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Perhaps to outsiders, the city of Alfalfa seemed to be constantly engulfed by chaos and danger, but the local residents saw a sense of order in the chaos, steered by Capen and the Alfalfa City Brotherhood under his command.

But now, this order was about to be disrupted.

The various factions in the city were becoming restless, not just for the priceless bonds, but also for the power over the city.

Under the expectant gazes of many, the final deadline set by Capen finally arrived.

On this day, the sun rose as usual.

Not many people were seen in this notorious city of chaos. The empty streets were swept up by gusting winds, and from the houses on either side of the streets, countless pairs of eyes mixed with fear and exhilaration peered through window cracks, observing everything outside.

Nearing noon, on the dilapidated main roads of Alfalfa City, in front of the Radiance Cathedral, and in the central squares of the three districts, figures holding long swords and clubs began to appear almost simultaneously.

As the hours passed, the crowds grew larger. By the afternoon, a total of tens of thousands of people had assembled at major transportation hubs around Alfalfa City, dividing into two clearly delineated groups standing in silent confrontation.

No one knew who was the first to make a move; two torrents suddenly collided.

Members who once belonged to the same Alfalfa Brotherhood, they now sneered as they stabbed the long swords in their hands into the chests of their own “brothers”.

Amidst the flashes of blades and swords, fresh blood slowly seeped into the crevices of the bluestone paved road, much like a large and mysterious magic array, filled with a magical yet gruesome aura.

Life seemed so fragile and worthless at this moment.

Alfalfa City had become a giant flesh mill, swallowing up one living creature after another.

The two groups had become bloodthirsty, bereft of fancy martial arts techniques or high-level fighting spirit. They possessed only the fiercest momentum and the most brutal ruthlessness. This kind of brutality was deeply ingrained in their bloodlines, a legacy from the primitive instinct of slaughter and bloodlust in ancient times.

One after another, bodies were chopped down and pierced through. They writhed and screamed on the ground, only to be trampled underfoot by those who came after. All dignity, face, and status appeared so pale and weak in front of slaughter.

Whether they were the respected gang leaders of Alfalfa City, the dreaded top-level fighters, or the most despised underlings at the bottom of the pecking order; at this moment, they all attained absolute equality—everyone only had one life to live.

The battles taking place in the streets and alleys of Alfalfa City were far from a conventional military confrontation. There were no orderly military formations, no unifying uniforms, let alone ironclad discipline. Yet the danger and brutality were no less intense.

These people did not have the organizational efficiency or cooperation of a regular army, but they were just as ruthless and apathetic towards life, if not more tenacious.

When a squad was broken up by their opponents, they immediately scattered in different directions, hiding in the nooks and crannies of the streets. Once the time was right, they would regroup and start killing once more.

The scent of blood became the most potent aroma in the city, while the sound of slaughter became the only melody in this world.

The whole city seemed to have turned into a giant arena, stuffed with beasts slaughtering each other for glory, benefits, and survival.

It wasn’t until dusk that this brutal slaughter came to a halt.

The screams and roars gradually subsided. Some people lay on the ground, while others, of course, stood on top of corpses.

However, the war had just begun, and now it was merely halftime.

Victory was far from decided.

Standing atop a dilapidated building, Orlando looked out at Alfalfa City, which was gradually being swallowed up by darkness, his face calm.

The younger brother standing behind him kept glancing at the silhouette of his boss, itching to speak but holding back.

After a while, the icy words of Orlando finally came:

“Tell them, there’s no compensation!”

“But, but boss, they said if there’s no compensation, they’ll…”

“I said, none!” Orlando abruptly turned, his bulging eyes looking as if he was about to devour the younger brother, “Since they chose to fight against Capen with me, they shouldn’t think about backing out midway! Go tell them, once we’ve achieved final victory, whatever they deserve, I will not hold back a single copper coin from them.

“However, the game is not over, they won’t be taking anything from me!”

“Yes!” His follower, fearing any further rebuke, quickly agreed and backed away.

Orlando stared blankly into the pitch-black sky for a moment, before turning away and heading downstairs.

However, he stopped in his tracks as soon as he rounded a corner.

Because standing before him was the last person he wanted to see—Capen!

Orlando stiffened, wanting to flee, but he didn’t dare make any sudden movements.

Capen did not move either, but the mockery in his eyes seemed like a tiger observing the struggle of its prey.

Orlando opened his mouth and rasped, “Only three people knew I was here; which one betrayed me?”

Capen smiled triumphantly, saying, “Why don’t you guess?”

Orlando, maintaining a semblance of calm, thought for a moment and said, “It’s probably Les. His men suffered the most casualties in today’s battle. He would be the one most eager for me to offer a share of the bonds as compensation.”

Clap, clap.

To his surprise, Capen actually applauded, complimenting him sincerely, “Impressive! Orlando, had you chosen to earn some goodwill by offering some of your bonds sooner, you wouldn’t be in such a dire situation.”

Orlando’s lips tightened, and he remained silent.

Still smiling, Capen continued, “Of course, if you handed those bonds over to me now, I could still spare your life.”

Again, Orlando did not respond.

The smile gradually faded from Capen’s face, his tone turning icy. “Hmph, since you refuse to know what’s good for you, I won’t hold back any longer!”

No sooner had his words finished than Capen, like a robust rhinoceros, charged at Orlando with unstoppable momentum.

Orlando’s face paled instantly. He instinctively rolled forward.

Boom!

The ground shattered loudly, with shards dispersing like projectiles. Several hit Orlando, leaving bruises all over his body.

Orlando did not dare to waste another moment. As soon as he got on his feet, he started to run.

Being a fifth-order warrior, Capen’s personal combat strength put him at the peak of the hierarchy in Alfalfa City. Orlando had no chance against him in a direct confrontation.

However, Capen snarled with mocking pleasure in his eyes and chased after him once again.

Hearing the sound of footsteps closing in behind him, Orlando, without thinking, stabbed backwards with his sword.

Clang!

With a mere flick of Capen’s wrist, the sword fractured, sending shards flying in all directions.

The enormous force transferred from the sword lifted Orlando off the ground and slammed him hard into the wall.

Vomiting a mouthful of fresh blood, Orlando slumped to the ground, his eyes filled with despair.

With an air of leisure, Capen slowly approached Orlando, taunting him, “You have one last chance, Orlando. Give me the bonds, and I’ll let you live.”

Orlando gasped for breath a few times before he suddenly started laughing.

Bewildered, Capen squinted his eyes, but before he could ask Orlando whether he had gone insane, he suddenly felt a chilling gaze from behind.

Whirling around, he saw a figure clad head to toe in white armor standing behind him—who had quietly appeared out of nowhere!