?Phone reading The Death Angel and Federle flapped their massive black membranous wings, hovering in mid-air beyond the valley. Eight Zero E-book Federle had lost twice to Qin Feng, and thus became increasingly cautious, asking, "Sir, is this not a trap?" "Ha ha!" the Death Angel laughed heartily. "Even if it is a trap, what's the matter? A mere Chinese cultivator, plus a mediocre vampire—how could they possibly withstand a field of traps?" Federle quickly flattered himself, saying, "Indeed, Sir. Even I can fight them directly. With you personally leading this time, defeating them will surely be a breeze!" The Death Angel nodded, "Of course. Still, we must remain vigilant—there's no need to risk our own injuries simply to defeat them." "Understood, I'll keep that in mind," Fidelier thought with quiet satisfaction. He had never wanted to be at the forefront—now, with his lord's words, he could follow behind, well back, and let the traps be set for his lord. The Angel of Death raised his hand and stepped forward into the valley. Boom— a modified jumping lightning bolt surged upward and exploded beside him. This jumping lightning used an infrared trigger: a beam of infrared light was projected skyward. As soon as someone passed through, the beam would be interrupted, activating the mechanism. After the fireball from the explosion faded, the Angel emerged unharmed, only with a small tear in his outer garment. "Such a mere trick," he said with a smile. "It seems they have nothing more than that." "Indeed," Fidelier continued to praise from behind, "such humble tactics can hardly stand in the way of Your Lordship's progress." The Death Angel felt immensely satisfied. Having personally taken the lead, there was no reason he couldn't resolve the matter. Once Qin Feng and his companions were dealt with, he could then report back to King Fei Li. Boom... boom... Explosions erupted continuously wherever he flew, yet the results remained unchanged—besides the growing number of holes in his opponents' clothes, no tangible damage was inflicted. Federle, trailing behind, couldn't help but clench his hands tightly, feeling a surge of nervousness. To him, these explosions carried clear destructive power. Fortunately, this time it was his master facing the barrage. If it were him, even if he escaped physical injury, his stamina would surely be drained to near exhaustion. The Death Angel maintained a perfectly composed demeanor, continuing his steady flight forward. Qin Feng, concealed in the shadows, watched intently and murmured under his breath, "Goodness! Truly incredible. Even these underlings of King Fei Li are so hard to handle. Fortunately, I'd been well-prepared—soon, the one behind will surely suffer a major setback!" Isabella, hidden elsewhere, was equally tense. The two vampire adversaries she would face next were both significantly higher in rank than herself—how could she possibly handle them? The Death Angel paid no mind to these infrared-explosive bombs; though he had clearly seen an infrared line ahead, he still collided straight into it. He intended to demonstrate through his actions that such minor tactics would prove entirely ineffective. The infrared line had been obstructed, yet no bombs launched—this surprised him. Suddenly, an explosion erupted behind him. This was a deliberate trap designed to target those concealed in the rear. Qin, the young lord, had buried a metal pipe, sixty centimeters in diameter, into the ground, fitted with gunpowder and a ground-based mine at the base, placed a depleted uranium penetrating shell atop it, and arranged five armor-piercing shells around it—visually resembling a revolver's magazine. Though the charge was modest, it was sufficient to propel the six shells twenty to thirty meters into the air. As the shell reached its peak, it exploded simultaneously. The armor-piercing round struck Federer directly in the crotch—surely a painful experience, assuming he still had his testicles. Boom! Boom! Boom! Shards of贫uranium metal, mixed with six high-temperature metal jets, instantly devoured him before he could even process what was happening. Since he had been trailing behind, the earlier explosions had not affected him at all, so his defensive posture naturally relaxed to its lowest level. Facing the sudden blast with no preparation at all, he fought valiantly but still stumbled and crashed to the ground. His arms, which had only recently adapted to the vampire's physiology, were completely incinerated. Federer himself was severely burned, with multiple areas of his body exposed as bone, his face reduced to half, utterly terrifying. "Federer, how are you?" The Angel of Death hadn't expected such a turn of events. Though distant, he could feel the intense heat from the explosion—far beyond what either himself or Federer could withstand. Federer cried out, "Sir, I'm seriously injured. My remaining strength isn't enough to maintain my transformation. Please save me!" The Angel was furious, shouting, "A timid little man hiding behind his back! Show yourself and face me directly! Instead, you resort to such base tactics—what's that supposed to mean?" Qin, concealed behind the stone, chuckled to himself, "Destroying you is my skill. How does it matter what method I use? If you weren't so overconfident, would you have fallen for it?" Isabel took a deep breath, finally overcoming one opponent. Though the odds had been two against two, there was now a real chance—two against one. Even if they couldn't win, they'd have ample time to escape. The Angel of Death flew down to his side, frowned at him, and said, "You're truly badly injured. But don't worry—I'll avenge you, and I'll heal you as well!" Federer replied gratefully, "Thank you, sir!" The Angel of Death then ascended back into the sky, threw a floral sword with a graceful motion, and sent it shooting toward Qin Feng's hiding place. "Such a large stone—I simply don't believe your sword can pierce it," Qin the Young muttered. Though the sword appeared light and delicate, it sliced straight through the stone as if cutting tofu, entering completely within a blink. Wow, even better than my own flying sword. He quickly leapt aside, the floral sword nearly grazing his waist—so close that if he had moved even a little slower, it would have severed him in two. The very next moment, his own sword met the incoming one. Clang! The two swords collided, and Federer's sword was immediately knocked back, nearly losing control of it. Man, is this really that strong? Fortunately, the flower sword is not as agile as the flying sword and must return to its owner; otherwise, it would lose control. Qin Feng gained a moment of respite—had he used the Qinggang sword instead, he would likely have been cut in two by the Western flower sword, suffering serious internal injuries. Isabella launched skyward, joining the battle to relieve Qin Feng's pressure.