Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

"In this way, most of the water sources have been treated, leaving only one in a remote village... Ye Liya and the others have already gone there, I don't know how it went."

"It'll be fine. Alka is there. He can pin a donkey to the ground with his bare hands, and he has so many cavalrymen with him. That girl is even wearing two layers of iron armor... To be honest, if I were to do it, I would just quit."

Karila, standing beside the well, gripped the pillar next to the well and, somewhat irritated, forcefully brushed back the strand of blonde hair that kept falling across her forehead. This mistake, made when she tied her hair up, combined with the occasional breeze today, made the strand of hair constantly itch on her forehead.

Just as she was considering whether to cut the hair off, Tarina, who couldn't bear to watch any longer, took over the task. She turned her around and, with her nimble fingers, quickly re-tied her hair, finally bringing all the loose strands together and neatly covering her head.

Karila displayed an unusual quietness and submissiveness throughout the process, causing Colin, who was on guard further away, to frequently turn his head to look at her, almost unable to believe that this was the same fierce and agile Imperial Champion... especially after fighting with him twice, she thought she knew this guy's character better than anyone else.

"Is it finished?"

The tall figure standing at the street corner turned around. Today, Tersolius was not wearing his armor or his magnificent black silk robe. Instead, he was dressed like a slightly wealthier citizen in a clean and well-fitting black short robe. His leather boots were also very simple, and the wrinkles and bends in them revealed a bit of age.

Apart from that, he only wore a short sword hanging from his waist with a leather belt... However, no matter how ordinary his attire was, his aura of being used to giving orders, holding a high position, and surviving countless battles was hard to conceal. No matter where he stood, it was always difficult for people not to notice him.

For this reason, his disguise had little effect whatsoever... but the large number of jailers and henchmen in the shadows of the surrounding streets ensured absolute safety while achieving his intended purpose.

The well problem must be solved by Tarina, but he wouldn't be foolish enough to expose his doctor to those with ill intentions, no matter how much preparation he makes, because he wouldn't tolerate even the slightest failure.

So, under his orders, the people responsible for solving the water problem were divided into two groups, one openly and one covertly. One group was openly and ostentatiously organized to deceive those with ill intentions who wanted to assassinate them. They were not only escorted by a large number of elite cavalry, but also deliberately started their operations when the crowds were dense. Yelia, who was similar in stature to Talina, was chosen to disguise herself as a doctor. Moreover, as Talina's deputy, this girl was quite familiar with the doctor's lifestyle and daily demeanor.

In addition, he specially brought in fine armor from the armory—all masterpieces of the imperial craftsmen. The chainmail's rings were so small that even a chopstick couldn't pass through them. They were tightly interlocked, and covered with a layer of fine, neat scale armor that even the army's heavy crossbows would find difficult to pierce with a single shot. He needed to bring out those hiding in the shadows, but he was still too stingy to allow his bait to be damaged in the process.

Meanwhile, the team secretly responsible for solving the water problem was actually this one. They staggered the locations and, with the help of secret escorts and henchmen, accelerated the resolution of the province's water problem while everyone's attention was drawn to the visible part. At the same time, they were ready to swiftly pursue and capture the other team if it was attacked.

Brazil's Saiyaros, the head of the Southern Headquarters, has already been dispatched to lead the elite of the Imperial Prison to wait for the right opportunity... Now it remains to be seen whether this cunning fish will take the bait.

He was tired of playing cat and mouse with these rats, outsmarting and outmaneuvering them. The other side always managed to conceal their true nature so cleverly, controlling every aspect of their organization through intrigue, parasitic toxins, and a tight organizational structure, able to cut their losses and survive at crucial moments... Of course, this was also partly because they had never truly captured any of the other side's key personnel so far.

Like catching fish in murky water, they gradually discerned each other's appearance, but could never truly grasp any crucial part of the fish to pull it out of the filth. Instead, the fish would always dart through the murky water, using cover to seize the opportunity to bite their ankles.

But this time he believed he would gain something extra, not only because he had made thorough preparations and deployed the elite troops of the entire south to the First Province, but also because the other side would inevitably send an important figure to coordinate such an important assassination operation... and this guy would become their opportunity to catch the other side by the tail.

