Chapter 12 - 12 12 Psychic Blast_1

12: Chapter 12 Psychic Blast_1 12: Chapter 12 Psychic Blast_1 The leading two Hobgoblin Wolf Cavalry couldn’t stop in time and landed directly on the greasy material. Both the hobgoblins and the ferocious wolves turned into tumbling gourds, crashing out seven or eight meters, dazed and disoriented, unable to rise for the moment. The others, seeing the inability to turn away, gritted their teeth, nudged their ferocious wolves hard, and leaped forward, attempting to jump over directly. Even carrying the hefty, robust hobgoblins on their backs, the ferocious wolves, leveraging their height and long legs, found clearing six or seven meters not particularly challenging. But they forgot one thing: there were two spellcasters among the Nort Knight Cavalry. Just as their front paws left the ground to jump, a thick web, over ten meters in diameter, appeared out of thin air and hung eerily in mid-air. The four Hobgoblin Wolf Cavalry who had managed to jump over the Grease Spell couldn’t escape, every one of them diving headfirst into the spider web. Wait! No! One of them showed a completely unexpected reaction—it was the Hobgoblin Warlord. The longsword in his hand suddenly ignited, radiating intense flames. With a powerful slash, the sword rent a large hole in the web, just big enough for him and the Giant Dire Wolf beneath him to squeeze through. For the hobgoblins and ferocious wolves stuck in the spider web and grease, the Warlord’s action spelled disaster. Both the web and grease were composed of highly flammable material. In the first second, the web began rapidly spreading flames. In the next second, sparks reached the grease on the ground, causing an explosion that ignited the entire web. The struggling hobgoblins and ferocious wolves transformed into blazing figures, rolling, howling, engulfed in flames. The mouthwatering scent of roasted meat wafted from their burning bodies. At this moment, the scene didn’t evoke appetite from anyone—it only sent chills down their spines. The Fireball Technique’s destructive power was undoubtedly formidable, but its overwhelming strength left victims no time to react, often reducing them to charred remains and shattered pieces instantly. The current spectacle, however, created a visceral shock of sight and sound, stimulating the nerves far more intensely. The hobgoblin soldiers, clinging by sheer will, finally broke down, scattering in all directions in utter collapse. Their panicked, pathetic retreat wasn’t much better than the miserable goblin simpletons they’d slaughtered earlier. The raging inferno seriously hindered Gaven and Zalanda’s pursuit of the Hobgoblin Warlord. Watching the Giant Dire Wolf with the Warlord make leaps and bounds, about to disappear in the distance, Gaven grew visibly anxious. He hadn’t settled the score from his past life yet! There was no way he would let him escape! His shimmering azure eyes flickered with palpable light. He transformed the towering hatred from a decade of enslavement into a force so real it burst inside the brain of the Giant Dire Wolf beneath the Warlord. Pop! Pop! Two streams of blood sprayed from Gaven’s nose; his head buzzed as if a firecracker had exploded inside it. Psychic Blast! He had successfully performed the psychic ability devised through the experiments of Zhang You the Second, which involved sacrificing oneself to create it. But the sheer violent force clearly exceeded Gaven’s body’s limits, triggering a powerful psychic backlash. However, this was Felen, a place filled with miraculous magical healing methods. The dizziness in his head didn’t impede his body’s instinct. Without hesitation, he reached into his combat potion pouch, pulling out a small steel vial and drinking the crimson liquid inside. The Giant Dire Wolf, under attack, faced a more horrifying condition. Blood not only sprayed from its nose but also poured out from its eyes and ears. If Gaven’s head felt like it had a firecracker inside, the wolf’s had an ear-splitting explosive. Its entire brain became a chaotic mess, its front legs buckling, sending the Hobgoblin Warlord tumbling to the ground. The Hobgoblin Warlord didn’t lead a warband of hobgoblins through sheer luck. He owed his position to formidable personal combat prowess. Faced with the sudden situation, he didn’t panic but pushed off with his hands, leaving the saddle just before the Giant Dire Wolf crashed to the ground. Boom! The next moment, a thunderous explosion rang in the Warlord’s ears. The Transcendent Warrior’s instinctive reflexes outpaced even the Hobgoblin Warlord’s brain, allowing him to dodge to the side. Trailing behind, Zalanda witnessed a bizarre scene unfold. Gaven had clearly aimed at an empty patch of ground with the Gnome Fire Trench. But in the next instant, the Hobgoblin Warlord voluntarily moved into the path of the trench’s muzzle. It was as if the Warlord had a death wish, rushing to greet the iron pellets sprayed from the trench, which pummeled his face. The seemingly fantastical occurrence lost its mystery when unraveled. This was a common trick among advanced professionals, especially powerful warriors. Searᴄh the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Once the profession template was activated, the body synchronized with magical power, granting multiple benefits such as expedited use of divine arts and magic potions, profession upgrades, physical awareness digitization for real-time monitoring, magic synchronization skills enhancement, attribute boosts, feat enhancements, and more. However, it came with minor drawbacks—the magical power could be consciously deceived. Gaven had exploited this weakness, betting that the Hobgoblin Chieftain possessed the evasion feat. He heightened the magic’s sensitivity to self-protection, feigned a stabbing motion with his spear to trigger the passive feat, and preemptively predicted his dodge position before firing again. There was significant gambling involved in predicting the position, with only a fifty percent success rate. Today, the Goddess of Luck, Tymora, was on Gaven’s side. The unreliability of those gnomes was well-deserved. This remark in Gaven’s mind brimmed with more delight than mockery. The Gnome Fire Trench didn’t compensate for recoil; its design purely pursued larger powder loads and greater ammunition capacity. The massive alchemical gunpowder explosion generated enormous recoil that rendered the left side of Gaven’s body completely numb. The previously injured area of his left arm broke again. If the recoil was this terrifying, the propulsion it produced must have been overwhelmingly strong. The Hobgoblin Warlord’s face was now the clearest proof. Covered in large and small indentations—no fewer than ten—the face bore the worst damage in his eyes. Both were destroyed, one blown who-knows-where, the other hanging out of its socket. The scene was gruesome beyond description. Anyone present, all battle-hardened veterans, barely registered the horror—it was merely child’s play to them. Hou! The Hobgoblin Warlord let out an enraged roar, his single-handed sword bursting into fierce flames as he swung it wildly. He knew escape was impossible today. Even in death, he wouldn’t surrender quietly; he intended to take the scheming little thief down with him. Unfortunately, Gaven had far more self-awareness than the Warlord assumed. The gap in strength was insurmountable; the Warlord, a level-ten Transcendent Warrior, could end Gaven with a single clean hit. From the start, Gaven had only aimed to slow the Warlord’s escape, landing one strike before retreating. Blinding the Warlord was pure delightful coincidence. “You think you’ll drink your potion? Never!” Zalanda shouted furiously, transforming his long spear into a throwing spear and hurling it. The Hobgoblin Warlord, about to drink his healing potion, paused immediately, adopting a defensive stance. He relied on his sharp intuition to deflect the spear with brute force. In the brief window of delay, Zalanda closed the distance, his one-handed sword swinging down viciously with the momentum of his warhorse.