The primary function of the patrol team was to serve as an early warning system. They were usually equipped with the fastest horses to ensure a swift retreat in case of encountering the enemy. This gave the caravan time to prepare some defenses.

In larger caravans like the one Felix encountered, there were generally two patrol teams. One scouted ahead, while the other lingered not far behind the caravan. Given the slow pace of the caravan, being ambushed from behind was a significant concern.

Only one member of the patrol team returned, suggesting grim prospects for the other two members.

"The chief, he's not breathing," said a Northern man who Felix had met once before. He caught the patrol team member falling off his horse, checked his nose for breath, then turned to the approaching caravan. The tall, burly man spoke.

He was an exceptionally tall man, standing over two meters, wielding a heavy iron sword, clad in iron-studded armor, with a hat made from a red wolf's skin. Red wolves were magical beasts capable of harnessing the power of fire, cunning, and ruthless hunters!

The tall group leader embodied the intense Northern style, as the Northerners were said to be descendants of savages. They carried a bit of that savage style, like wearing parts of the most powerful creatures they had hunted as ornaments.

In this respect, Northern men were at least more civilized than orcs and true savages, who would wear human skulls as trophies.

"First, let's get him into the wagon. After we wipe out those bandits, we'll hold a funeral for him," the tall mercenary leader said with a grim face. Despite being used to the dangers of his profession, seeing a long-time comrade die before him stirred a deep sense of anger and a thirst for revenge.

In just a few minutes, under the tall mercenary leader's command, the entire caravan quickly formed a circle, with bows and arrows at the ready. Every man in the caravan was assigned to defend a section. As for Felix, given his earlier tales and role as a ranger, he was tasked with protecting the women and children, including a blonde beauty.

The mercenary troop, positioned outside the circle formed by the wagons, quietly awaited the bandits' arrival.

"They've got the air of an army," Felix observed, admiring the mercenaries' formation. Sixteen cavalry and forty-two fighters – that was the full strength of the mercenary troop protecting the caravan. Their orderly ranks clearly showed military discipline.

"Marina," Felix said, noticing the young apprentice magician's pale face beside him. Despite her training, she was still a child unaccustomed to such dire situations. The solemn readiness of the mercenaries only heightened her nervousness, causing her palms to sweat.

Soon, the thundering sound of galloping hooves approached, followed by a dense mass of shadows and a cacophony of war cries in front of the caravan.

"Bandits!"

Among the dark figures, Felix spotted the silhouettes of centaurs!

Centaurs were incredibly fast runners, although they lacked endurance over long distances. But in a short, explosive charge, few cavalry could escape their assault.

It's worth noting that centaurs generally didn't wear horseshoes, being intelligent creatures averse to such things, which made them less enduring runners than true steeds.

Felix had good eyesight, but he preferred to sense his surroundings. The approaching bandit group numbered around three hundred, including about fifty centaurs, with the rest being fierce-looking human thieves.

A bandit group of this size was considerable, especially in the grasslands where logistics like food were challenging.

Large groups over a thousand were more common in human areas, but on the vast plains, even basic necessities like food and weapon maintenance posed significant challenges.

Among the centaurs, the strongest wielded a large axe, likely the leader, recognized by the string of human skulls around his neck – a custom not far removed from that of savages.

As for the human thieves, their strength was average at best, except for a wizard riding a giant wolf that caught Felix's interest. The rest seemed like mere fodder.

As the distance between the two sides shrank to less than a kilometer, the centaur raiders took the lead, their orderly hoofbeats exerting considerable pressure on the merchants, many of whom had never faced such a threat before.

The blonde beauty beside Felix gripped his sleeve tightly, too scared to even breathe.

With the closing distance, the centaurs let out a series of calls, like driving wild beasts, trying to overpower the mercenaries' morale!

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Roar!

Roar!

Roar!

The exceptionally tall mercenary leader and his two deputy leaders let out a wild, earth-shaking roar. Their strong bodies underwent a bizarre transformation. Veins bulged, skin turned blood-red due to congestion, and their bones emitted a series of crackling sounds.

"Frenzy," Felix observed from a distance, surprised to discover that these seemingly unremarkable leaders of the mercenary group possessed the strength of mid-tier warriors. This kind of power, once further refined and materialized, could transform their bodies and significantly extend their lifespans.

"It seems the Northern people do indeed have some savage ancestry," Felix thought, frowning slightly.

The first clash of strength passed.

The five mid-tier professionals of the Northern mercenary group let out a roar and charged towards the centaur bandits with their greatswords, adopting a unique formation.

A fierce combined attack!

In just a couple of breaths, nearly twelve centaur bandits fell under their greatswords.

"Army's combined attack technique!"