The entire province of Hols I has now unknowingly become a den of dragons and tigers, a place the residents of those cities may never realize. They will never know what those seemingly casual passersby are up to, nor what skills those down-on-their-luck beggars huddled on the streets possess... He is like a hunter who has unleashed his hounds to set a trap, patiently waiting for news of his prey's appearance before setting out with his bow, arrows, and spear.

"Only one area remains, sir. If those people are going to make a move, this is our last chance... We should be able to find out the final result tonight."

Thesolius smiled and nodded, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the hilt of his sword. After a slight hesitation, he turned to look at the three men beside him who were awaiting his orders.

"Then there's no reason for us to stay here any longer. Let's find a more suitable place to wait."

"Uh... for example?"

Colin asked with some curiosity, his expression remaining perfectly calm. But those who knew him well would know that this girl had entered a state of calm yet murderous intent before a hunt, like hunting a brown bear in the mountains. People who cannot remain calm and composed often mess things up, and it's not impossible for them to even lose their lives.

"For example, a place that sells mutton soup also has excellent malt liquor."

Tersolius raised his eyebrows, turned around, and leaped into the front seat of the carriage in three quick steps. Then he turned back and patted the back seat.

"Get on the bus, ladies. We need to leave early to get there. I hope you're satisfied with today's driver, since this is my first time doing this too."

........................

Things were messed up. Completely messed up! ...

Patrick's heart sank to the bottom, but his feet moved swiftly through the jungle, deliberately plunging into the densest and most complex thickets.

The other two separated from him and retreated separately, also to reduce the target and increase the possibility of escape. If one of them was caught, the other two would not be implicated... However, such an escape would depend on each person's own abilities, and there would be no way to get help from their companions.

The moment he saw the crossbow bolt deflected, he knew things were over—the Imperials were clearly prepared, which was why they had their target wear heavy armor strong enough to withstand crossbow bolts. If they wanted to assassinate him at close range, they would have no chance of getting past the steel wall of elite armored soldiers, and the target would never leave the protection of those elite soldiers.

If there were only a few such guards, they would be confident of completing the mission. But if it were a well-coordinated and well-trained hundred-man squad, they would only cause damage to the enemy before crashing headlong into the tip of the halberd and dying... Although he had gained superhuman strength, he still could not withstand the most advanced violence of this era.

As for now, he was almost certain that the Imperials' henchmen had begun their pursuit, and those masked jailers would not let go of this opportunity to tear their flesh apart. A net had been cast over him, and now was the time to escape as quickly as possible, or he would be doomed.

Fortunately, to ensure everything went smoothly, he had already made an evacuation plan in advance—the three of them would evacuate in three different directions, hide in three pre-arranged hiding places, and after confirming their safety, they would meet at a pre-arranged location and then prepare for the next evacuation.

The sun shone on the jungle, and this place, which was originally quiet and peaceful, was now full of dangers. His nerves were on edge, and he dared not relax for a moment. Driven by the parasite, his feet helped him pass through the most rugged and difficult areas of the forest without stopping.

Even the most agile hunting dogs couldn't keep up with his speed, and even the most cunning foxes couldn't predict his movements, let alone a human. He ran like this for a long time until the sun began to set in the west with fiery red colors. Only then did he realize that he had escaped his pursuit. He slapped a tree trunk next to him and used the reaction force to stop himself.

The tendons in his legs and the black tentacles intertwined, providing him with powerful leg strength, but also making him extremely hot. All the key parts of his body were restless, clearly indicating that his desperate escape had greatly exhausted the parasite, which was now demanding more energy from him.

Without even glancing at the contents, he reached into the small leather pouch at his waist, pulled out a clear glass bottle containing a swirl of purple liquid, and was about to pull out the stopper—

Thud! —Smack!

A gust of wind swept by, and the bottle in his hand vanished in the blink of an eye. When he subconsciously looked up at the source of the sound, he froze.

A figure clad in black robes stood silently in the shadows of the forest. His face, masked in iron, wore a dangerous, enigmatic smile, reminiscent of a knife thrust from behind. His right hand gripped a curved blade with a beautiful arc and a bright, lustrous sheen like autumn water. His left hand held a terrifying whip.

