Chapter 1607: Not smooth

The moment the collision began, the battle was already decided.

Though the polar bear cavalry was small in number, the deliberate contraction of the battle lines had unknowingly concentrated the mutant creatures into a dense mass. When these terrifying riders charged in, the marine mutants fell like harvested wheat, their bodies sliced apart by the massive cleavers, their lives extinguished in an instant.

They weren’t without retaliation—cyan beams from their glowing eyes and all manner of attacks, familiar and unfamiliar, rained down on the polar bear cavalry. Yet no matter the assault, the worst it did was stagger a rider or their mount, drawing a few drops of blood from their fur-cloaked bodies. Not a single rider fell. Their formation remained flawless, their charge unbroken.

In moments, the mutant ranks were shattered, collapsing into complete disarray.

The Motley Crusaders’ approach was brutally simple—no high-tech gadgets, no dazzling tactics.

Just disciplined, unified execution.

And, of course, the undeniable might of the mutated polar bear cavalry. Their offensive power spoke for itself—both riders and mounts were relentless killing machines.

But what truly inspired awe was their defense. What was that fur-binding skill that merged rider and bear? How could it render this unit impervious to casualties despite the mutants’ onslaught?

With this question lingering, Ye Zhongming turned his attention forward—the mutants had reached his position.

At the forefront stood the female guard, unmoving since the battle began. Any creature that neared the formation was met with overwhelming force.

When the largest wave of mutants surged from the sea, Cloud Peak’s forces advanced with eerie ease.

No earth-shaking charge like the Crusaders, no flawless defense like Gyanendra, no brute-force annihilation like Cannibal Chain.

Cloud Peak’s battle was… quiet.

To observers who’d already finished their fights, Cloud Peak’s combat seemed almost effortless.

The female warriors, supported by the youths behind them, moved as if strolling through a garden. Their strikes appeared casual, yet entire swaths of marine mutants fell lifeless to the ground.

They barely even used skills—just swings of their weapons, left and right, and the enemies were gone.

No one could mistake this for weak opposition. On the contrary, though fewer in number, the mutants attacking Cloud Peak included over a dozen level seven creatures!

Yet their fate was no different from their weaker kin—no matter how they struggled, they were carved to pieces.

The message was clear: Cloud Peak was strong. Exceptionally strong.

The reasons for their strength varied by observer.

Gyanendra fixated on their weapons—all blue-grade. As a leader who prioritized crafting jobs, he envied Cloud Peak’s armaments. Even with his influence across West Asia, outfitting an entire force with blue-grade weapons was beyond him. Ř₳ɴŎ𝐛ЕṦ

Alamos coveted Cloud Peak’s warbeasts. The female guard’s one-per-person allocation struck him as wasteful. In his eyes, those creatures belonged in his labs as specimens.

Ruan Xiao, deeply familiar with Cloud Peak, had long known the female guard’s prowess. His focus was on the youths.

When did Leader Ye raise this Youth Army? The oldest can’t be more than fifteen or sixteen. If they survive a few more years, their potential is limitless.

Wu Xiu’s gaze never left Ye Zhongming. Yet he simply stood there—not attacking, not retreating, not advancing, not even speaking—while his subordinates handled everything.

This spoke volumes about Cloud Peak’s training and coordination. They operated seamlessly without his direct command.

Or perhaps, battles of this scale didn’t warrant his intervention.

As for the Motley Crusaders? Their thoughts remained unknown.

The battle had been swift, its conclusion swifter still.

After each faction displayed strength, confidence in crossing the strait should’ve surged. Yet no one moved.

Something felt wrong.

Given marine mutants’ numbers and temperament, this assault—under 100,000 total, half low-level, with just one level eight Leviathan—was too light.

Now, the shattered ice field lay eerily quiet. The corpses littering the ground went untouched.

Hundred-meter stretches of open water dotted with drifting ice chunks should’ve drawn scavengers.

"This isn’t right!"

Alamos muttered first, his eyes locked on the water, expression darkening.

Gyanendra, inside his vehicle, scanned the surrounding seas with his machines.

The calm was unnatural. And in the apocalypse, unnatural meant deadly.

Ruan Xiao lowered a model sailboat into the water, monitoring a handheld device.

Ye Zhongming, previously motionless, strode to the ice’s edge and projected his mental energy into the depths.

Only the Motley Crusaders seemed unperturbed—they were looting, harvesting mutant cores and materials.

However, a closer look revealed that their rear guard was retreating stealthily.

"GO! NOW!"

Alamos suddenly screamed, his team bolting for intact ice on the far side. Gyanendra, positioned at the flank with superior mobility, wheeled his forces around in a wide arc, racing for the opposite shore.

Cannibal Chain and the Crusaders followed suit, all sprinting for safety.

"What? What’s happening?" Old Man, trailing Cloud Peak’s ranks, panicked.

Ye Zhongming didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pointed across the open water. "No time—jump the ice floes! Move!"

He leaped onto the first floating chunk, then the next, the female guard and Junior Army following without question.

Old Man, clueless but trusting, copied them. Midway across, the truth reached him:

A monstrous presence was rising from the depths, scattering all other marine life in terror.

The panic of these seasoned evolved told him everything.

Level nine.