Subtle Command

“Stop right there!” Colton suddenly shouted and stopped Mulder just as he was about to pass through the

checkpoint.

In an instant, everyone tensed up. Mulder’s hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his blade, and Warrick

clenched his fists, ready for a fight.

“Mr. Dane, is there a problem?” Mulder turned, smiling calmly.

“Are these men your soldiers?” Colton’s gaze swept over the men, scanning each one from the front to the back.

“Of course. | trained them myself.” Mulder nodded, the easy smile still plastered on his face.

“Showtheir ID badges. | need to check them one by one.”

“Is that really necessary? I'm in a bit of a hurry to carry out my mission.”

“I'm just doing my duty, and I'd appreciate your cooperation,” Colton replied, his gaze unwavering.

“Mr. Dane, it’s not like we just met. Do you still not trust me?” Mulder’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Besides, | have

Mr. Cruz's signed authorization right here. Even if you won't doa favor, surely you wouldn't disrespect him,

right?”

Colton frowned and looked hesitant. He didn’t mind offending Mulder, but crossing Axel could spell trouble for his

career. Still, if he didn’t check carefully and something went wrong, he'd be the one held accountable.

After a few moments of deliberation, Colton stood his ground. “Rules are rules. Please showthe ID badges.”

Mulder’s smile slowly faded. “Since you insist, | guess we have no choice but to comply.”

He turned to the dozen or so men behind him and gave them a subtle nod. “Show your IDs to Mr. Dane.”

The men remained silent as they pulled out their badges.

Colton stepped past Mulder and began inspecting their badges, starting from the front. The first ten men

checked out without issue. But when he reached the last man, the other party stood with nothing in his hand.

“Hmm? Where's your badge?” Colton frowned.

The man at the end of the line was unusually large, and his towering frmade him impossible to miss. His

face, partially hidden by a thick beard, carried a rugged and intimidating appearance.

As Colton stepped closer, he caught a faint scent of blood on the man.

“I didn’t bring it,” the man muttered.

“You didn’t bring it?”

Colton slowly raised his head. In the dim moonlight, he suddenly realized the man’s face looked familiar-like he

had seen him somewhere before. But with his head lowered and his high collar hiding half his face, it was hard to

be sure.

“Look up!” Colton ordered, now on high alert. His hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his sword.

“So, you saw through it after all.”

The man slowly raised his head, revealing his face.

It was none other than Warrick.

“You...”

Colton’s expression changed drastically. Just as he was about to draw his sword, Warrick struck-his hand pierced

straight through Colton’s chest and ripped out a bloody heart.

Colton’s body jerked; his face froze in terror.

“I told you to let us through, but you just had to get in the way,” Warrick snarled with a wicked grin. “You're

getting paid peanuts for this job. Why risk your life over it?”

With a flick of his wrist, he hurled Colton’s body more than ten yards away. The lifeless body skidded across the

ground, leaving a long, dark smear of blood in its wake.

For a brief moment, the checkpoint guards stood frozen as they struggled to process what had just happened.

They were stunned by the sight. None of them had expected a member of the City Defenders to suddenly attack

and kill someone at the slightest disagreement.

“Attack!”

Mulder was already prepared. Without hesitation, he drew his blade and charged into the crowd.

The dozen or so skilled men behind him didn’t hesitate and drew their weapons as they joined the slaughter.

“Enemy incoming! We're under attack!”

The checkpoint guards finally snapped out of their daze. They drew their weapons and clashed with Mulder and

his men.

At the stime, a piercing horn cut through the night air and echoed across half the inner city. It was the signal

that they were under attack.

Once the horn sounded, it meant they had encountered a strong enemy. All nearby patrols, including the guards,

were required to rush in for backup right away.

“You must have a death wish.”

Warrick appeared in a flash before the guard who had sounded the horn and slammed a fist into his chest.

The guard’s body exploded like a watermelon hit by a cannonball. Blood and flesh rained down, scattering across

the ground along with the shattered remains of the horn.

Though the horn had been silenced, the commotion had already caused a stir. Soldiers began pouring toward the

checkpoint from all directions.

Warrick didn’t care. His fists struck like hammers as he charged into the crowd and started his massacre. Ever

since he beca fugitive, he had been bottling up his rage, and now he was finally letting loose.

As a powerhouse halfway to becoming an ultimate grandmaster, Warrick was in a league of his own. Dealing with

ordinary soldiers was like slicing through melons-one punch, one kill. In just two minutes, more than half of the

hundred guards lay dead or dying.

“Sir Prescott, it’s not safe to linger. We need to retreat now.”

Mulder saw the tide turning and quickly grabbed Warrick’s arm to stop his rampage.

While the hundred or so guards were not a threat, the endless stream of reinforcements was another matter. If

they got surrounded, escaping would becnearly impossible.

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