The reason this whip is so terrifying is simply because of its grotesque appearance. He had never seen a whip with such a structure before—it was made of layers of four sharp blades stacked and extended, each part with a gleaming blade, precisely connected and interlocked with each other, with a core woven from cowhide in the middle, and a sharp tip at the end. One can imagine the terrible wounds this thing would cause when it lashed a human body, enough to easily peel flesh from bone.

The medicine bottle he had just held had now fallen into the other person's deerskin glove with sharp steel claws—it was snatched from his hand by the whip with unimaginable speed and force, and he didn't even see the afterimage in the process.

"You were decisive enough and evacuated quickly enough. If I hadn't made thorough preparations beforehand, you probably would have gotten away. If that had happened, my dereliction of duty would have been irreparable... Hmm, perhaps I should express some kind of gratitude to you for your subsequent efforts."

Brazilian Saiyaros twirled the bottle in his hand with great interest. The steel claws in his hand slowly scraped across the glass, making a sharp, piercing noise. Meanwhile, the sharp blade in his right hand casually cut at the large tree next to him, shaving off strips of bark in an extremely neat manner.

“A villain and a coward like you will never amount to anything in your life, but I must sincerely thank you for what you will bring me next… such as glory and achievements, which I crave now. Even if I had to settle for less, I could slowly peel you back to see what lies beneath…”

"Let me guess where the core of the parasite on your body is located... I believe it should be in the area slightly below the center of your chest, close to your heart."

Patrick's face was stiff, but his eyes had already narrowed slightly—he wasn't going to sit idly by and wait to die. Brazil's Seyalos, however, seemed extremely relaxed. He slightly moved his arm, causing the blade to spin with dazzling light and shadow, then released his grip on the whip blade with his left hand, letting the terrifying barbs and sharp edges scatter along the whip.

"Alright, now I have to take you back. Depending on the situation, you might lose some limbs or organs... Before that, try to struggle."

Chapter 402 Exposure (2)

Patrick inwardly scoffed at the enemy's foolishness. To use a whip, such an easily restricted weapon, in this dense jungle could easily get tangled in branches and trunks, creating a fatal opening for him.

But soon, his smile vanished... He was the pinnacle of the Holy Order's creation, agile and nimble, fierce and deadly, capable of severing a fly's wing or pinning a mosquito to a tree trunk with pinpoint accuracy... But now he had to retreat two steps in a sorry state, clutching his bloodied arm, his face grave.

The whip in the other man's hands was not like an inanimate object at all, but rather like a fierce and venomous snake. It skillfully avoided every cover in the jungle, as if it had its own life, and launched terrible bites at him. In one careless move, a large chunk of flesh was torn off his arm, exposing the bloody layer of fat and muscle fibers.

Even the parasite inside him was injured by this attack. A tentacle that had grown into his shoulder was hooked out and severed, wriggling and struggling between his fingers, with dark green blood splattering everywhere.

The wounds inflicted on him by the strange weapon in the opponent's hand were truly terrifying. A whole piece of flesh the size of a palm was viciously torn off, and blood flowed rapidly. Because the wound was so large, he could clearly feel the muscle spasms and the slickness of the blood with the five fingers he was using to cover his shoulder... He could even watch helplessly as the piece of flesh that had fallen into the grass was still slightly throbbing.

And this was just a slight graze. If his arm were properly entangled by the whip, one can easily imagine the horrific scene that would unfold, and any attempt to escape would come at a terrible cost.

Brazil's Saiyaros gently flicked his wrist, and the whip in his hand, made of stacked blades, began to tremble like a venomous snake, fluttering and unfolding in the air like a ribbon. The blades rubbed against each other, making a pleasant sound, just like an iron snake vibrating its scales, while the sharp tip at the end was like a slender snake tongue.

The next instant, with a flick of the wrist, the terrifying venomous snake shot toward his throat with lightning speed. All that could be seen was a flash of silver light in the air, followed by the crisp sound of the metal scales vibrating and the cold glint of the blade against his body. It was like a knife suddenly revealed in a casual conversation, catching him completely off guard.

