"So noble a dragon and phoenix race… why would they appear in this border city?"
The Mercenary Commander's face had turned deathly pale.
All the arrogance he had shown just moments ago was gone without a trace.
He watched his men scream and scatter beneath the assault of blazing fire and freezing frost. Fear gripped his heart.
At that moment, only one thought remained in his mind:
Run!
He no longer cared about regrouping his forces.
Spurring his horse around, the Mercenary Commander prepared to flee at once.
However—
In the very next instant, the warhorse beneath him let out a pitiful cry and collapsed to the ground with a crash.
The Mercenary Commander scrambled to his feet and looked up, only to see a figure standing beside the horse's corpse, gazing at him coldly.
"You!"
The Mercenary Commander's lips trembled.
The newcomer was none other than John—the very man he had mocked earlier.
John pulled his dagger from the dead horse's body.
