Reincarnation Of The Strongest Spirit Master - Chapter 1401

Chapter 1401: The Trap Is Set!
“I’m ready,” she whispered, her fingers tightening on the shaft of her glaive. While her voice had commanded the masses to wait, her spirit telepathy was already pulsing out the true orders to the squad leaders: On my mark, we don’t defend. We pierce. Absolute aggression. No survivors.

She glanced over her shoulder at the intricate, glowing patterns Fang was tracing into the ground. Her eyes shimmered with curiosity. “Oh, you are using one of those arrays? I’ve only heard whispers of that particular configuration.”

Her gaze lingered on the pulsing silver lines. “Another mystery from your repertoire. What a truly fascinating young master you are, William, to have taught an old man such an archaic art.”

Fang looked up in genuine surprise. He hadn’t told her that the array came from William, yet she had deduced it instantly. What shocked him more, however, was her apparent ignorance of the array’s true function.

To Fang, this was the ultimate weapon—a configuration that tapped into a master’s latent potential, amplifying their elemental affinity to heights that felt like a dream.

From Becky’s hushed tone, he realised the array was even more significant than he’d imagined. It wasn’t just a powerful tool from the Outer Realm; it was something rare even there.

The materials he was using were exotic, but the logic of the array itself seemed to belong to a lost era.

“When are you going to attack?” Fang asked, his voice low as he shifted the topic. He didn’t want her digging into the secrets of the guild’s foundations just yet. He knew William would have a way to handle her curiosity later, provided they both survived the night.

“Right away,” Becky said, turning her back to the array and facing the thousands of masters who had gathered in the plaza’s shadow. She looked at the blood-stained, weary faces and felt a surge of cold, focused energy.

“Are you going to be alright on your own, old man? Or do you need a few of these masters to keep the rats from chewing on your boots?”

“Take them all,” Fang said. It wasn’t arrogance; it was the cold math of war. He knew every capable blade was needed at the front if this gamble was to work.

Becky was a stranger here, without a faction of her own or a personal guard. If she was to be the tip of the spear, she needed the sharpest steel the city had left.

With a final, sharp command from Fang, the elite of the Fox Guild—the strongest masters remaining in the city—fell into formation behind Becky. Only a handful remained to tend to the unconscious Lara and provide a minimal screen for Fang’s work.

[Move out now! Attack at will!] Becky’s telepathic command exploded in the minds of her soldiers. She didn’t lead from the centre; she surged forward as the very point of the spear, her glaive trailing arcs of shimmering light that cut through the smoky air.

A few kilometres away, atop a charred bell tower, William paused. His spirit sense caught the sudden, violent shift in the plaza’s energy. He watched as a localised hurricane of Fox Guild masters erupted from the defensive line, led by a golden streak of power that could only be Becky.

“She’s moving faster than I expected,” William muttered, a grim, appreciative smile tugging at his lips. He read through her intent instantly. “I knew she was a fast learner, but I didn’t think she’d embrace the role of the bait so eagerly. Truly amazing.”

He turned his gaze away from the plaza and toward the dark, stagnant pockets of the city where the enemy’s presence felt the heaviest. The distraction was perfect. The enemy command was currently scrambling to redirect their forces to stop Becky’s rampage.

“Now,” William whispered, his body coiling for a leap that would carry him across three city blocks. “It’s time to find that bastard while he’s looking at her.”

William watched from his vantage point as the plaza’s defenders transformed into a tidal wave of aggression. The timing was masterful.

At the exact moment the enemy commanders were likely debating how to brace for the signalled attack Becky had falsely announced, the real assault smashed into their ranks with no warning at all.

The front lines of the invaders buckled. In dozens of sectors, the enemy was hurled back, their formations dissolving into a bloody mess of panicked retreats. However, the sheer mathematics of the war began to assert itself.

Once the initial shock faded, the enemy utilised their numerical superiority to anchor their positions. Wall after wall of fresh masters surged from the side streets to stall the momentum.

Yet, there were ten specific points on the battlefield where the enemy’s numbers meant nothing.

William had observed the flow of the battle with the cold detachment of a grandmaster moving pieces on a board. He saw where the local commanders were struggling and where the morale was beginning to flag.

With a silent flick of his will, he dispatched twelve of his monsters—one to each promising spearhead—to act as the ultimate force multipliers.

“If you seek chaos, then I shall give you a hand,” William whispered, his eyes narrowed as he watched a behemoth smash through an enemy shield wall.

He kept thirty-eight monsters in reserve, but he wasn’t going to let them sit idle. “And I shouldn’t waste the distraction she’s bought me.”

While the eyes of every enemy captain were fixed on Becky’s golden streak of violence, William executed a move of profound subtlety. He divided thirty of his monsters into ten groups of three.

He didn’t send them into the “hot zones” where the fighting was thickest. Instead, he snuck them through the shadows and the half-collapsed alleyways, directing them toward the enemy’s deep rear and flanks.

No one noticed the transition. These thirty monsters moved like ghosts, suppressing their auras and limiting their kills to high-value scouts who might have spotted their movement.

They were out of sight, out of mind, and perfectly positioned according to William’s internal compass.