The Lord of the Rings: Lords of Middle-earth.

"Watch out! Keep your voice down!" Okan crouched low, carrying a sword, shield, and bow, and stealthily made his way towards the charioteers' camp.

"Tsk! These people are elite! A small unit of eighteen men has managed to run a temporary camp so well!" A light cavalryman exclaimed. As scouts, they could tell the strength and weakness of a camp at a glance.

"Tough nut to crack! Not easy to bite!" another person set the tone.

"We have to bite through it no matter how tough it is! Either we die here today, or they die here today!" The last light cavalryman reluctantly drew his bow and arrow.

"Can you still draw your bows?" A light cavalryman looked at Okan and another man with a pained expression.

“They have sentries…we can’t get past them without shooting them!” Okan said bitterly. So what if drawing the bow would tear flesh apart? They were soldiers, killing machines, not women enjoying romantic evenings.

The camp in front of us was a typical charioteer camp. Ten chariots and ten warhorses were arranged in a circle, and the charioteers were resting inside. Judging from the firelight, there were at least three campfires burning inside, and there was a faint smell of roasting meat in the air, indicating that these people had eaten a hearty meal and were now asleep...

"Two sentries!" a cavalryman said, having circled around and quietly returned.

"Just the two of you on night watch? You look down on us?" Okan was taken aback.

"Alright, Captain, what's with the disdain... One-ninth of the manpower is enough for night duty. They probably didn't expect us to launch a night raid." One of them shook his head and laughed.

"That's right! Today I'll show you some real audacity!" Okan said spiritedly, his voice low but brimming with excitement.

"Forget it! A mere corporal is no general!" the others teased, winking at each other. After all, according to custom, to call oneself a general, one must at least be a centurion, and a fully-fledged centurion at that. If one also had a noble title, that would be even more perfect.

"Go away! Can't I even think about it?" Okan waved his hand.

"Alright! Let's get to work!" Okan glanced at the sky and his smile faded.

The moon was high in the night sky, and its bright light shone on the earth, covering it in a silvery coat.

……

"Two men per group! Shoot the sentries!" Okan coldly waved his hand at the two "kowtowing men" sitting in the car.

"Crunch~" The sound of the bowstring made one's teeth ache in the silent night, and everyone, their faces flushed, fearlessly drew back the bowstring despite the pain.

"Buzz!"

With a swift movement, arrows fell! The two dozing sentries instantly collapsed onto the chariot. The four men rushed forward, drew their one-handed swords, and nimbly climbed onto the chariot, using their iron-plated shields as shields. They then grabbed a handful of dirt and pressed it onto the wounds of the two corpses.

They were lucky; they successfully made their way up. The tankers, exhausted from the day's work, lost their vigilance at night while resting, and the irresponsible sentries gave Okan and his men an opportunity. Most importantly, they lost their sensitivity to the smell of blood! When the mud covered the bloodstains, even those most likely to wake up fell into a deep sleep again.

"Hmm!" The group exchanged glances and quietly climbed off the chariot.

Okan took the water pouch from his waist and distributed it to everyone. They quickly extinguished the fire, and a chill instantly rose up. But this had its advantages; the firelight would not expose Okan and his men who had sneaked in. Only the bright moonlight exuded boundless killing intent!
"Thud!" The sound of a sharp blade slicing through a throat rang out. After a series of groans, Okan lowered his hand from the chariot soldier's throat. The warriors, helpless during the day, were now like lambs to the slaughter under the cover of night, at the mercy of Okan and his men. Okan quickly covered the blood with some dirt, then abandoned the act. The stench of blood from the four men with their throats slit already filled the air.

"Swoosh!" Okan had no choice but to speed up, slicing another professional's neck according to his memory. The professional whose neck had been cut open wasn't dead yet; he suddenly opened his eyes, trying to scream, but the severed trachea and the large hand covering his mouth made even the slightest sound impossible... In despair, he planned to use his battle aura to self-destruct, whether as a warning or to take everyone down with him. But his weak body and increasingly heavy head made even detonating his own battle aura a futile effort.

"That was close!" Okan thought to himself. Luckily, they had practiced the contingency plan in advance, otherwise there would have been a real problem.

He laid down the still-warm body of the tank militiaman and continued searching for the next person...

This night was destined to be a bloody one; even seasoned professionals, lethargic and unsuspecting, could be easily slaughtered by ordinary soldiers! The slaughter continued...

"Pfft!" Okan skillfully covered the man's mouth and then pressed down with his wrist, causing warm blood to splatter out. Once the man in his hand stopped struggling, Okan slowly put him down.

“The fifth one!” Okan thought to himself.

"Boom!" The battle aura flames that shot into the sky suddenly erupted, and the blue battle aura flame shockwave swept across the area.

Okan clearly saw one of his light cavalrymen being torn to pieces in the flames of battle!
"No!" Okan roared in despair.

"You deserve to die!" A cold voice rang out, and a young woman emerged from the tattered tent. She wore leather armor adorned with totems and held a curved sword upside down in her hand. Her chest trembled violently with rage, and a long, scathing wound running almost from left to right across her abdomen still oozed blood! What had she seen? The camp, which had been perfectly fine just moments before, was now a scene of carnage, with not a single survivor except for her.

"What's going on!" Okan stood shoulder to shoulder with the remaining two, shield in hand.

“Tsk! Kalojesky alerted her when he was preparing to kill this bitch!” said one of the cavalrymen.

"Tier 3! We can't beat them! We have to run!" Okan said calmly.

"No! She killed our men! And she was wounded! We have to kill her to avenge our brothers!" a cavalryman roared angrily.

"How dare you? You ants!" The female warrior brandished her scimitar, and a blade of light suddenly slashed diagonally across.

"Run!" Okan kicked his comrade-in-arms away, sending him tumbling into the air. The three of them narrowly avoided the deadly attack.

After that blow, the remaining two men came to their senses. They did want to avenge their comrade, but they weren't about to do something that would lead to their deaths.

"Mount up! Lob her!" one of them roared.

If a wounded Tier 3 warrior is truly kited by three skilled mounted archers, there's really no way she'll survive, unless she can instantly kill them with a burst skill.

"Boom!" The woman had already chased after them. She wrapped her fist in battle aura and smashed it through the frame of the chariot on the horse's back. Then she mounted the horse, quickly covered the wound with hemostatic powder, and chased after the three people.

It's past midnight.