“Again, three flags.”

Atop a small hill, serpentine paths twisted and yellow sand rolled back upon itself.

Eighteen riders from Yan Cloud galloped forth, swooping in close, then splitting to either side to guard Chronicle as he burst forth from their midst.

As the beast of the year lay prostrate, scouts clad in rusted armor and short swords at their waists jogged out from the sandy ground, flipping three small flags into their hands and presenting them to Chronicle.

“A total of eight flags, still somewhat lacking.”

Chronicle glanced at his bag, then with a sudden wave of his hand, he led the eighteen riders of Yan Cloud to continue their assault.

“Thud! Thud! Thud!”

The sound of steel horseshoes striking the ground began to rise.

Such a thunderous and majestic rhythm should not exist in the soft sands of the great desert, yet now it pressed down on those searching for flags in the form of an auditory illusion.

“What’s going on?”

The young man with toad-eye glasses and a sheepskin coat turned to look back, but noticed nothing amiss.

So he continued, hands in pockets, commanding his hundred or so Entry-level spirits, each only at the level of a white star, to dig through the sand in search of flags for him.

Watching these thin and bony spirits in tattered clothes vigorously swinging their worn pickaxes, creating a bustling scene, he couldn’t help but smile.

“This is the correct way to use a legion card.”

He dug at his ear, lightly blowing off the fine grains of sand clinging to his fingertips:

“Problems that can be solved with ‘manpower’ are not problems at all. It’s just finding a flag. Keep it low-key, sneakily get it done. Making a big fuss only to become the target of public criticism, isn’t that just making a wedding dress for someone else?”

“Mm, makes sense.”

A clear voice of agreement sounded close to his ear.

The person seemed very near, the breath from their speech falling on his neck like a cold scraper, causing a painful sting.

“Number Three! Number Five! Come save me… Oh no!!!”

He reacted swiftly, ducking and calling out loudly for the leaders of the Entry-level spirits.

But in the next second, he was pinned by a black arrow, its tail feathers stained with blood, to the collar of his coat.

Then, under the pull of the arrow’s great kinetic energy, he was hung on a nearby nearly withered poplar tree.

“My coat!”

He let out an instinctive cry of distress.

But before he could say more, “whoosh, whoosh, whoosh,” three arrows came from the darkness, precisely “nailing” the tactical vest buckles inside his coat.

This was just a competition, and of course, Chronicle would not truly harm anyone.

The first sentence was a warning, and the following four arrows were a second reminder.

As the old saying goes, courtesy before force.

After courtesy was observed, it was time for “force.”

Billowing black smoke spread out, and the yellow sand swept up, as eighteen fierce riders with strong horses suddenly burst forth in the long desert night.

They drew bows and arrows, walking on air, their hooves pounding like thunder, stirring up ripples and splashes of water.

“A river?”

The young man with the sheepskin coat blinked twice, his face full of astonishment.

He saw that a wide and thick river had somehow appeared in the desolate desert.

The water was turbid, the waves furious.

The eighteen black riders came riding on the river, with a round sun behind them.

Desert, ancient river…

Red sun, myriad stars…

Yellow sand, flowing water…

Cloudy mountains, sandy mounds…

A variety of conflicting scenes merged together, creating a unique harmony.

Not only was the young man with the sheepskin coat immersed in this strange beauty, but his hundred or so Entry-level spirits were also stunned.

To Chronicle’s surprise, in less than two seconds, these thin and bony spirits, skin and bones, broke free from the “Long River Sunset Round” binding state.

Then, almost instinctively, they crowded in front of the young man with the sheepskin coat, forming a “human” wall to block the arrows for him.

The rest, clearly out of instinctive fear of the Ghost Soldiers, still bravely swung their rusty and battered pickaxes and hoes, their legs shaking like sieves, their spirit bodies trembling as they charged at the eighteen riders of Yan Cloud.

“What’s this all about?”

Atop the hill, seated on the back of the beast of the year, with scouts on his left and an eagle on his right, Chronicle moved his shoulders and shook his head slightly in annoyance:

“If you’re going to fight, then fight properly. Who are you putting on this lousy show for? It makes me look like the villain.”

As he thought this, he waved his hand.

The scout beside him, sensing the scene, immediately pulled out the “Soul Entangling Banner of a Hundred Trades” from the sand pile and waved it vigorously.

The ghostly light in the pupils of the eighteen riders of Yan Cloud flickered in response, and they scattered, forming a shooting formation on horseback.

Their movements were swift as they pulled up “kites,” not clashing head-on with these crazed Entry-level spirits, but continuously and rapidly drawing bows and arrows.

In an instant, the dark “murder of crows” scattered in flight, countless “flying spears” forming a vast net, seemingly disordered.

But as dense as a forest! Inescapable!

In just a moment, the rain of shadow steel arrows enveloped the group of spirits, the arrowheads steeped in dense yin energy instantly piercing their spirit bodies, exploding like firecrackers, scattering fragments.

A hundred or so card spirits wielding “iron soldiers” fell one after another under the iron hooves of the eighteen riders of Yan Cloud, their spirit bodies bursting open, unable to resist.

The massive legion of summoned card spirits dissipated simultaneously, returning to nearly “shattered” card forms. Even the young man with the sheepskin coat, who had an outstanding mental strength cultivation among his peers, found it hard to bear.

