Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence - Chapter 612 - 361: Blood-Red Fireworks (Part 2)
Chapter 612: Chapter 361: Blood-Red Fireworks (Part 2)
His movements were swift and ruthless, targeting the weaknesses of the knights’ guards, slashing throats, stabbing hearts, and slicing necks, each strike completed amidst a flash of blood.
Just as he was about to approach a knight from behind once more, he suddenly looked up.
In that moment, he saw the destructive firelight, five entire extraordinary warriors swallowed in an instant.
Wulu froze, his mind blank.
’That is… Carl… they were all our strongest… how could one person wipe them all out?!’
Wulu’s heart almost fell into the abyss, his hand gripping the dagger trembling.
At that moment, he finally understood that their so-called perfect assault was nothing but a joke.
The reason the Barbarian Race dared to gamble their last breath was because they thought Frost Dragon Territory lacked high-end combat strength.
Their advantage lay in the number of strong warriors.
But Louis, single-handedly broke all these premises.
The glow of the fire illuminated Wulu’s terrified face, and he murmured, “A young noble… how could he possess such power…”
The hope in his eyes was extinguishing bit by bit.
In the distance, the light of the fire drew more attention.
The panicked screams gradually merged into a noisy cacophony, the entire estate shrouded in that unusual aura.
Amidst the chaos, Astha lifted his head, looking towards that firelight.
Even through the fireworks, he could see the figure of that young lord, calm and stern, like a monument standing firm in the storm.
He should have been afraid, yet at that moment, the first reaction in his chest was anger and jealousy.
“It’s him again… everyone’s eyes are on him. Even this attack has become his stage…”
And his thoughts were immediately interrupted by the shouts of slaughter.
The guards shouted, “Your Highness, be careful! They’re closing in!”
Six extraordinary Barbarian warriors quickly approached in the chaotic estate, aided by the firelight and smoke.
Blood and firelight flickered on their armor, their fighting energy a dark blue, carrying a cold and violent murderous aura.
Beside Astha were over a dozen personal guard knights, three of whom were extraordinary knights, and one of whom was the elderly Sai Fu.
This old man once served as the deputy corps commander of the Imperial Sixth Legion and was also Astha’s mentor.
Sai Fu’s sword-drawing action remained precise, an instinct of an old general seasoned on the battlefield.
Golden fighting energy ignited on him, like burning flames, as if he had returned to the past battle array of the Imperial Sixth Legion.
Though his strength had waned, that momentum still instinctively slowed the Barbarian warriors’ pace.
“Your Highness, fall back!” he roared, the golden fighting energy exploded on him like burning flames.
The six Barbarian warriors charged in like beasts, blue fighting energy clashing with golden light, causing the air to tremble.
Sparks and blood flames intertwined, a piercing sound of blades cutting through the air came from the end of the corridor.
The first wave of impact, three personal guards were torn apart, blood splattering on the stone wall.
The second wave of impact, Sai Fu faced the leader, golden light burst, consuming each other with blue flames, causing the air to crack into an ear-piercing roar.
“Go—!”
Astha stumbled back, his eyes full of terror and twisted resentment.
He could not understand why the Barbarian Race appeared here, why they wanted to kill him?
Clearly, he planned this attack as part of the Red Tide operation?!
Yet on the edge of fear, a more vile thought flashed through his mind.
If he could let Sai Fu, let the personal guards delay them for a moment, he could escape, wait for the knight support from the perimeter.
“Block them! Go—!” he screamed, his voice shattered.
The pride and royal dignity of bygone days were long gone, replaced by naked survival instinct.
The six Barbarian warriors burned with fighting energy, growing braver with battle, like beasts out of control.
In less than ten seconds, the knights fell one by one, their blood staining the stone bricks.
Yet in the chaos, Astha staggered and fled, slipping on the blood beneath his feet, his eyes seeing only himself.
Sai Fu roared again, meeting two warriors, sword blade tearing the air, golden light and blue flames weaving into arcs of destruction.
