Chapter 190 The Commander and the Blizzard Warriors

Shaoke’s threat enraged the Seventh-Tier Mage, who immediately intensified his mental suppression. This forced Shaoke to concentrate entirely on resisting the opponent’s pressure, leaving him no strength to retort. The Seventh-Tier Mage then repeated his earlier demand and signaled the several warriors—who had arrived moments earlier—to seize the two female mages.

“Do you truly believe the military won’t intervene in such matters?” A thunderous voice boomed from the crowd as a burly man in full military uniform, gripping a massive saber, strode forward and positioned himself beside Shaoke. “Drop your mental suppression—now—or I’ll sever your head,” the bald officer declared, brandishing his saber. The shrieking wind it generated ripped through the expensive carpet beneath, gouging a deep gash into the solid ironwood floorboards.

A Seventh-Tier Warrior. Instantly gauging the officer’s strength through mental perception, the mage silently signaled his warriors to halt their advance. “I believe this matter concerns neither the military nor you,” the Seventh-Tier Mage stated, subtly rotating his staff and preparing for potential combat—he knew all too well how military warriors operated.

“Why not?” The bald officer chuckled coldly, pointing at Mage Roman, who lay slumped in the arms of the Fifth-Tier female mage. “She’s my wife’s close friend. Isn’t that reason enough?” He then pointed at the warrior who had just been injured. “You have a choice: lose your limbs—or become a street mop.”

The warrior indicated by the bald officer instinctively stepped back, unable to withstand the officer’s palpable killing intent. Noting the retreat, the officer curled his lips in clear disdain.

“I will kill him.” Catching his breath, Shaoke glared fiercely at the mage before locking his gaze onto the warrior. A rapid torrent of incantations spilled from his lips, and a complex spell matrix materialized in midair, fueled by a surge of mental energy. The speed with which Shaoke prepared the Rending Ray spell startled the Seventh-Tier Mage—yet he immediately began casting his own counter-spell, willing to expend several times the normal energy to intercept Shaoke’s assault. However, the bald officer’s saber moved faster, disrupting the mage’s spell before completion. The shattered spell structure detonated prematurely. Though its power was drastically diminished, the explosion still startled the onlookers who had been steadily closing in.

Fortunately, Shaoke’s defensive spells remained active, and the Seventh-Tier Mage had likewise activated his own protections—so no one was injured this time. Yet the warrior targeted by Shaoke failed to block the attack. At peak power, the Rending Ray pierced effortlessly through his aura, tore straight through his body, and struck a maid behind him before its energy finally dissipated.

“You are courting death!” The Seventh-Tier Mage roared in fury at the unfolding scene. To witness a subordinate warrior slain right before his eyes left him deeply humiliated.

“You’re the one courting death.” Sensing the mage preparing another spell, the bald, burly officer abruptly swung his saber toward him. A pale-red aura enveloped the blade, cleaving effortlessly through the mage’s hastily conjured Fourth-Level Spell—and continuing its path toward the mage’s head.

Blink—a life-saving spell among the most potent available to Seventh-Tier Mages. Consuming energy equivalent to three single-target Seventh-Level Spells, the mage instantly activated it. A flash of white light enveloped him just before the saber struck, and his figure reappeared elsewhere in the hall.

From his new position, the mage launched no attack—instead standing motionless, glaring hatefully at the officer. He feared battle here would cause catastrophic damage to the tavern and endanger surrounding patrons; clashes between high-rank warriors and mages were beyond ordinary people’s endurance. Moreover, several nobles present possessed no defensive capabilities whatsoever.

Seeing the bald officer pause his assault, Shaoke quickly stepped forward to express his gratitude. The officer shook his head—indicating it was unnecessary. His aura, however, remained locked firmly onto the Seventh-Tier Mage. The increased distance now granted the mage ample time to prepare a high-power, single-target spell—one the officer might not survive, provided the mage dared cast it here.

The standoff did not last long before a new development occurred. Gazing at the still-composed middle-aged man, Shaoke felt intense irritation. After confirming from the Fifth-Tier female mage that Mage Roman faced no immediate life-threatening danger, Shaoke finally relaxed.

Rhythmic thudding footsteps echoed up from downstairs. Spectators were roughly shoved aside—including nobles and wealthy merchants. Yet confronted with gleaming weapons, the nobles wisely retreated, clearing wide space for the newcomers, whose demeanor conveyed anything but friendliness.

