“Look, it seems to be drawing something—probably some kind of mysterious rune,” someone warned.
Su Mo saw it too, and it felt vaguely familiar.
Then it hit him: Qin Xun had looked the same when setting up the Eight Trigrams Array back then, though he’d been far more skilled than this frogman leader.
“Everyone, stop it! It’s setting up an array!”
The group was startled. Abandoning their earlier plan to stall, they all charged forward.
The first to block them was the incomplete C-grade frogman that Su Mo had previously slashed. It clashed with Marshal, the two locked in a fierce back-and-forth.
“Ba—er, Star Sister, cover me! I’ll stop it!” Su Mo decided to push himself further, his body instantly wreathed in ghostly flames.
The others, acknowledging Su Mo’s superior combat skills, willingly provided cover.
“Be careful.”
“Got it.”
BOOM—
He shot into the enemy ranks like a blur, leaving a mist of blood in his wake.
Just then, the frogman leader suddenly grinned, its tongue transforming into a needle-like spike that shot straight for Su Mo’s forehead.
THUD!
The thick alloy shield was pierced—but only an inch deep, stopping just short of going all the way through.
“Did you really think I’d just charge in to die?” Su Mo sneered, then unleashed the sixth stance of the Pojun Blade Technique—Battle Heaven and Earth.
The unstoppable momentum perfectly matched his fighting style, as if the technique had been tailor-made for him.
With a CRACK, the half-formed array was split open by Su Mo’s blade.
“Hah, so weak. Thought it’d be tougher,” he taunted, raising his sword for another strike.
The frogman leader: “???”
Facing imminent failure, it suddenly pulled out a massive spirit stone and crushed it without hesitation, though a flicker of pain flashed in its eyes.
A surge of spiritual energy poured into the array, repairing the damage almost instantly. The formation glowed with a silver light.
Not good!
Su Mo hadn’t expected it to have a way to restore the array so quickly.
“Croak-croak-croak…!” It burst into maniacal laughter, prostrating itself at the center of the formation.
The other frogmen abruptly stopped fighting, turning to watch with reverence.
Without another word, Su Mo swung his blade at the leader’s head.
“CROAK!” A rift tore open at the array’s center, and a powerful voice boomed from within.
Su Mo was sent flying dozens of meters, his right hand trembling uncontrollably.
When he looked up, he saw what had repelled him—a tongue, harder than steel.
A red frogman stepped through the spatial rift. With a casual flick of its wrist, it launched a blade of air that shrieked with such speed that Su Mo had no hope of dodging.
Suddenly, something coiled around his waist—a vine as thick as an arm.
He knew these vines all too well. Yang Jie had saved him.
“Friend, where’s your honor? Attacking a junior like that?” Yang Jie’s icy voice echoed from all directions, as if every writhing vine was part of him.
The frogmen, still bowing, frantically searched for the source of the voice—unaware of the vines erupting beneath them.
THWIP!
In an instant, they were skewered like candied hawthorns, dying without so much as a sound.
Then, an even thicker vine shot up from the ground, lifting Yang Jie to loom over the battlefield.
Adjusting his glasses, his usually deadpan face curled into a mocking smirk. “Apologies. I’m a man of principle—I believe in reciprocity.”
…..
The special operations team had arrived with eleven members. Aside from Su Mo, the rest were D-grade, with over half being awakened.
Among the frogmen, aside from the one Su Mo had decapitated, no other C-grade threats had yet emerged.
But that didn’t mean there weren’t any. Their leader, for instance, was likely also C-grade—and even stronger.
Still, the fact that a C-grade had been severely wounded by an E-grade had demoralized the frogmen, forcing them to retreat temporarily.
The special ops team hadn’t escaped unscathed either: two were critically injured, one was unconscious, and the remaining eight bore wounds of varying severity—with Sun Yuchen being the least hurt.
His fire abilities made him someone even the frogmen avoided—unless a C-grade specifically targeted him.
“Are they… scared?” someone wondered.
“Hard to say. But if they are, we should buy as much time as we can. Once ‘The Prince’ arrives, things’ll get easier.”
Week Eight was still fuming. “Just let me get my hands on that thing,” she growled, “and I’ll skin it alive.”
Su Mo glanced at her, noticing her still-swollen face. “Eight Sis, I—”
“Call me Star Sis or Qi Sis,” she snapped. “Call me ‘Eight Sis’ again, and I’ll start calling you ‘Monkey King.’” She exhaled sharply. “Enough talk. Let’s focus on solving this.”
“What if—I try talking to them?” A’Kun suddenly suggested. “Usually, creatures this strong are intelligent.”
Someone rolled their eyes. “Dude, this isn’t a game…”
“Worth a shot, isn’t it?” Clearing his throat, A’Kun shouted, “Attention, frogmen! This is the North Star Special Operations Team. Due to your unlawful disruption of public order, acts of violence, and destruction of property, you are hereby ordered to surrender immediately—or face annihilation!”
“That’s not negotiation. That’s a threat.”
“Exactly. If they understand us, threats work best. Otherwise, they’ll just play dumb.” A’Kun’s voice turned cold. “And so what if it’s a threat? They’ve killed so many—death’s too good for them.”
The frogman leader seemed to understand, its mouth moving as if speaking—but to Su Mo and the others, it sounded like a dog barking.
You know it’s trying to communicate, but the meaning is lost.
Su Mo studied its expression. It didn’t look friendly—more like it was issuing threats.
And the whole time, its gaze never left Su Mo—especially the Tetanus Blade in his hand.
“Seems they’re wary of us too. They won’t attack recklessly. I suggest assigning one person to protect Zhong Biao’s group while the other seven stay combat-ready,” a middle-aged man proposed.
Everyone’s eyes landed on Sun Yuchen.
He was the obvious choice.
Sun Yuchen forced a smile. A fire-attribute Awakened, reduced to babysitting duty instead of being the team’s DPS…
“Fine.”
The middle-aged man—Marshal, the team’s third-strongest and hailed as the “strongest below C-grade”—clapped Sun Yuchen’s shoulder before turning to Su Mo.
“So you’re Yi E Ye? An A-grade talent, no wonder you’re this strong even at E-grade.”
Privately, Marshal was a little bitter. Being upstaged by a girl under twenty didn’t sit well with him.
Su Mo, however, played it humble, brushing off his feats as “just luck.”