As soon as Aziz joined the team, he displayed an extraordinary ability beyond mere attack, though how he managed it was unclear: a faint, pale grey luminescence would appear on those he focused on. These individuals, and everyone else around them, were utterly oblivious to this grey glow, but to the members of the Ace team, it was starkly visible, almost impossible to ignore. Jax, as one of the very few flying high in the sky, was naturally the focus of all eyes, inevitably attracting the "attention" of many Rohan cavalrymen—though this "attention" was far from benevolent, raining down upon him in arrow volleys dense as a downpour!

Jax was a rare Strength-type melee Contractor, templated as a Berserker. For a short time, he could even endure damage head-on like Fang Senyan, grinding out milestones like "Hedgehog" because, for him, damage was the very source of his momentum, and pain, the sun that fueled his fighting spirit! Since Jax had now made such a dramatic move, the deeply calculating man certainly wasn't only here for Eomer; he intended to act as the vanguard for the Blue Light team, exerting full force to immediately awe the entire assembly!

This served the immense purpose of establishing dominance. The mighty Pterodactyl flapped its massive wings, creating a percussive thump, thump, thump as it compressed the air, generating immense lift, before letting out a piercing shriek and diving down! On Jax's finger, a blood-red ring blazed with intense light—this ring was the Ring of Dracula, the heirloom of the Dracula lineage, still a Legendary-grade artifact!

A torrent of blood suddenly poured from the ring, shimmering with a shockingly vivid, vibrant luster. It was dazzlingly bright, much like the sheen on tender new leaves freshly washed by spring rain and then struck by sunlight. The blood seemed to possess a life force of its own!

This blood then entirely coated Jax's trident. The weapon didn't just swell to an astonishing size; it also sprouted numerous terrifying, blood-colored tentacles!! Jax was now enveloped in an astonishing cross of crisscrossing crimson light.

Clutching this massive, bizarre, blood-red trident and utilizing the Pterodactyl's high-altitude charging momentum, he plunged directly towards Eomer! Such a charge was not just aimed at Eomer; anyone caught in the collateral path would suffer greatly. All the Rohan cavalrymen in Jax's line of impact were instantly provoked by the savage, malicious killing intent.

The exposed skin on their bodies felt as if countless needles were piercing them, causing intense stinging pain. Even the warhorses of the common Rohan riders, though well-trained, reared up in sheer terror, completely beyond their masters' control! However, Eomer, directly in the path, let out a majestic roar.

He raised his thick war-spear high with one hand; the tip of the spear suddenly glowed incandescently hot. Eomer spurred his horse to rear up, meeting the charge head-on against Jax’s direction. He swung the spear left and right twice, and with just those two sweeps, he cut down an elite Uruk-hai and a common Orc!

Eomer pressed on with this aggressive momentum, slaying one in ten steps, then raised his spear for a devastating overhead strike. Behind the spear, spectral illusions of the Uruk-hai and Orc he had just slain twisted and flickered. Calculating by their trajectory paths, Eomer’s spear was set to collide with Jax’s weapon at the peak of its downward force!

Yet, just as the weapons were about to clash, the layer of attached blood substance on Jax's trident bizarrely detached itself, almost like a living thing. The separation felt as natural as a scabbard leaving a sword, or a withered leaf falling from a branch. This detachment was so sudden, yet so inherently natural, that it bred a sense of strangeness, as if not separating would have been abnormal.

The trident, stripped of its bloody casing, underwent a fundamental transformation. Its previously indestructible appearance shifted to something resembling finely wrought ice crystals—exquisite, delicate, and translucent, yet seemingly fragile. Meanwhile, the mass of blood writhed and twisted in the air, rapidly morphing into a creature resembling a snake, a worm, or a rope, its tip bifurcated.

At a glance, it looked shockingly like a giant, grotesque, crimson dandelion head. Eomer’s spear struck Jax’s crystalline trident first! The result was utterly shocking: Jax’s weapon shattered instantly.

However, only those with exceptionally keen eyes would notice that the trident hadn't been smashed to pieces by the impact; rather, in the instant just before contact, it had detonated on its own. While the end result looked identical, the subtle difference in the process was immeasurable—like the vast difference between striking someone and being struck. The shattered crystalline shards spun at high velocity, raining down upon Eomer from every direction.

Even the sound of the wind became razor-sharp. Anyone would have instinctively raised their arms to shield their eyes in that first moment. After Jax's trident exploded, the crystal fragments struck Eomer’s armor like white-hot iron flakes.

They hissed upon impact, emitting clouds of foul-smelling vapor, even sparking small flames. Eomer was hit by dozens of fragments; the immense pain instantly enveloped his entire body. He squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a desperate, fierce roar.

Yet, after the initial blast, Jax’s trident seemed to have only shattered its outer layer, revealing a dull, heavy golden club beneath. Emitting a chilling aura, the residual force slammed into Eomer’s shoulder, instantly cracking and deforming the plate armor there with a sound like breaking ice. But Jax's true killing move lay elsewhere: with the blood-beast that had detached earlier from the trident.

This creature had split its tip into five incredibly fine, crimson tentacles. They writhed and twisted in the air with ghostly agility, splitting and stretching, before the five tentacles merged into three. With lightning speed, they darted into the nostrils and mouth of Eomer's steed and vanished inside.

Yes, Jax had never intended a one-on-one duel with the monstrous Eomer. His goals were twofold: first, to awe the crowd and display the might of the Blue Light team; the second, naturally, was to infuriate Eomer. What better way to achieve both than by killing his mount?