A black bone blade extended from his wrist, its barbs helping him accurately capture the dangerous snake. Trying to control the flexible end, the steel and bone actually sparked dazzlingly. To his slightly surprised look, the sharp tip had already coiled around his wrist like a real, living snake—and if he had continued with his previous thought, he would have only had his hand neatly severed.

So he had to back away, dodging the snake's snapping teeth, and then he heard a mocking laugh coming from beneath the other man's iron mask:

"Try dancing."

"What!……"

A few flashes of silver light appeared, like the brightest stars in the night sky. The instant they appeared on his retina, a sharp pain shot through his neck. He subconsciously swung his bone blade, and with a clang, the blade that had been knocked away twisted and darted back in mid-air. In an instant, it transformed into several silver streaks in the air, hissing and tearing at him.

"...After all, you didn't have a choice, did you?"

Only then did Brazil's Saiyaros finish his sentence. He remained standing still, barely moving, with only his arms and wrists twitching with the whip, yet his prey was already exhausted and struggling to keep up.

He was almost mocking his prey, his blade whip flashing and ruthless, but always aimed at areas that weren't vital, slicing off pieces of flesh every now and then. Before long, the man in black opposite him was covered in blood, as if he had been rolled in a knife, and his movements became increasingly slow and sluggish.

Just as a hungry wolf always weakens its stronger prey, causing it to bleed and become sluggish and vulnerable before hunting it safely, the same applies to him. No matter how poorly his opponent performs, Brazil's Cesar Rodriguez has long since learned not to be complacent, and those taunting words also serve as a driving force in this process.

The whip seemed poised to tear at the throat, but in the instant the opponent hastily parried, it twisted and flew toward the chest, emitting a crisp laugh in the air. Its end curled up like a snake's tail, barely dodging the bone blade the opponent was trying to parry. It scraped against the hard bone, producing a grating sound, and then sliced ​​off a small piece of flesh from the fingertip.

The blade seemed poised to wrap around the ligaments of the knee, but as the opponent hurriedly lifted their foot, it slyly and cunningly stabbed upwards, shaking off the blood droplets on the blade, and finally sharply grazed the opponent's jaw, leaving a deep bloody mark.

The whip is never an easy thing to use, much less suitable as a weapon... But to him, it was as natural as an extension of his body, and he could take lives with ease... His superb skills honed over the years went far beyond those methods used to inflict pain on sinners.

And so, without even using the scimitar in his right hand, his opponent had already been slashed bloodily, becoming increasingly disheveled and unable to hold on, even having to roll on the ground and dodge among the trees to avoid... or more accurately, trying to use the complex branches and bushes to entangle his whip and block his attacks.

This did have some effect, forcing him to use his scimitar to cut through the overly dense bushes. At the same time, he pressed forward step by step to prevent his opponent from escaping, but always maintained a distance of two meters, using the length advantage of his long whip to suppress his opponent who was wielding a short blade.

...Speaking of which, can a sharp blade that grows from the wrist be used to deal with an opponent wielding a short sword?

He nodded silently, deciding to leave this interesting question for later consideration. Then, he silently increased the movement of his wrist, making the rustling blade scales in the air even more dangerous and unpredictable, like a tireless serpent.

...This prey possessed extraordinary stamina, even exceeding his most exaggerated expectations—after all, he only needed to swing his wrist to make the whip move, while the other had to jump around like a monkey, expending its strength intensely every second. If it were a strong ordinary person, they would probably have collapsed to the ground by now, and even if he whipped them hard, they wouldn't be able to get up.

Every time he retracted his whip blade after an attack, his opponent would relentlessly try to close in and take advantage of his close-range weapon, but he would always be forced back by the blade scales that suddenly shot out. Although his movements were slowed by the pain, he never seemed tired and was still ambitiously trying to turn the tide.

This ambition is quite positive and necessary. After all, in such a fierce confrontation, if one has already decided that one is doomed to defeat, then there is really no possibility of victory, especially in such complex terrain where anything can happen.