He couldn’t help but cough harshly, shaking his head frantically into the vast night: “Bro, I give up! Stop fighting, I’m scared!”

“Mm.”

The voice was very light as it entered his ears.

The eighteen riders of Yan Cloud immediately unified their movements, withdrawing their arrows and sheathing their bows.

The leader, with a strong and well-defined hand, gently beckoned, and the three flags that the young man with the sheepskin coat had painstakingly searched for were summoned through the air.

“Eleven flags…”

“Still not enough.”

Chronicle lightly kicked the ribs of the beast, driving the fearsome creature towards another direction.

The eighteen riders of Yan Cloud also turned their horses at this moment, brandishing swords and bows, their bodies leaning slightly forward, quickly disappearing into the vast desert.

Their actions were silent, concealing their skills and fame.

“Next, please welcome the next lucky audience member.”

Chronicle spoke softly, a relaxed smile on his face.

All his hard work over this period was not in vain; now, when commanding the Ghost Soldiers, he was utterly composed.

“Three Entries and ‘Long River Sunset Round’ have been tried; now only ‘Lone Smoke in the Desert’ remains. I can use that later.”

Chronicle calculated silently, leading a troop of Ghost Soldiers, treading on sand and wind, riding the beast swiftly.

In less than half a minute, he saw that two of the three targets he had previously chosen had joined forces, charging at the remaining one.

“Fist Ghost Master, cut through their center!”

The young man in a thin down jacket and ear muffs shouted commands to his card spirits, his eyes bulging with excitement, only to sigh in disappointment the next second: “Ah, how could they still slip!”

In contrast, the young girl in a sweater dress next to him was more composed: “Stop focusing on those card spirits, go for the card master, there’s a gap in the northwest corner!”

“Oh, oh.”

The young man with ear muffs nodded repeatedly, directing two muscular ghost boxers from the battle circle to charge left and right towards the opposing card master’s direction.

At this moment, the girl in the sweater dress also deployed two disheveled, makeup-smeared card spirits in theatrical costumes to assist in the fight.

Seeing this, the card master who was being attacked by the two of them showed a fierce expression, twisting his waist in a serpentine motion while quickly moving closer to his card spirits.

“A card-making competition, two against one, it’s a bit unsightly.”

As a well-known “Justice Enforcer” of the Land of Peach, Chronicle certainly would not stand by and watch the serious moral degradation of “bullying the few with many.”

Thus, with a wave of his hand, he commanded the eighteen riders of Yan Cloud to charge at the remaining twelve or thirteen card spirits on the field.

“Woo—”

The desolate and deep sound of the horn echoed through the desert.

Iron hooves trampled over bones buried in the sand, racing like dragons.

The beacon fires and smoke of war caused a blur in vision, and the three card masters could only vaguely see the cold light in the hands of the eighteen fierce riders.

The sound of treasured swords being unsheathed, “swish, swish,” made their hair stand on end.

“Such handsome cavalry! Who are they?”

The young man with ear muffs stared intently at the troop of soldiers emerging from the night and sand, his eyes shining, almost drooling: “A real man should create card spirits like these!”

“Are you an idiot?!” The young card master who had just been attacked by him and the girl in the sweater dress couldn’t help but curse: “They’re here to pick peaches, the bad seeds. If we don’t join forces to stop him now, all three of us will have to leave!”

“Ah, ah!”

The young man with ear muffs snapped out of it, directing his remaining four ghost boxer spirits to crash into the blades.

“Sss—”

Black blood, formed of yin energy, spurted from the necks of the boxers, leaving a dark red arc in the dust.

The severed “human” heads flew out, rolling in the sand, then dissipated into black smoke.

The headless muscular spirits, dressed in shorts, continued to punch with standard movements driven by instinct, before finally staggering into the sand pits, dispersing into black smoke.

“Why rush like that? Wait for us to go together.”

The girl in the sweater dress complained, then commanded her “Sorrowful Spirits from the Fire” to join the previously attacking “Cold Night Corpse Spots Darts” to form a makeshift formation, looking not at all in sync.

But with the urgency of the situation, this was the best they could do in two or three seconds.

The practical combat training nurtured from half a month of unified training was evident at this moment.

Looking at this posture, they could at least take on two highly intelligent and specially endowed mutant meat mountains after high school graduation.

“This reaction, looks like it’s going to be stronger than Brother Liang.”

“Real combat training, indeed, should start from… high school seniors.”

Chronicle mused to himself, his right hand moving slightly, and the scout temporarily acting as a messenger raised the “Soul Entangling Banner of a Hundred Trades” high, waving it with all his might.

This caused the souls to wail and a sudden gust of yin wind to rise.

One after another, dark green ghostly flames appeared, quickly forming a large encirclement in the desert.

The Cold Night Corpse Spots Darts and Sorrowful Spirits from the Fire, restricted and unable to move, could only raise their rusty knives and spears, their faces filled with fear as they faced the charging fierce cavalry.

“Shick—”

With the leading Ghost Soldier lifting his sword from below, the yin energy hurricane that formed instantly picked up fine sand, creating a wide and sharp crescent-shaped blade.

In just one encounter, it tore through the Cold Night Corpse Spots Darts’ black clothes and protective gear.

With another flip, the spears in the hands of the Sorrowful Spirits from the Fire also flew out in circles.

Then, the swirling sand formed a densely fenced prison, firmly locking the three card masters who had been in opposition just a moment ago and had temporarily joined forces.