I Can Copy And Evolve Talents - Chapter 1341 Military Power Struggle

Chapter 1341  Military Power Struggle

In a conflagration of cliffs that seemed moments from crumbling into each other, white tents dotted the plain like scattered bread crumbs carried by ants. The camp thrummed with activity.

Barricade fences surrounded the perimeter, and massive tower structures had been raised to adapt to the strange angles of the cliff faces. Soldiers in red and obsidian armor moved between them, each to their own duties, some clustered in small groups while others walked patrol routes along the wooden walkways.

Far behind the main camp, masses of dark horses stood in makeshift corrals. They looked like things harvested from nightmares, more vicious than anything called a horse had any right to be. Even their subtle neighing crackled like hellfire sparking against stone.

These creatures were situated behind the largest tent in the camp. Inside, six individuals surrounded a circular table covered with maps and markers.

One of them was familiar. Blonde hair swept back in near-vertical spikes, electric blue eyes sharp with cold elegance. Pyrrhus was a man whose presence demanded silence, and received it.

Next to him stood a young man in silver armor, posture rigid with the practiced stillness of someone who knew when not to speak. To Pyrrhus’s left lounged a man in ruffian clothes with no armor at all, his rough black hair unkempt and his eyes carrying the particular exhaustion of someone who’d been tired since the day he was born.

The remaining three held the other side of the table. The most prominent among them had red hair and obsidian armor, his crimson cape draped over one shoulder and wrapped around his torso like an outer garment. This was Commander Zebelon of the Empire’s Seventh Legion: The Nightblood, specifically designated for conquest.

They were the kind of dogs that weren’t often let out of the cage, given how terrible and devastating they could be. But today they were here, in the midst of these treacherous cliffs, close to Ryugan.

Beside the Commander stood two of his subordinates. One was a young man with dark grey hair and deep, slanted eyes. He wore the same obsidian armor as his commander, though his cape flew loose behind him rather than wrapping his torso.

The last was a woman with short black hair and eyes so dark they seemed to drink in whatever light touched them.

“If we go in through here, there’s more chance of ambushing them unaware.” Commander Zebelon tapped a point on the map. “We use the first day to destroy their vanguard here. Of course, we won’t give them time to regroup. Once we withdraw the first soldiers, we pull in the next wave three hours later. They march straight into the city through the torn opening here.”

He straightened with a casual shrug.

“This is supposed to be easy. We should just pull in and pull out like a sexually incompetent man.”

The man standing next to him dropped his head and sighed heavily.

“Commander Zeb!”

The Commander turned to his subordinate with a small frown. “Oh, Jerimoth. You don’t know how it feels? To go in and out in no time at all?” He spread his hands in mock confession. “My teens were a disaster because of this… infectious disease!”

Jerimoth’s eyes darted frantically between his Commander and the blonde-haired man who hadn’t looked up from the map once since the meeting began. Those cold blue eyes simply traced the routes marked on the paper, as if Zebelon hadn’t spoken at all.

The woman remained silent, her gaze fixed downward.

“Do you think Ryugan doesn’t already know about our presence here?”

Pyrrhus’s voice was quiet. The tent’s atmosphere dropped to that of a graveyard.

Commander Zebelon’s smirk faded slightly. He looked at the map with sudden seriousness.

“What difference does it make? Whether they know or not, we have more than they could ever dream of to destroy them.” He folded his arms. “I’m quite surprised the Fifth Prince decided to use two legions. The Nightblood would’ve been enough for this, in my opinion.”

Pyrrhus finally raised his gaze from the map. His eyes found Zebelon’s with the weight of a blade laid against bare throat.

“Who cares about your opinion?” The words came soft, almost conversational. “His Highness passed a command. Your duty is to follow it. Who the hell gave you the right to have an opinion?”

The silence that followed was cold and harmful. Commander Zebelon and his subordinates stood frozen before Lord Pyrrhus, letting his voice ring through the space like distant thunder before a storm.

Pyrrhus’s hands had been folded, a blue gem ring glinting on his middle finger. Now he unfolded his arms and leaned forward, palms flat against the table, looking down at the routes with that same cold gaze.

“But you’re right. It makes no difference whether they know or not.” His tone remained level. “We strike tonight and prepare a second force to take the city once we withdraw the first. We’ll be done by morning and return with words of victory for His Highness.”

He fixed his eyes on the Commander.

“If you truly believe your legion would have been enough, then prove it. Take Ryugan without losing a single soldier. That way, His Highness will understand he overestimated his opponent.” He paused. “But if you can’t manage that much and you lose twenty percent of your men… then I believe you should also lose twenty percent of your body.”

Commander Zebelon’s expression darkened.

“You have no right.”

Pyrrhus chuckled, a small and unpleasant sound.

“I have every right. His Highness placed you under my jurisdiction. You and that skeleton may be big boys of your own caliber, but as far as hierarchy is concerned, I’m the Prince’s Retainer, the leader of the Blue Orchid Clan, and a Count directly serving the Fifth Prince.”

Commander Zebelon’s jaw tightened. A curse climbed toward his mouth and he swallowed it back down.

Instead, he bowed his head.

“Sure. Leader of the Blue Orchid Clan, directly serving the Fifth Prince.” His voice had gone flat, stripped of its earlier crude humor. “I’ll take note of that. Think I forgot for a moment.” A humorless smile touched his lips. “Heh. Well, if you’ll excuse me, Leader of the Blue Orchid Clan, I’m going to go take a country for you. That way you can brag to your prince about how you did it all on your own.”

He turned and walked out of the tent, his subordinates falling in behind him.

Pyrrhus watched him go, his expression cold and dark, those blue eyes fixed on the tent flap long after it had fallen still.