World-Ending Demon Emperor
Chapter 1105 - 498: Battlefield! Lanling Performance Time!_3

Chapter 1105: 498: Battlefield! Lanling Performance Time!_3

She said it in such a naïve and carefree tone that Du Yan couldn’t bring himself to blame her, and instead he poured all his anger and disdain onto Lanling.

Suo Mo stepped forward and coldly said, "Chieftains, is your ability only in your words? How about someone step forward and give me a good workout?"

As soon as those words left his mouth, the entire room fell silent, except for the chilling glances exchanged.

Spar with Suo Mo?

Come on now, no one’s insane!

Who doesn’t know how formidable Suo Mo’s martial skills are? In the entire Chimera Tribe, probably only the Chieftain can match him.

Suo Mo said coldly, "Chief, since I’ve brought Lanling to the battlefield, I naturally have my reasons. He’s absolutely not as weak and powerless as he appears to be. Whether he’s a dragon or a worm will be clear once he’s on the battlefield; let his performance speak for itself. For now, I kindly ask the chieftains to keep quiet. And if anyone still tries to humiliate my nephew with words, I won’t mind correcting their mistakes with my fists!"

That’s just how Suo Mo is.

When someone insults or attacks him, he might not take it seriously.

But if someone insults his people, he’ll immediately step forward to silence them. If words won’t suffice, he’ll silence them with force.

This is precisely what Constantine dislikes about him—disregarding the chieftain’s authority entirely.

Yet, Suo Mo’s martial skills are undeniably unmatched; it’s fair to say he has virtually no equal within the Chimera Tribe.

"Suo Mo, old friend, so you want me to give your nephew a chance to prove himself on the battlefield, is that right?" Chief Constantine said coldly.

"Correct," Suo Mo replied.

Lanling sighed deeply, murmuring in his heart, "Walked into their trap!"

Constantine’s plan was to use reverse psychology, then kill Lanling justifiably on the battlefield, eliminating competition for Du Yan.

His schemes are one after another, impossible to guard against.

"Rest assured, I will make sure he gets his chance," Constantine said with a smile.

Then he stood up and said, "Alright, it’s late. Everyone, rest and prepare for battle!"

...

The next morning, the two armies faced each other!

The chieftains of the two warring tribes each mounted their warhorses and began galloping towards one another.

The soldiers of both armies kept their gazes fixed tightly on their respective chieftains.

When the two chieftains were around a hundred meters apart, they suddenly slowed down.

Then, the Chief of the Wild Horse Tribe, Duoduo, laughed loudly, "Lord Constantine, are you planning to spill big blood first or little blood?"

"Big blood" meant initiating a full-on battle.

"Little blood" referred to engaging in a personal duel before the battle.

Or rather, it wasn’t a duel in the traditional sense, but a fight to the death! Such duels served as preludes to grand battles, much like the ancient Chinese battlefield practice of single combat—a way to ignite the soldiers’ fighting spirit and boost morale.

The difference was that single combat allowed for retreat, while here, there was no escape—victory or death.

"Spill little blood first; let the brothers feast, haha..." Constantine said.

By "feast," he truly meant a feast.

The loser in the duel would have their corpse turned into a trophy, dismembered, and cooked into a meat broth.

The Chief of the Wild Horse Tribe, Duoduo, laughed and said, "Then I’ll go ahead and pick someone first!"

He covered his eyes with cloth, notched an arrow on his bow, and shot it high into the air above his army.

Yes, he shot it skyward, and the arrow had no point.

"Whoosh..." The arrow traced a parabolic arc in the sky before falling amid the troops of the Wild Horse Tribe.

Wherever the arrow landed, that person would step forward for the duel. The loser would die, and the winner would earn combat merit equivalent to ten kills.

"The arrow has landed—step forward for the duel!" Duoduo shouted.

Immediately, a dark, wiry man stepped forward.

His gaze carried a chilling coldness, and he wielded twin blades, his hooked nose appearing as sharp as a talon.

Though wiry, every inch of his muscles looked like they were cast from copper and iron.

At first glance, he didn’t seem much different from a human—except he had a tail and nothing else unusual.

But simultaneously, he differed greatly from a human, with a face so angular it looked as though it were carved from stone.

Upon closer inspection of his skin, it was covered in tiny dotted patterns. These weren’t blemishes—they were metals.

Metal embedded in his skin!

