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"There's nothing much to it. It's just that many human armies have made this choice before. The first one to use it is a genius, the second one is talented, but the third one is a fool." Catherine explained amidst everyone's admiration.

"The Duel of Martial Souls" is one of the single combat rules established six hundred years ago, which was implemented until the collapse of the Orc Empire and accepted by the vast majority of races. Now, with the humans withdrawing their main force more than a kilometer away, leaving only three thousand soldiers, it signifies their intention to engage in a decisive three-battle duel. The remaining soldiers are noble private troops, lacking the uniformity of regular legions but possessing superior individual combat strength and equipment.

"Chief Bloodhoof, please lead three thousand Minos warriors out of the city to form an array. Master Wellington, please watch from the city walls. Catherine, come with me out of the city. Today, we'll show them who the frog in the well is!" I couldn't help but revert to my martial nature, feeling invigorated at the prospect of a full-fledged battle.

"Lord Xuanfeng, what does 'frog in the well' mean?"

"Cough... Catherine, I'll explain that to you later."

The fact of my reincarnation has always been a secret I've kept to myself, never revealing it to anyone, as no one would believe it anyway. So, I might as well focus on being a werewolf. The disciples of Peach Blossom Island have always treated etiquette and morals as nonsense. Back then, I practiced my skills on living beings without any qualms, so I don't care about my human identity now. However, having read extensively in my past life, these philosophical anecdotes have seeped into my heart. Although the language barrier prevents me from casually reciting elegant prose, some of these stories slip out inadvertently. In the past, the people I encountered were either uncultured or unfamiliar with orc culture, so they simply thought I was profound or nonsensical. But now, with the brilliant and well-read Catherine, she always asks questions when she hears something beyond her knowledge, forcing me to explain these anecdotes, watching the awe in her eyes while feeling guilty for my deception. Although I don't care about morality, such behavior lacks "integrity," a term I must be careful not to mention.

Upon exiting the city gates, we saw seven or eight humans standing in front of the opposing army. Leading them was Basten, the one who demonstrated his super-loud voice yesterday. Today, he wore golden armor but didn't bring his silver-winged unicorn. The others behind him wore various outfits—some heavy armor, others luxurious silk garments—but all had considerable strength regardless of their attire.

"Which one of you orcs is your leader?" Basten stepped forward and asked loudly.

"It's me, Xuanfeng Blizzard Wolfe, the master of Fontainebleau. You're Basten, right? Name your duel participants." At this moment, I couldn't help but sigh. We already knew most of the information about the humans, while they had no idea what they were facing. This gives us a significant advantage in knowing our enemy.

Basten was somewhat surprised because he saw a tall, sturdy minotaur, a young werewolf, and a beautiful human girl standing in the front row. While he couldn't clearly identify Catherine's race, compared to Chief Bloodhoof, who wore the ancient Starhorn battle robe with gold gemstone rings on his horns, I, wearing only a simple leather armor, seemed insignificant. Moreover, the Minos warriors displayed formidable combat power during yesterday's battle on the city walls, leading Basten to naturally assume the minotaur was the castle's lord.

However, now wasn't the time for him to ask such questions, so he turned to a muscular man behind him and introduced, "This is Howl, a Sword Grandmaster from the Valhalla clan of the Northern Ice Plains. He will be our first warrior."

Northern Ice Plains? Valhalla? All the orcs, both on the city walls and below, drew a sharp breath. Weren't those the ice plains barbarians that our Snow Wolf Tribe had been guarding against for years? These nine-foot-tall creatures, resembling humans, are descendants of the ancient "Frost Giants." Though they lack their ancestors' terrifying strength to challenge dragons, they still inherit a physique comparable to the bear or lion tribes of the orcs, combined with a natural resistance to cold and a fierce love for battle. For thousands of years, they have been in constant conflict with the orcs. It was rumored that humans provided aid to the ice plains barbarians to contain the Orc Alliance's forces, but we never expected to see a barbarian join a human army.

Catherine and I looked at each other and said simultaneously, "I'll go."

Suddenly, a large hand appeared in front of us. Chief Bloodhoof stepped forward, patted my shoulder, and laughed, "Little white wolf, just watch me."

Then, the Minos chief strode forward and shouted, "Chief Bloodhoof Minos, entering the first duel. Come over here, little guy!"

Watching Bloodhoof walk confidently towards his opponent, I touched the spot on my shoulder where he had patted me. This old bull had been hiding his true strength. From that brief touch, I could confirm that his "Moon Flame Aura" had reached at least level eight, possibly higher. Although the ice plains barbarians are not weaker than orc experts of the same level and are even stronger than most other races, they still fall short compared to the Minos warriors. As long as the old bull's aura cultivation isn't inferior, he won't lose.

The barbarian Sword Grandmaster also strode forward, naked from the waist up, wearing unknown fur pants and barefoot, with unkempt hair and beard. His weapon was a gray single-bladed great axe with an eight-foot-long handle. On both sides of the axe blade were two protruding skull faces, and the entire axe was enveloped in icy gray mist, occasionally forming twisted faces that silently wailed.

"Legendary weapon, Ancestor's Ice Soul Battle Axe," the barbarian shouted in broken Common.

"My weapon is also a legendary weapon, the Battle Axe—Eye of Hell." Bloodhoof also drew a two-foot-long single-handed battle axe from under his robe. This axe was crimson red, composed of seven differently sized axe blades arranged in a wheel, with a dark red gem embedded in the center. The axe constantly emitted fiery light mixed with black smoke.