It would significantly weaken Eomer’s formidable combat power while utterly enraging him, forcing him into a relentless pursuit! Upon the blood-beast entering its system, Eomer's warhorse instantly went rigid. No amount of whipping from its master could move it; it was frozen in place.

Then, its eyes exploded, followed by its abdomen swelling violently, veins bulging like those of a pregnant mare. Jax was concerned that Eomer’s beloved horse wasn't dying spectacularly enough to leave a lasting impression. He had even consulted the think tank for this specific tactic, designed to maximize the grudge.

Otherwise, given the offense of Aziz having wounded his sister, something truly bloody was needed to divert Eomer’s focus away from Aziz. Little did Jax know, the scene was supposed to unfold with Eomer’s charger screaming horribly, regurgitating pulverized internal organs from its mouth before finally dying tragically at its master's feet. But this script ground to a halt at this very moment.

Why? Because the intervention of the Sea Alliance group had injected itself into the action. Both the Sea Alliance and the Blue Light team had grasped the same critical point: using the slaughter of mounts to harvest hatred.

Moreover, the assassination squad sent by the Sea Alliance was desperate. If Jax finished his performance and there was nothing left for them to do, even if they survived, they would certainly be marginalized and ultimately eliminated. Laksiri often preached, “I fear not making mistakes; I fear not acting at all!” And those he deemed passive fighters usually met grim ends.

Thus, this steed was fated to become the focus— —a focus centered on extreme cruelty. The three assassins instantly unleashed astonishing killing intent. Perhaps their individual strength didn't match Ronnie’s, but their combined murderous aura directed at a single target was no weaker, perhaps stronger.

This instant burst of damage was like focusing the warm, harmless sunlight onto a single point, powerful enough to melt solid rock! At this moment, Fang Senyan and Reef ceased all offensive actions as planned, covering Aziz as they rapidly retreated. The three of them kept a low profile, even when met with cavalry attacks, they only defended silently, offering no counterattack, quickly putting twenty to thirty meters between themselves and the fray.

Eomer did notice the retreat, but being embroiled in his own crisis, he genuinely couldn't spare the attention. When the three assassins suddenly erupted and focused their attack on his mount, even though the charger possessed monstrous bloodlines, it was already on the brink of death from Jax’s blood-beast, its master helpless to intervene. When the assassins struck, there was a sudden, loud pop; three sharp weapons pierced its body simultaneously.

The energy contained within erupted, pulverizing bone. Blood sprayed violently, and the magnificent horse was blown apart into hundreds of palm-sized chunks of flesh, dying in a gruesome, bloody mess! Eomer froze for an instant.

He felt the searing pain, tasted the faint coppery tang of splashed blood on his tongue, and heard the agonizing screams of his dying horse. In his eyes, he saw the twisted, ferocious faces of his enemies… He hadn't faced such a devastating confluence of negative stimuli in a long time. He suddenly closed his eyes, and in the sudden darkness, a faint, echoing voice resonated.

“Are you afraid to die, Eomer?” When Eomer was eleven, his father died fighting Orcs, and his mother passed away from grief shortly after. He was then raised by the King of Rohan. Though cared for, the warmth of parental love was forever absent.

At fifteen, he had already faced the brink of death, an experience that nearly shattered him, leaving him with paralyzing helplessness and confusion that often resurfaced in nightmares. But now, he had his own reliance, his own anchor, his own… Power! “No!!” Eomer roared.

Then, with a violent horizontal sweep, his heavy war-spear flared with immense light, sweeping everything aside indiscriminately—friend and foe alike! A swath of overturned men and horses cleared an area of at least twenty to thirty square meters. Immediately after, Eomer hurled his war-spear toward Jax in the sky.

Jax was profoundly shocked. Eomer’s full-force attack seemed to happen in a breath; one moment the spear was being raised, the next, the gale rushed in, almost suffocating him. Fortunately, the Pterodactyl reacted instinctively, but the spear still slammed deeply into its wing, eliciting a piercing scream as it spiraled down.

Half its wing was nearly smashed to ribbons, dripping green blood that splashed onto the bodies below. Those it touched groaned in agony, as if doused in acid. After throwing his spear, Eomer initiated his charge.

His advance wasn't fast, but it felt like a ten-thousand-ton vessel slamming head-on, carrying immense, crushing weight. Before he arrived, his sheer momentum pushed the surrounding figures off balance, drastically reducing the effectiveness of anyone attempting to intercept him. I cannot go faster, but I can make you slower!

Eomer caught up to one assassin. He seemed to make a subtle motion near his waist, and the assassin's head flew clean off!! Instant kill!!!

In Eomer’s hand, however, appeared a sword whose design was utterly alien to the standard weaponry of Middle-earth. The hilt of this blade was the head of a viper; holding it felt as if one’s palm were being swallowed by a giant serpent with its jaws agape. While the blade itself was straight and sharp, it twisted into serpentine patterns whenever swung.

This was Eomer’s weapon: Gúthwine! This sword was an artifact dating back to the First Age of Middle-earth, or perhaps even earlier. Eomer encountered Gúthwine when facing certain death and found salvation.

But this was a blade that had developed its own consciousness over long ages; its material composition was ordinary. Its sole reason for being a Legendary artifact was the immense power of its spirit. As Gúthwine emerged, blood was spilled.

The blade began to tremble greedily, as if one innocent soul was insufficient to satisfy its hunger. Eomer hesitated no longer, pursuing the remaining two fleeing assassins!