Chapter 304 - 230: Don’t Blame the Road for Being Uneven (Part 2)

Behind them, the contingent from High Cliff Castle stood silent as stone.

An exquisite banner was raised, its design of a burning black mountain and a sun radiating a blinding light fluttering in the wind.

"My men are almost all cavalry, so they can’t be of much help here. Just count me in."

Count Andao donned his Iron Helmet and drew his Longsword.

This Count, whose arm was perpetually itchy from an overload of Combat Qi, was clearly no spineless coward. His Combat Qi Cultivation was likely a cut above even Tess’s.

Seeing two nobles join the fray, Tess cursed and put his helmet back on. "Dammit, I’m no coward either!"

He was curious to see just how this Lord of High Cliff Castle, this Lion Hunter Knight, intended to deal with those three Casters.

"Full charge!"

The Lord bellowed.

There was nothing more to be said. The wall was already breached, and the enemy had no time to plug the gap. They would simply follow in the footsteps of the last attack and push their way inside.

Where his Longsword pointed, the rhythmic thud of marching feet arose.

...

"Father, it’s those Beastmen! They’re coming up!"

Beck said in a panic, watching the dark Warriors in the distance.

Regulo didn’t blame his son for his lack of composure; he couldn’t expect the boy to remain stoic in the face of an avalanche. His own heart was heavy as lead.

These Heavy Armored Warriors stood nearly three Tri-Blades tall on average. They were clad head-to-toe in black Heavy Armor that reflected a chilling glint, their faces completely obscured. Every synchronized step was like a sledgehammer pounding against his chest.

They surged forward like a black torrent.

If he hadn’t seen them without their armor before, Regulo would have mistaken them for the Holy Sith Kingdom’s Magical Creatures—the Iron Man.

Of course, this was just an absurd fantasy brought on by the shock of the moment. Even if the wealth of the Holy Sith Kingdom was known to all, such complex Magical Creations certainly numbered no more than a hundred.

The formation of these giants was so perfectly ordered they seemed like mindless Magical Creations.

Once the battle on the front lines began, the tallest soldiers of the Southern Territory only came up to their opponents’ waists. It was like a bunch of potatoes mixed in with pumpkins; the difference in strength was obvious at a glance.

Their numbers were less than a fifth of the last attacking force, only about four hundred in total—so few you could take them all in at a single glance.

But Regulo knew this was just a surface impression.

A tiger doesn’t hunt in a pack, but its power is undeniable.

"Should I intervene?" Clamo asked, his expression unchanged.

He was a powerful Caster. A single spell from him could reap lives wantonly; their so-called Iron Armor would be no tougher than paper to him. This new enemy force was indeed elite enough to make even him take notice, but that was as far as it went.

Unless the enemy had Casters of their own, it would be nearly impossible for them to counter a Magic that amazed even himself.

And what if they had a Knight with profound Combat Qi Cultivation?

The old adage still held true: only Magic can fight Magic.

If Combat Qi Knights could truly stand against Mages, then it wouldn’t be Mages who held such a revered status.

"Wait a little longer." Regulo’s red beard trembled, but he still wanted his own soldiers to wear down the enemy first.

Undeniably, the enemy was elite, but his soldiers weren’t made of straw. They could surely inflict some casualties, slow their advance, and allow the Magic to achieve its maximum effect.

But in the next moment, the turn of events on the battlefield made the Baron wonder if he was trapped in some surreal dream.

At their commander’s bellowed order, the Archers positioned on the rooftops of Kalia Town began to fire in volleys. But after only two rounds, they were forced to stop.

The enemy’s Heavy Armor was so exquisitely crafted it was infuriating. Arrows that could normally pierce a wild boar’s hide simply clattered against it, leaving behind nothing but a barely perceptible white scratch.

Their efforts were as misplaced as pouring all of one’s energy into being forceful in bed, only to ignore stamina and end up defeated in five heartbeats.

A complete misapplication of effort.

