The War God's Homecoming
Chapter 417 Despicable Actions

Chapter 417 Despicable Actions

Sanctum of Darkness had clearly come well-prepared this time. Besides their elite forces, their mid and low-level combatants were also quite formidable. Most of the members on Orson Harding's side were only at the Battle Master level, making them significantly outclassed by the enemy. In no time, dozens of their people had fallen.

"Damn it!" Orson Harding shouted angrily after cutting down an opponent, then he raised his blade and charged towards one of Sanctum of Darkness's deputy commanders.

"You must be that Captain, right?" The enemy man gave Orson Harding a disdainful look. "Today, you Glavale people are going to die, and none of you will escape."

"You can go to hell!" Orson yelled back and launched an attack.

"Idiot!" The man sneered. "With your level of strength, you dare to roam around Place of Darkness? You're an embarrassment!"

With that, he raised his blade to counter Orson's attack. Orson was at the Warlord Preliminary stage, while the enemy was a level above him. After just a few exchanges, Orson Harding had several bloody wounds on his body.

"I've heard so much about how formidable Glavaleans are, but it seems like it's all talk," the enemy man taunted. "With your current strength, you dare to wander around Place of Darkness? It's truly shameful."

"Go to hell!" Orson roared and launched another attack.

"Ha!" As they clashed once more, the man managed to strike Orson's right arm, causing a spray of blood.

"Captain!" A man with a crew cut rushed over.

"Oh, another one seeking death?" The enemy man sneered.

"I killed you!" The man with the crew cut roared and charged at the enemy.

"What a joke. You're even weaker than him. How do you plan to kill me?" The enemy man mocked as he struck the crew-cut man with his blade.

The crew-cut man, weaker than his opponent, was sent flying back several steps, clutching his injured arm in agony.

"Captain, you should retreat first. I'll hold him off for a while!" the bald-headed man shouted and charged back into the fight.

"I told you, everyone here will die today!" the opponent said, raising his knife for another strike.

The two continued to battle. The bald-headed man was no match for his opponent, and within just a few rounds, his body was covered in wounds. Seeing this, Orson Harding furrowed his brow and retreated, putting several dozen meters of distance between himself and the ongoing battle.

"Captain, please order a retreat! Otherwise, all we will die here today!" one of the five men called out.

"Go to hell!" Orson roared, slashing one of them down.

"Jim!" The other four men cried out in anguish.

"Why are you four still standing here? Get back and fight!" Orson Harding roared at the four men.

"Captain, you..." the bald-headed man who had witnessed the death of their comrade spoke, his face filled with pain. It was their brother-in-arms who had fought alongside them, and he had been slain by Orson Harding with a single strike. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through the man's shoulder, and he felt his right arm, along with his large knife, fall to the ground, blood gushing out like a fountain. "Ah!" the bald-headed man cried out in pain.

Seeing this, Orson Harding shuddered and wasted no time in escaping to the side without hesitation.

"Tsk tsk, Captain, you're quite ruthless, huh?" the opposing man taunted with a smirk. "But you can't escape either."

With those words, the man paid no more attention to the bald-headed man and swiftly chased after Orson Harding. In the blink of an eye, he caught up, raised his blade, and struck.

Orson Harding sensed the imminent danger behind him and quickly turned to block the attack with his own blade.

The next moment, his large knife was cleaved in two, and a gash appeared on his arm. He was sent stumbling backward about seven or eight steps. What filled him with despair was that he hadn't even stabilized his footing when the opponent's blade came slashing down again. Given his current condition, he had no hope of blocking this strike.

"No..." Orson Harding shouted in desperation. Without hesitation, he pulled one of his subordinates from nearby, using him as a shield.

The blade pierced through the man's chest, turning his flesh into a bloody mess.

"Captain... you..." the man gasped painfully before collapsing.

"Jesse!" three other men nearby cried out in anguish as they witnessed the scene. However, they didn't dare vent their anger at Orson Harding. Instead, their faces filled with fury as they raised their own large knives and charged at the man from Sanctum of Darkness.

"Having a leader like this, you guys still sacrifice your lives for him? I must say, I'm quite impressed!" the opposing man sneered coldly.

"Since you're so eager to die, let me send you on your way!" The enemy man coldly declared. He then swiftly attacked with his blade, striking down the three men who were only at the Battle Master level. They had no chance of resisting and could only watch as the blade approached, growing larger in their pupils.

"Killers of Glavalean, die!" Just then, a furious shout rang out, and a powerful blade aura swept over.

"Hmm?" The enemy man immediately sensed a chilling killing intent enveloping him, causing his pupils to contract rapidly. Without time for further thought, he quickly retracted his attack, and the blade in his hand was deflected. However, with a blade as destructive as a force of nature, the other blade cleaved his large knife in two before flashing past his forehead.

"Good... good strength..." The enemy managed to utter a few words before a bloody line appeared from his forehead to his chin, and he fell lifelessly to the ground.

"Orson Harding, you heartless bastard! Are you even human?" The newcomer was White Tiger, and he roared at Orson in anger. He had never imagined that Orson Harding would stoop so low as to sacrifice his own subordinates, which was despicable!

"Furthermore, I already told you to lead your men in a retreat. Do you take my words as a joke? How many people do you want to get killed?" White Tiger continued to berate him.

At this point, the battle had taken a one-sided turn. Orson Harding's side was completely overwhelmed, and more than three to four hundred of their people were already lying on the ground. The remaining few hundred were also in bad shape, most of them with injuries, and likely wouldn't last another twenty minutes.

"White Tiger, isn't Rakshasa Hall overseeing things too broadly? The matters here should be under my control..." Orson Harding began to reply.

Before he could finish his sentence, White Tiger struck him hard across the face with a powerful slap. Orson tumbled on the ground again before collapsing on the ground, coughing up a mouthful of blood. "You wait and see, I'll deal with you later!" White Tiger roared and rushed towards the members of Sanctum of Darkness.

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