Nearly one hundred warriors clad in white armor surged upstairs. Patrons were swiftly herded toward the center of the hall. Though some nobles attempted to protest the warriors’ forceful conduct, they quickly backed down under icy stares and razor-sharp sabers.

These white-armored warriors appeared exceptionally formidable—each towering over three meters tall. The sight reminded Shaoke of Iron Tower, the deputy team leader he’d once served alongside in the Misty Forest. But he dismissed the thought—the arrival of these warriors had already dramatically shifted the battlefield’s balance.

Those aligned with the tavern—who had held the upper hand—were now surrounded by nearly one hundred warriors, the Seventh-Tier Mage included. This time, however, the mage offered no resistance. He had recognized their identity: Blizzard Warriors drawn from various subordinate legions of the Blizzard Legion. Though possessing only Sixth-Rank auras, they feared no foe.

Over a decade ago, during minor unrest in the imperial capital, Blizzard Warriors of the Blizzard Legion had ruthlessly slaughtered over one hundred Seventh-Tier Mages. Under the command of a frenzied leader, they had even stormed and purged the residences of three dukes. At that time, aside from a handful of Eighth-Tier Mages who narrowly escaped their encirclement, even a duke wielding Eighth-Tier aura had been brutally beheaded by these fanatical warriors. Nor were the slain Eighth-Tier Warriors limited to that single duke. Of course, the Blizzard Warriors themselves had suffered heavy losses—otherwise, Shaoke suspected there might be hundreds of them here today.

“I believe we can discuss this matter in detail,” the Seventh-Tier Mage said grimly, staring at the bald officer. He hadn’t anticipated the officer belonged to the Blizzard Legion of the military—a realization that filled him with regret. The Blizzard Legion was infamous for its irrationality, having even inflicted major setbacks upon the royal Blue Feather Legion.

“No explanation is necessary from you.” A gaunt young man in military uniform emerged from behind the towering warriors. His appearance was repulsive: sparse yellow hair, green triangular eyes, a sunken nose, a lopsided, drooling mouth, elf-like ears, hollow cheeks with little flesh, short stature, and an awkward posture—all rendering the handsome uniform utterly incongruous. Unfazed by the crowd’s strange looks, the young officer rapidly assessed the situation. Upon seeing Mage Roman cradled in the arms of the Fifth-Tier female mage, his already unpleasant features twisted into a grotesque snarl.

“Smash it—smash everything here, top to bottom!” He then fixed a furious glare on the Seventh-Tier Mage. “Damn it! One of the few alchemists in our Blizzard 33rd Corps reduced to this state by you? Damn it! She was about to undergo her advancement ritual! Damn it!” As he spoke, the leering young officer drew a pale-blue short sword, raised it—and was about to order the warriors to begin slaughtering, when the bald officer intervened.

“Yisuoeze—Mage Roman needs treatment *now*. This is not the time to vent your anger here.” With that, the bald officer moved to take Female Mage Roman and depart—but Shaoke stopped him. Dispelling his defensive spells, Shaoke personally lifted Mage Roman and followed the officer downstairs.

“Smash this place!” The leering young officer repeated his command. Naturally, the Blizzard Warriors executed their superior’s order without hesitation. The potential consequences of this directive were irrelevant to them. Razor-sharp sabers easily shredded wall panels. Precious porcelain, fine wines, valuable paintings, and carpets were all destroyed. The Seventh-Tier Mage could only focus on evacuating patrons to prevent them from being killed.

The imperial capital’s events over a decade prior had not faded from the memories of nobles and merchants. They well understood the Blizzard Legion’s operational style—and hurried toward other exits. Their actions were also calculated to draw more patrons to witness tonight’s spectacle. This incident would undoubtedly dominate idle noble and merchant conversations for a long time to come—especially since no nobles or merchants had perished; the deaths of a few warriors meant nothing to them.

The frenzied destruction soon ended. The leering officer, watching for a while and finding it unsatisfying, halted his warriors’ rampage and instead headed toward the staircase where Shaoke and the bald officer had departed. He intended to grasp the full situation to facilitate a larger-scale retaliation—though such action would require approval from their Legion Commander.