Chapter 47: The Young Fox Launches a Fierce Assault on the Enemy Camp

No wonder they’re so elite… What kind of person would send such a small, skilled unit to trouble Prince Nikola? Though Prince Nikola has a noble status, it seems… he’s not really worth the trouble of eliminating.

Venigo selected his first target. He slid gently down the slope, deftly disabling the warning traps guarding the mouth of the valley. These were simple alarm traps: once triggered, they would emit a loud alert. But to avoid false alarms from animals, the traps had been enhanced with beast dung to drive away small creatures. Though the traps were finely crafted and well concealed, their faint scent could still betray their presence.

Venigo possessed eyes that could see through anything. When he focused his gaze, his right eye easily discerned the subtle differences, spotting the fine wire hidden among the dried grass and broken twigs, and thus the warning trap itself. Disabling such a precise trap was simple: all it took was snipping a vital piece of copper wire.

Venigo didn’t pause, but pressed on. The subtle jet of air at his feet allowed him to glide along the ground with minimal resistance, as if skating. He soon spotted the first sentry—a lean, agile figure approaching, likely drawn by the disturbance in the warning trap. But he’d have no chance.

With a sudden burst of air beneath his feet, Venigo shot forward like a bullet. The lean man reacted instantly, raising the alarm as he drew a pair of silver daggers from his belt, aiming them fiercely and swiftly at Venigo’s chest and abdomen—fast, and a sound response. Yet he hadn’t anticipated Venigo’s unorthodox attack.

Venigo relied not on his own strength, but on his extraordinary vision and analytical prowess, the ability to see through things. The Eye of Insight had its limits: Venigo couldn’t see in the dark, nor could it replace a telescope or microscope to see farther or finer details. He had considered making night-vision goggles or a telescope, but those would blunt the Eye’s abilities unless he could craft ideal glass—utterly pure, perfectly transparent, precisely calibrated.

Its miraculous analytic power was itself a peculiar law—if not for strict limitations, it would have long been rejected by the world’s underlying rules.

Now, Venigo’s left hand released a burst of air, pressing into the lean man’s face and stifling his shout before it could escape. The twin daggers, quick as a snake's bite, missed their mark. With a subtle shift of his feet, Venigo’s sprint became an abrupt halt, sliding in an arc to attack from the side and rear.

His strength was modest, but with the acceleration of his azure wind, he needed little muscle; the momentum alone granted him formidable power. All Venigo had to do was bend his elbow. He raised it, striking with the force of a lance.

The lean man had never seen such an attack. He managed only half a turn before Venigo’s elbow crashed into his right eye, shattering his face and blinding him instantly.

Venigo pressed his advantage, kicking out. His heel erupted with a stream of air, making the blow even more powerful, with a slicing effect as well—yes, a mimicry of the Gale Kick.

The lean man was sent flying seven or eight meters, his abdomen grievously injured, and he fell unconscious. Venigo stepped forward, pressed his left hand to the man's throat, and tapped lightly.

Finger Gun—Imitation.

“One down… Well, the sneak attack failed. Time for a frontal assault,” Venigo sighed.

The lean man had uttered only half a cry, yet the camp was already alert. Venigo saw the camp’s lights flickering on one by one—a clear sign many had reacted.

While their muscles were still sluggish and minds not fully awake, a decisive attack was best. Venigo retrieved a firework from his waist pouch and tossed it skyward.

The firework burst in midair, releasing a cloud of powder that oxidized and burned rapidly, painting a dazzling rainbow pattern in the sky.

Swoosh!

Sophie never shouted. She spoke with her sword. Her broad blade, not particularly sharp, cut through the air, its whistling wind her battle cry. Responding to Venigo’s signal, Sophie leapt from a small hill beside the valley, her sword cleaving two men who had just exited their tents. Without pausing to check her handiwork, she dashed toward another tent.

Hani was atop another hill, hopping from rock to rock, occasionally peering down. Beside her, the big cat Cait Sith lay bored on the ground, its slit eyes scanning alertly.