However, just like many things have two sides, this kind of ambitious drive also means more flaws, such as what we see now—

The whistling blades cunningly and deliberately grazed the other person's side, tearing through their clothes and drawing out pieces of flesh and blood. Finally, they even began to gnaw at the bone with a crunching sound, and this terrible wound inevitably brought unbearable pain... for a normal person.

He calmly used his scimitar to parry the downward thrust of the bone blade, then deflected the blade, pressed down and thrust forward, using the long tip of the scimitar to pierce the opponent's throat. In the blink of an eye, he made the most direct, decisive and effective response—if the opponent had been even slightly slower to dodge, he would have been pierced through the throat.

His prey neither dodged nor avoided him, which made him widen his eyes and realize something, but it was still a few minutes too late.

Patrick's throat suddenly swelled, then wriggled forward, and in an instant, a sticky, tubular object emerged from his mouth. A whitish-green acidic liquid gushed out, spraying straight at Brazil's face!

The thrusting scimitar changed its move in an instant, deftly circling and twisting along the opponent's arm, shifting to the left. In a flash, the sharp blade cut deep into the flesh, leaving a mark on the hard bone, and the spurting blood stained a large patch of wild grass around it.

The two stepped back. Brazil's Saiyarlos silently lowered his head, covering his face with his hands. Patrick, on the other hand, bent over in pain, curling up and awkwardly covering the horrific, hand-length, gaping wound on his side.

After a long time, a sheet of iron was slowly removed. The liquid on it was still trying its best to corrode the metal, producing dense white-green foam and a layer of fragile green rust.

"Ah...you almost succeeded."

The face beneath the mask bore only burn marks below the eyebrows, which were spreading and threatening to reach the eyeballs. He casually wiped them away with his sleeve, revealing the bloody flesh beneath the skin.

"...What exactly are you?!"

Patrick gritted his teeth. Even with his physique, the blow he had just received was hard to ignore. It had almost ripped open his side ribs, exposing his internal organs. Blood was flowing out uncontrollably, and the parasite inside him was becoming agitated due to the intense exertion, even refusing to mend his wounds and slow the bleeding.

But what truly shocked and terrified him was the guy opposite him... He had never seen an ordinary person so fast that he could completely immobilize him. He had never seen anyone wield such a strange weapon as a whip with such ease that his carefully prepared killing move was rendered useless, and he was almost sliced ​​in two by the opponent.

Finally, he wiped the dangerous acid off the iron face with his sleeve, then tore off a piece of his sleeve and threw it into the nearby bushes. Brazil Saiyaros put the iron face back on and calmly wiped the blood from his scimitar onto a nearby tree trunk.

"You are just one of the defenders of this great nation, nothing more. We will purge all rebels, traitors, and sinners from the Empire. You may think you are special and unique... but that's laughable. You are not the most difficult one I've ever encountered... nor the most cunning and treacherous, but you are certainly the most troublesome."

"What's the meaning?……!"

Patrick's expression changed, and then he found that he had suddenly lost sensation in his legs, and the numbness was spreading rapidly. The parasite inside his body was writhing violently, as if it had encountered something terrible and was urging him to escape immediately.

But he was powerless. After letting out a final, surprised sigh, he collapsed to the ground as if he had no bones. The terrifying, almost unbearable numbness that made him stop breathing completely overwhelmed him.

“My knife and whip are coated with a special drug that can knock out even the strongest man in a few breaths, yet you’ve been jumping around like this until now… To be honest, I’m quite curious about your body’s structure now, and perhaps I’ll have the chance to participate in it later.”

The bushes nearby rustled slightly, and then a copper-masked jailer in a black robe emerged from them. After bowing to Brazil Sairos, he found a rope and tightly bound the immobile prey on the ground.

"Moreover, I had already arranged for people to be around you. You are a fish that has run into a fishing net, but you still hope to escape by biting through a rope. Little do you know that the net has already been pulled out of the water and thrown onto the boat... You had no way to escape from the very beginning."

The other party had long since stopped answering him, and Brazil's Cearáros seemed finally satisfied, now busy tearing off the pieces of clothing corroded by the acid to make sure they didn't get on his skin.