Seeing this man, everyone’s faces changed drastically as they gasped, "A Berserker—it’s a Berserker!"

The Wild Horse Tribe’s trump card: the Berserkers!

They possessed a unique bloodline and physique. After reaching adulthood, they underwent trials of rolling over scalding iron filings—those who survived became Berserkers.

When the iron cooled, it fused to their skin like scales.

Thus, they could be called impervious to blades and spears.

Berserkers were extraordinarily rare, numbering only about a hundred. They were exclusively entrusted with the chieftain’s protection.

The Berserker present bore a white star-shaped tattoo on his forehead!

This indicated that this Berserker had reached the rank of Demon Warrior!

A Demon Warrior Berserker’s combat power was incredibly formidable—they were nearly impervious to blades and spears!

So, even those whose martial skills were two to three levels higher would avoid provoking a Berserker.

No one had expected the Wild Horse Tribe chief to select a Demon Warrior-level Berserker for the very first pre-battle duel.

Adding to this, a Shaman put a helmet on the Berserker.

The Chief of the Wild Horse Tribe laughed and said, "Lord Constantine, it’s your turn to pick."

Constantine wrapped his eyes with cloth and shot an arrow into the air above the Chimera Tribe’s army.

Lanling noticed that not far behind him stood Du Yan!

He knew in his heart that Constantine’s arrow would undoubtedly land right near him.

Constantine was determined to allow Du Yan to inherit the Foreign Tribe Army—this was his uncompromising will.

However, Suo Mo wanted Lanling to inherit the army, which directly opposed Constantine’s will, so Constantine aimed to kill Lanling justifiably on the battlefield.

The previous night’s provocation of Suo Mo was merely groundwork.

Today, he wanted Lanling dead, showing Constantine’s lack of patience.

Such actions might seem irrational; killing Lanling would undoubtedly provoke Suo Mo, potentially altering the outcome of the battle. Isn’t this making a mountain out of a molehill?

Constantine wasn’t reckless like this—there must be deeper schemes underlying his confrontation with the Wild Horse Tribe.

"Whoosh..."

The arrow with no point traced an arc through the air before... landing right at Lanling’s feet.

As expected—no surprises!

Du Yan’s face twisted into a cruel grin, while the cavalry soldiers of the Foreign Tribe Army turned pale.

Though they didn’t trust or admire Lanling, they definitely didn’t want him to die.

Lanling’s direct superior, Centurion Leitong, clenched his face and stepped forward. Leaning close to Lanling, he whispered, "My life was saved by Lord Suo Mo, and today I’ll repay it. Remember, don’t tarnish Lord Suo Mo’s reputation. Don’t disgrace the Foreign Tribe Army."

Then, he began to step out, intending to fight in Lanling’s place.

Even though the likely outcome was death!

Leitong was also a Demon Warrior, but the opponent was a Demon Warrior-level Berserker, nearly impervious to blades and spears. His death would be almost guaranteed.

Though Leitong didn’t like Lanling, he was willing to sacrifice himself to repay Suo Mo’s kindness.

Lanling stopped him and said, "No need. If it’s mine, I’ll take it."

Then, he stepped out of the crowd and stood before everyone!

Seeing Lanling, the pale-faced pretty boy, step forward to fight, there was an uproar!

He bore no star tattoo on his forehead, nor any star emblem on his armor—proof positive that he wasn’t a Demon Warrior.

The Foreign Tribe Army’s hearts sank!

Lord Suo Mo’s nephew was going to die a horrible death!

He had merely undergone weight training; he had never practiced with blades or fought in actual combat.

His opponent, however, was a Demon Warrior-level Berserker. A hundred Lanlings wouldn’t stand a chance!

Suo Mo’s eyes turned red, and tears welled up as he knelt and screamed, "Chieftain, please revoke this decision! I’ll give up whatever it takes!"

His meaning was clear: to save Lanling’s life, he was even willing in that moment to declare Du Yan the rightful successor to the Foreign Tribe Army.

But Chief Constantine coldly replied, "This is a sacred battle duel—whoever is chosen is determined by the will of the Divine Demon and cannot be altered!"

Suo Mo felt his entire body go ice-cold, his limbs numb.

Lanling smiled at him and then strode towards the center of the battlefield, heading directly for his opponent, the Demon Warrior Berserker.

At this moment, the entire battlefield was his stage.

No one anticipated that Lanling’s moment had arrived so soon!

...

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