In contrast, the performance of the enemy Archers was enough to make one question their own existence.

These Archers, clad in Light Armor and wielding Purple Robe Longbows, took their positions at one hundred and fifty paces. It was one thing that they could shoot from so far, but their accuracy was also impeccable—they never seemed to miss.

In a period of free-fire lasting just a hundred heartbeats, they picked off every Warrior on the rooftops who dared to trade shots with them. Those who remained were all cowering behind the roofs, refusing to stick their heads out no matter how their commander roared.

It seemed they had resolved to be cowards for the day.

If the Archers were merely shot into an existential crisis, then the Kalia Infantry Corps, facing the leaders of High Cliff Castle head-on, were living a complete and utter nightmare.

The street leading to the Baron Castle was wide, a full twenty paces across, but it seemed like a narrow alley in comparison to the towering Centaur.

He was clad head-to-toe in Heavy Armor; even his massive hooves were encased in thick leg plates.

The Double-Bladed Broadsword he wielded was like a city gate smashing down on them. Each swing forced several soldiers to say a final farewell to their previously inseparable lower halves.

His monstrous size and lethality dealt an unparalleled blow to the morale of the common soldiers.

Their commanders obviously wouldn’t sit idly by and watch this happen. Soon, several Knights, confident in their superb Martial Arts and profound Combat Qi, charged forward to intercept him.

But within a matter of breaths, they paid the price for their recklessness. Before they could even get close, they were struck by a volley of Thunderbolt Arrows infused with the Thunder Element and burned to charcoal, emitting the faint smell of cooked meat.

The lethality of a few of the shorter figures was also terrifying. As the Beastman Warriors charged forward, swinging their War Axes, the Kalia infantry defending the front line were cut down like stalks of wheat, reaped wantonly row by row.

They fell so quickly that the men behind them had no time to react before they too followed in their wake.

The soldiers of Kalia looked upon them as if they were a pack of Demons. Their will to fight was gone, replaced by pure terror. Some even pissed themselves in fear, the liquid quickly freezing to ice in their breeches, causing them to tremble like leaves in the wind.

Regulo realized how foolish his earlier thinking had been. The enemy elites were like Warriors from ancient times; the only purpose his own soldiers served was to add to their opponent’s glorious list of battle achievements.

He gave a bleak smile, unable to understand why an army with such elite Warriors would bother to attack his small, helpless farming town.

"Master Clamo, I’m counting on you!"

As the Casters departed, he turned to look for his son, intending to tell him to flee. But Beck was nowhere in sight. Rushing to the platform edge, his eyes fell upon a squad of Knights initiating a charge. In that instant, his vision went black.

...

With soaring war cries, the Beastman Warriors surged forward like a black torrent, their advance unstoppable.

The enemy’s carefully formed spear wall was as effective as cotton wool, shattering in an instant.

"Hold the line! Hold them back!" The enemy commander screamed himself hoarse, but his cries only added to the cacophony of the battlefield, achieving nothing.

Levi led the charge at the very front. The soldiers were packed so densely in the street that with a single, savage swing of his Giant Sword, a dozen heads simultaneously took flight, separating from their necks as if they were in zero gravity.

This utterly terrifying display prompted the few lucky survivors at the front to instantly drop their weapons and fall to their knees. With more soldiers packed tightly behind them, their only hope for survival was to surrender.

That first knee hitting the ground seemed to trigger a chain reaction. A rustling wave of sound followed as more men knelt, instantly exposing the enforcement squad at the rear, who were still roaring and brandishing their greatswords.

As the Lord’s gaze fell upon them, they too fell to their knees with a THUD. Their decisiveness was such that even the Lord had to admire it.

Without a doubt, their morale had been shattered by the massacre.

"Fuck," the Lord muttered, glancing around. Every Kalia soldier in sight was kneeling. Even the officers at the front, who had seemed so resolute, proved no more resilient than the common grunts.

"The Durant Family never gives up!"

Just then, a furious roar echoed from the distance.