Felix's pupils narrowed slightly. He was certain this was a military technique, as ordinary mercenaries couldn't afford the resources or manpower to develop such intricate coordinated attacks. These five professionals worked together seamlessly, a rapport formed through countless life-and-death situations. They must have come from a top-tier army.

With an odd rhythm in their steps, the five mid-tier professionals took turns advancing, each confrontation resulting in a centaur bandit falling under their greatswords. Their military formation was both offensive and defensive.

Although lacking a specialized defense system, it was impervious for the moment. The two fire attribute professionals wielding greatswords led the main assault. Their explosive fire attribute battle power could scorch an enemy's skin off with just one hit.

The wind attribute professional, acting as a flanking and coordinated attacker, remained outside the formation, using agile movements to disrupt the enemy's counterattacks.

The two earth attribute warriors stood on either side of the formation like solid boulders, firmly blocking attacks from all directions and fully protecting the fire attribute warriors as they charged towards the centaur bandits' central position.

The centaur bandits, numerous in number, could cause significant losses to the Northern mercenaries if they maintained a defensive stance. A direct charge to scatter the centaurs' formation could quickly disperse these untrained bandits. Once their lines broke, reorganizing would be a headache, even for the most skilled military leaders.

A collapse in battle is like a falling mountain - inevitable.

In less than five minutes of confrontation, dozens of bodies lay on the ground. The defense line organized by the Northern mercenaries crumbled under the centaurs' charge, and the few survivors had to retreat to the wagon formation with their barely alive comrades.

The centaurs' charge might be manageable for the mid-tier professionals, but for the ordinary mercenaries yet to awaken their elemental affinities and second-tier energy manipulation, the impact was overwhelming.

Unless one was a seasoned mercenary close to reaching the fourth level and stepping into the mid-tier, others with lower combat prowess couldn't withstand the second charge after surviving the first onslaught from the centaurs.

The 'cavalry' of the centaur bandits, primarily composed of centaurs, wielded enormous two-handed blades, each weighing over sixty pounds. The inertia of the charge combined with the centaurs' silver sub-species strength could cleave an enemy in chainmail in two.

The Northern mercenary group mainly used greatswords, and they didn't even have shields. If not for the five mid-tier professionals holding back the main force of the centaur cavalry, casualties would have been devastating by now.

"It looks like only those five mid-tier professionals are from the military," Felix realized. The Northern mercenary group clearly wasn't from the military. Although they had a hint of military presence, they lacked the clear division of roles typical in military combat.

"Can you cast a Fog Spell?"

Suddenly, a south wind rose on the plains, carrying a thick scent of blood into the wagon formation. The blonde beauty clinging to Felix trembled violently, gripping his sleeve tightly, showing no sign of letting go.

She was just a magic apprentice, unaccustomed to real battle, probably not even used to the sight of blood. Her nervousness was understandable. Others in the wagon formation were better off, with the exception of a few merchants who had never seen such bloodshed. They gripped their weapons tightly, preparing to fight off the approaching centaurs and protect their wealth.

Profit and risk are relative. Crossing the plains brought profits enough for a long period of lavish spending, but failure meant facing financial ruin.

Seeing the blonde beauty beside him still in shock, Felix had to shake her shoulder and whispered into Marina's ear, "Can you cast a Fog Spell?"

The scent of blood drifting with the wind stirred a bloodthirsty desire in Felix. He suddenly longed to join the battle, but he couldn't reveal his power openly and had to rely on small tricks for cover.

Fog Spell is a second-level magic. As a magic apprentice, it was slightly beyond the blonde beauty's curriculum. However, it was a common spell, and if she was a talented apprentice, mastering one or two second-level spells early wouldn't be too surprising.

"Oh? Yes! I can!" the blonde beauty finally came back to her senses. To wake her up, Felix had to whisper in her ear, causing an unusual blush on Marina's pale cheeks. After gathering her courage, she looked into Felix's eyes and whispered, "I can summon a fog covering an area about fifty yards in length and width!"

Fifty yards?

Hearing this, Felix was taken aback. Fifty yards was over forty meters. For a magic apprentice to summon such a large fog area suggested remarkable elemental affinity.

"Prepare your magic," Felix instructed as he drew his single-handed sword, leapt out of the wagon formation, and stealthily approached the flank of the centaur cavalry. He instructed Marina, still pale and nervous, "At five o'clock, release the Fog Spell in fifteen seconds, with a float height of five feet. Understand?"

The blonde beauty nodded nervously, indicating she understood Felix's combat terms.

"Good," Felix nodded satisfactorily.

As he turned around, his eyes were covered with a hint of blood-red light. His slender, pale fingers gripped the fine iron single-handed sword tightly. With a light tap on the wagon's shaft, his lean figure turned into a fleeting shadow, piercing into the side of the centaur charge like a razor-sharp sword!