Moments later, with a dull boom, Sai Fu was struck, slammed into the wall heavily, blood sprayed from his mouth.
“Your Highness! Go!” Sai Fu strained to shout, his voice swallowed by the firelight.
As Astha turned back, his gaze was cold and fearful, his face showing no hesitation, only unmasked terror and cowardice.
He did not even look at Sai Fu, but instinctively growled, “Stop them! You worthless lot, stop them!”
Then he turned and pushed away an injured personal guard, using him as a shield, while he desperately retreated.
Blood slid under his feet, he almost crawled and stumbled away from the firelight.
Sai Fu half-kneeled in the rubble, blood trickling down his sword blade, his gaze locked firmly on Astha’s retreating figure.
He was not surprised by Astha’s escape, he knew long ago this young man was unworthy of being called a king, but still hoped to see this young man he watched grow up escape.
Astha surrounded by six Barbarian warriors amidst chaos and flames, shrieked wildly, his eyes filled with madness and unwillingness.
He kept shouting, “Save me!”
But those around had long scattered, the bodies of his personal guards piled at his feet.
In the next second, a war axe swept across, Astha’s chest was cleaved open, a mist of blood shot skyward.
He fell to the ground, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth, his hands still reaching forward in vain.
In his eyes reflected the figure of Louis, that youth calm amidst the flames like a god.
Jealousy, venom, and deep unwillingness flashed in his gaze.
As his breathing ceased, his pupils were fixed on that direction, as if wanting to etch that figure into his soul.
Sai Fu stared at the scene, his whole body turning rigid.
Blood red reflected in his eyes, tears and blood mingling, trickling down his sideburns, softly murmuring, “It has finally come to this step, after all…”
Meanwhile, across the entire estate, chaos spread faster.
The garden’s fountain long shattered, water and blood forming shallow puddles.
Nobility and servants fleeing tripped over each other, someone fell into the pool, struggling desperately.
A few maidservants and attendants dashed towards the hallways inside the house, trying to avoid the fire, only to be trapped by collapsing beams.
Guards outside shouted “Get inside quickly!”
Barbarian roars fluctuated in the night, their fighting energy flickering in the dark red firelight.
Some hid in side rooms, some rushed into servant quarters, doors shattered, cries and cries for help echoed back and forth.
The whole estate inside and out became a burning maze, no corner was safe.
The banquet hall spewed heat waves and dust, wails, roars, and the clash of weapons intertwined, even walls cracked under the fierce fighting energy collisions.
The firelight turned the night sky red, blood and flames in the city intertwined into a hellish scene, less than ten minutes since the Barbarians stormed the feast.
It was then that the sound of warhorses roared from the south gate direction.
The Red Tide Knight Order, commanded by Lambert, resembled an iron flood returned from hell, horses crushing accumulated snow, iron hooves thundering.
Fighting energy burned in the night, like crimson flames, lances shimmering cold, the knights formed an array like a tide.
They resembled divine beings descended from the heavens, draped in red cloaks, fighting energy flowing between battle armors, the firelight made them shine like gods.
“Charge—!” Lambert roared.
The Knight Order swept forward like a flood, lances stabbing out, blade light slicing through flames.
Each clash erupted in the piercing sound of metal, the Barbarian roars drowned by the roar of Red Tide fighting energy.
Red flames and blue fighting energy tangled in the night sky into a magnificent turbulent stream.
The Red Tide Knights’ line pressed in like a wall of fire, forcibly tearing apart the Barbarian formation.
Lambert wielded his longsword, a sweeping strike sent fighting energy surging like a storm, several Barbarians were flung away, blood spilled on the spot.
Reaching Louis, Lambert dismounted, blood still dripping from his armor.
He knelt on one knee, speaking softly, “My lord, I arrived late.”
Louis gazed at the night sky lit by fire, his voice deep, “Gather the net, leave a few important people, kill the rest.”
The nobility watched this scene, as if witnessing a miracle.
They looked at the Red Tide banner, at the young lord standing firm amidst the flames, sobbing uncontrollably.
