Time passed minute by minute.

Lin Feng stood on the western city wall, hands propped against the battlements, looking out over the city.

The moonlight was like water, spilling over the vast plains, coating the withered grass and scattered stones in a layer of silver-white.

The distant horizon was pitch black, showing nothing; only the wind blew from that direction, carrying a faint, indistinct stench of blood.

To his left was the West Gate Left Archer Tower, and to his right was the West Gate Right Archer Tower.

Each tower held fifteen Crossbowmen, heavy crossbows drawn and quivers full, waiting in battle readiness.

On the wall, a hundred Beacon Guards stood sparsely, halberd tips pointed outward, silent as iron.

Their silhouettes were stretched long by the moonlight, like nails driven into the city wall.

Lin Feng checked the time. Nightmare time: 9:50 PM.

Ten minutes left.

He looked up at the sky. The moon hung in the center of the heavens, large and round.

Like a silver-white mirror, it cast its cold brilliance upon the earth. It looked no different from usual.

Then, the moon changed.

It wasn't a gradual darkening, but as if someone had splashed a basin of fresh blood across the sky.

A thick, piercing, heart-palpitating red surged from the edges of the moon, spreading rapidly until it swallowed the entire lunar surface.

The moonlight fell, staining the entire world a dark crimson.

Everyone's faces, bodies, and weapons were covered in an eerie blood-red hue.

The Beacon Guards on the wall stirred. Some gasped in low voices, some gripped their halberd shafts tighter, and some instinctively took half a step back.

But they soon quieted down. The hundred figures straightened up once more, halberd tips pointing outward again.

Lin Feng gazed at that blood moon, his brow furrowed deeply.

Unease—an unease deeper than ten days ago. It felt like something was pressing down on his chest.

Heavy and suffocating, he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

There was an indescribable fluctuation of energy in the air, spreading out in circles like ripples on water.

It wasn't the regular, predictable fluctuations of previous Nightmare Tides, but a chaotic, violent fluctuation, as if something was struggling in the depths.

It was several times more intense than before.

Lin Feng gripped his Wildfire Spear. The ancient {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} seal script runes on the spear's body flowed slightly under the blood-red moonlight, as if responding to something.

9:55 PM. The energy fluctuations grew stronger, and the air began to vibrate.

9:58 PM. A faint crack appeared on the distant horizon.

It wasn't lightning or fire, but a rift in space itself.

It was as if an invisible giant hand had torn a hole in the sky.

9:59 PM. The rift expanded, and purple-black light seeped from the crack, staining that patch of sky an eerie color.

10:00 PM sharp.

Boom—!!!

Five hundred meters outside the West Gate, space suddenly tore apart! Not one rift, but two!

Two massive fissures hung side-by-side in mid-air. Purple-black light gushed from the rifts, illuminating the surrounding wilderness in a deathly pale light.

Then, they came.

The Yellow Turban Army. They poured out from both rifts simultaneously like a tide, like a swarm of ants, dense and packed beyond the horizon.

Their yellow turbans were particularly jarring under the blood moon. Tattered leather armor, rusted iron axes, maces, and spears glinted coldly in the moonlight.

First came the infantry, then the Strongmen, then the Archers, and then the cavalry. Wave after wave, an endless stream.

Lin Feng's pupils suddenly constricted.

One thousand. Two thousand. Three thousand. Four thousand. Five thousand.

A full five thousand Yellow Turban Army soldiers poured from the two rifts, forming ranks five hundred meters outside the West Gate.

Infantry in the front, Strongmen in the center, Archers in the back, and cavalry on the flanks. The formation was orderly, and their killing intent soared to the heavens.

And at the very front of the military formation, two figures stood side-by-side.

One was mounted, clad in black iron armor and holding a long-handled battle-axe;

The other was also mounted, similarly clad in black iron armor, wielding a massive double-edged battle-axe.

Two Yellow Turban Channel Chiefs, both Level 25 Rare Bosses.

A double Nightmare Tide.

Lin Feng's knuckles turned white as he gripped the Wildfire Spear.

Five thousand Yellow Turban Army soldiers, two Rare Bosses.

The numbers were nearly double those of the previous stronghold.

This wasn't a normal Nightmare Tide; this was a double Nightmare Tide empowered by the blood moon.

Tonight, who knew how many territories were experiencing the same thing.

How many walls would be breached, how many subjects would be slaughtered, how many nations would perish tonight.

He remembered his history textbooks saying that eighty years ago, after the blood moon appeared, thirty percent of the nations on Planet Blue were destroyed.

Thirty percent.

Lin Feng took a deep breath, suppressing the unease in his heart. Now was not the time for such thoughts.

Five thousand Yellow Turban Army soldiers were outside the city, and two Rare Bosses were only five hundred meters away.

Beacon Fire Town's walls were only twenty meters high, there were only a hundred Beacon Guards, and only thirty Crossbowmen.

But he had the Wildfire Spear. He had a purple set. He had the attribute effects unlocked by 60 Strength. He had the health-locking trump card of Beacon Fire Despair.

He had to end this quickly.

Lin Feng gripped the Wildfire Spear tightly, his gaze piercing through the blood-red moonlight to land on those two Yellow Turban Channel Chiefs.

He turned around and looked at the Beacon Guards on the wall. A hundred figures stood straight under the blood moon, their halberd tips like a forest.

There was fear on their faces, but even more so, there was determination.

“Hold the wall.” Lin Feng's voice wasn't loud, but every word was like a nail driven into everyone's hearts. “Wait for my return.”

Without waiting for anyone to reply, he flipped over and leaped down from the wall.

From a height of twenty meters, he only slightly bent his knees upon landing, absorbing all the impact.

Under the blood moon, that solitary figure charged alone toward the five thousand Yellow Turban Army soldiers.

...

Planet Blue, Great Xia, a certain city.

In a slightly cluttered apartment, it was 7:09 AM.

Chen Hao was slumped on the sofa, legs propped on the coffee table, holding a cup of freshly brewed instant coffee.

The coffee was a bit hot; he blew on it twice, took a cautious sip, and then burrowed deeper into the sofa.

On his retina, the 【Beacon Fire Town - Lin Feng】 livestream was as clear as if he were there in person.

The moonlight on the walls, the dark distant horizon, and the figure standing alone by the battlements—everything was perfectly visible.

Popularity: Fifty million.

It was far worse than a month ago. Back then, when Lin Feng declared war on Hundred Ghosts County, the livestream popularity surged to three or four hundred million, with a colorful deluge of bullet comments in every language.

Now it was only fifty million, a significant drop.

But Chen Hao didn't find it strange. A month ago was the battle of the century—a town-level declaring war on a county-level, the first time in ninety years.

And now? It was just the monthly Nightmare Tide, an old story.

Being able to keep fifty million viewers was already the treatment of a top-tier streamer.

He glanced at the screen, his brow furrowing.

Soldiers stood sparsely on the wall; with a quick glance, he estimated there were at most a hundred or so.

Lin Feng stood alone by the battlements, the Wildfire Spear on his back glinting with a dark red light in the moon's glow.

Defending against a Level 3 Nightmare Tide with a hundred people? Was this a joke?