“Well, it’s starting—the showtime…” Venigo murmured with a laugh.

Character construction: Street Fighter series, Instinctive Wrestling Style, Abel—Manifest!

Abel mastered many martial arts, blending them into his unique instinctive wrestling style. Though called wrestling, Abel’s combat included plenty of punches, kicks, and elbow strikes, but his greatest skill lay in grappling.

His superb physique, astonishing reflexes, and fighting instinct made Abel a formidable opponent. His fighting style was simple and direct—strong, but not brutal.

Most importantly, Abel’s “existence” required only a wrestling suit, a pair of gloves, and knee-high foot guards—precisely the parts corresponding to Venigo’s azure wind suit.

Thus, all Venigo had to prepare was a blue wrestling outfit.

“Attack—” Venigo said, his voice slow and rigid, mimicking Abel.

A sudden burst of air propelled him forward, gliding rapidly. He soon encountered defenders rushing from the camp.

Now, Venigo was Abel—silent and stoic. He uttered no sound, only stretched out his arms to embrace forward.

Grapple, slam! Venigo leaned forward; the enemy caught in his arms became ammunition, hurled violently at another foe.

The second opponent managed to raise a small shield, trying to absorb the impact and rescue his comrade. But Venigo, propelled by the azure wind, quickly attacked from the side.

Waist hold, upward lift, then a fierce slam downward—Venigo easily dispatched two strong opponents, brushed his hands clean, and pressed on.

Abel’s actual strength was only average, but his close-range grappling techniques were rare in this world, and with the azure wind’s energy manipulation, his fighting style became even more unpredictable.

Imagine a powerful giant moving like a ninja—leaping twice, hovering in midair, performing impossible agile maneuvers…

Within minutes, Venigo had already breached the enemy camp, joining up with Sophie who had charged in from another direction.

“Fast,” Sophie nodded, swinging her sword to cut down a heavy-bladed foe lunging from behind.

“Likewise, you’re a step ahead,” Venigo replied in a deep voice. He rolled forward, appearing behind Sophie, grabbing a spear-wielding attacker and throwing him high.

The azure wind surged, lifting Venigo into the air. Clamping the man around the waist, Venigo pressed down, his shoulder locking the man’s power point, rendering him immobile as they plummeted like a meteor.

The impact not only crushed the man Venigo held, but knocked down every nearby enemy as well. Once on the ground, Venigo’s hand unleashed a spiral of air.

Like an invisible sword, it swept across, leaving six bloody holes in the throats of those fallen. Venigo strode silently toward the camp’s center.

Sophie followed, disdaining to strike foes who had lost the will to fight. Venigo, however, lacked such pride; he preferred ensuring no dying enemy could rise up and attack from behind.

“There are… only two of you?” came the suppressed, angry voice of a middle-aged man from within the camp. “You mean to tell me… that such… weaklings have forced us into this situation?”

“Greetings, I am Abel, come to claim your life,” Venigo said in a deep voice.

“You? You, a weakling like you…” The suppressed voice suddenly exploded in fury: “Die! Die! All of you, disappear!”

From the building the voice emerged, the wall shattered—a burly man shot out from the rubble, charging at Venigo.

Each hand wielded an exotic weapon—curved steel plates, sharpened at the edges, glowing with an eerie blue light.

Sophie stepped forward, sword raised, blocking Venigo. In her eyes, Venigo, unarmed, was not suited to face such a foe.

Venigo smiled, stepped back half a pace, and scanned around. About seven or eight armed men were closing in.

“We’re not just two…” Venigo laughed softly.

In the distance, little Hani’s expression turned serious, hands raised as she muttered a mysterious prayer. In her hands, an unknown light flickered.

Divine Art—Berserk!

Among the encircling enemies, the largest brute’s eyes suddenly turned blood-red. Without hesitation, he swung his hammer-club at the closest ally. The others tried desperately to restrain him, but in his frenzy, his power soared, and his wild swings forced his comrades back step by step.

A fine catch, Venigo laughed grimly.