectful bow, he drew his sword and grabbed a large round shield from the side, cautiously advancing toward Sertans.

Sertans, recognizing the change in opponent, adopted a similarly cautious stance. The two slowly closed the distance between them.

Suddenly, Sertans let out another roar and slammed his spear down hard onto the wolfman’s shield!

The wolfman immediately raised his shield to block, but he underestimated the sheer force behind the strike. More importantly, he underestimated Sertans’ relentless aggression.

As the spear’s impact forced the shield downward, momentarily obstructing the wolfman’s vision, Sertans swiftly circled to his rear.

The large round shield, while offering ample protection, also burdened the wolfman with extra weight and obstructed his field of view. When he sensed a threat from behind and instinctively turned to follow Sertans’ movement, Sertans abruptly reversed his direction, slipping to the opposite side. The wolfman’s momentum continued as before, unconsciously exposing his chest.

Sertans wasted no time. He raised his spear and thrust forward, sending the wolfman stumbling backward. His grip faltered, and the shield was knocked from his grasp.

The wolfman froze. His prized swordsmanship had never even had a chance to come into play. Looking down at his shattered breastplate, struck by the spear’s blunt end, he understood that in a real battle, that strike might not have killed him outright—but it certainly would have rendered him incapable of fighting further.

“Incredible,” Wu Qingsong admitted.

Sertans’ style was completely different from Nina’s. 

Nina’s swordsmanship emphasized raw power—many of her enemies were simply cleaved away, weapon and all. Sertans, on the other hand, used force strategically to create lethal openings.

This wasn’t to say that Nina’s swordsmanship was lacking. But compared to Sertans’ technique, her style felt more rugged and exaggerated in its movements.

Perhaps it was because Sertans had faced too many brutal battles. His spear techniques had little room for feints, drawn-out engagements, or grandiose swings. They were refined for the battlefield, where there was no space to dodge, no room for hesitation—only split-second chances for survival, seized with absolute precision.

His spear was like a venomous serpent hiding in the grass. Every strike found its mark.

None of his fights lasted more than thirty seconds from the moment he stepped forward. Many of the beastfolk warriors felt stifled—this wasn’t the rhythm of combat they were used to in the northern wastelands. Before they could showcase their skills or strength, they were already on the ground.

The only comfort they found was that, despite his seemingly effortless victories, this kind of fighting was incredibly demanding on stamina and concentration. Sertans was clearly starting to wear down. His breathing had become heavy, and his movements noticeably slower.

“This isn’t just about winning or losing anymore,” a wolfman muttered to the other warriors. “If we let an old man beat us all, how will we ever hold our heads up again?”

“So what do we do?” a bearman growled in frustration.

Even knowing that Sertans was growing tired, they had lost their confidence in victory.

“We still have four people left. If we lose, we won’t get another chance,” the wolfman said. “Now isn’t the time to sit back and let others do the work.”

“You’re no different!” the lone tigerman among them snapped.

“I’ll go seventh and focus on wearing him down as much as possible,” the wolfman said. “The next challenger should do the same. We need to decide on an order beforehand. If I lose, the next fighter should step in immediately. Don’t give him time to rest. That way, the last two challengers will have the best shot at winning. If one of us wins, we don’t forget what the rest of us did to make it happen.”

It was a dishonorable and underhanded tactic, but after a moment of silence, no one objected.

“Fine, I’m in. Who’s next?” the wolfman asked.

“This guy…” Wu Qingsong muttered in mild surprise.

The wolfman entered the field like a reluctant gladiator, with no intention of actually winning. He kept his distance from Sertans, cautiously avoiding any direct confrontation. The moment Sertans moved, he would immediately retreat, dodging at every opportunity. But whenever Sertans paused to rest, he would step forward again, maintaining a constant mental and physical pressure.

Eventually, he was knocked down with a single thrust.

But the next challenger—a tigerman—adopted the exact same strategy.

Now, it was becoming distasteful.

He continuously kept Sertans under psychological and physical strain, forcing him to expend energy. When the tigerfolk was finally defeated, Sertans was drenched in sweat, his grip on his spear visibly trembling.

At that moment, another bearman charged forward, axe raised high.