I'm The Only Necromancer In This Cultivation World-Chapter 66: Black Fang Bandits, Blood Fang Bandits (part 2)

Chapter 66: Chapter 66: Black Fang Bandits, Blood Fang Bandits (part 2)

The shopkeeper hurried toward the door to pull down the wooden shutter halfway.

"If you’re staying in town," he said, glancing back at Aiden, "best get indoors and keep your head down. When the clan mobilizes, things can get chaotic near the gates."

Aiden adjusted the robe under his arm.

"I’ll keep that in mind," he said calmly.

As he stepped outside, the atmosphere had completely changed.

Guards were running toward the outer walls. Clan members in armor moved with urgency. The tension in the air was thick and electric.

Aiden looked toward the direction of the gates.

Bandits.

A slow, thoughtful expression crossed his face.

Chaos was already brewing.

Aiden stepped out of the shop just as another horn echoed across the town.

People were moving quickly now. Shopkeepers pulled their shutters down. Mothers grabbed their children and hurried indoors. Guards rushed past with spears and shields in hand, boots pounding against the stone road.

The air felt tighter.

Tenser.

Aiden adjusted the bundle under his arm and walked at a steady pace, not too fast, not too slow.

His thoughts shifted immediately.

Isn’t this a perfect opportunity?

If the Dustwind Clan was forced to reveal its strength, he wouldn’t need to guess anymore. He would see how many Body Tempering practitioners they truly had. He would see how they fought. How they commanded. How disciplined they were under pressure.

And if I get lucky...

His eyes darkened slightly.

There might be a Body Tempering practitioner who falls in the chaos.

A faint curve touched his lips.

That would mean another Bronze-grade undead in his arsenal.

He didn’t need to interfere directly. In fact, it was better if he didn’t. War created bodies. Bodies created opportunity.

He turned into a narrow side path that led toward the outer wall. The sounds of movement grew louder the closer he got, orders being shouted, armor clanking, the heavy thud of the gate mechanisms being reinforced.

He slipped away from the main road and circled toward a slightly elevated patch of land near the front gate. A few large trees grew there, their branches stretching high enough to overlook part of the battlefield beyond the walls.

Without hesitation, Aiden climbed.

His movements were quiet and efficient. He gripped the bark and pulled himself up, settling onto a thick branch hidden behind dense leaves. From there, he had a clear view of the gate and part of the open field beyond the walls.

Dust rose in the distance.

Bandits.

Dozens of them.

Some on horseback, others on foot. Rough armor. Mismatched weapons. Two distinct banners waved above them, one marked with a red fang, the other darker, jagged and black.

Below him, the Dustwind Clan gathered at the gate.

He counted carefully.

Six.

Six Body Tempering practitioners stood at the front line.

Roderic Dustwind stood at the center, wearing dark armor that fit his broad frame perfectly. He held a long blade in one hand, its edge gleaming faintly under the cloudy sky. His presence alone steadied the guards around him.

To his left and right stood five others, men hardened by battle, their stances firm, eyes sharp. No wasted movement. No visible panic.

Behind them were nearly thirty trained fighters, and beyond them, ordinary guards gripping spears a little too tightly.

Across the field, the bandits slowed their advance.

The Blood Fang and Black Fang banners fluttered side by side.

From Aiden’s vantage point, he could clearly sense it.

Six.

Three Body Tempering practitioners from Blood Fang. Three from Black Fang.

They stepped forward from their ranks, weapons resting on their shoulders, gazes locked on the town’s defenders.

Even from the tree, Aiden could feel the tension thickening between the two sides.

Twelve Body Tempering practitioners in total.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Interesting.

The numbers are even.

That meant the outcome wouldn’t be one-sided. Someone would likely fall today.

Below, Roderic raised his blade slightly, his voice carrying across the field.

"You return again," he called out coldly. "Did you finally grow tired of running?"

A large man with a scar across his cheek stepped forward from the bandits’ side. A red fang was painted across his chest armor.

"Roderic!" he shouted back with a grin. "You look as arrogant as ever!"

Another man, leaner and dressed in darker leather, moved beside him. His voice was smoother.

"This time," he said, "we won’t be retreating so easily."

Roderic’s expression didn’t change.

"Then you won’t be retreating at all."

The gates creaked open just enough for the clan’s fighters to move out. They weren’t waiting to be sieged. They were meeting the enemy head-on.

Bold.

The clash began without another word.

Steel rang against steel as the two sides collided in the open field outside the gates. The impact was loud and violent, dust bursting into the air as boots dug into the earth.

Roderic moved first.

He stepped forward and met the scarred leader of the Blood Fang head-on. Their blades struck with a sharp, cracking sound that echoed across the battlefield. The force of it pushed the dirt outward beneath their feet.

They were evenly matched.

Each swing carried weight. Each block sent vibrations through their arms. Sparks flew as their weapons scraped against each other.

Aiden watched from the tree, eyes focused.

That scarred bandit... he’s on the same level as Roderic.

Not weak.

But not exceptional either.

To the right, the lean Black Fang leader engaged another Dustwind practitioner. Their fight was faster, less brute force, more precision. Quick exchanges. Controlled breathing. No wasted movement.

The remaining Body Tempering practitioners paired off almost naturally.

Six against six.

Around them, chaos unfolded.

More than a hundred warriors clashed in the background. The sound of shouting, metal, and pain blended into one continuous roar. Spears thrust forward. Shields splintered. Men fell and were trampled.

The battlefield turned into a storm of dust and blood.

Aiden narrowed his eyes, carefully observing the flow.

Their strength... it’s solid.

Each Body Tempering practitioner could break through ordinary fighters with brute force alone. When one of them swung a blade, two or three lesser warriors were forced back at once.