Chapter 378 - 267: The State of White Bone Fortress

In a watchtower atop the battlements of White Bone Fortress. The square room, which rose above the city wall, was typically used as an archery tower or for storing defense supplies, but now it served as a crude meeting room.

A squad of twelve Golden Armor Knights in golden capes stood guard dutifully at the door.

Anyone familiar with Debei’s top-tier military units would have little trouble recognizing the Standard Armor they wore as the famous "Gilded Casan Plate Armor." This equipment was alloyed with the special metal "Orihalcos," granting it exceptional defensive properties while weighing half as much as other Plate Armor of its type. Most importantly, its conductivity for Combat Qi was superb.

It was one of the most favored pieces of standard-issue equipment among Combat Qi Knights.

The main reason for its fame was that within all of Debei, only the Southern Territory possessed this equipment. Furthermore, due to the difficulty of forging it, the Southern Territory had only managed to produce a few thousand sets over the course of a century.

And all of this equipment was issued to the Golden Lion Group under Damon’s command.

The armor and the unit built each other’s reputations, eventually becoming renowned throughout Debei.

In some Knightly Novels, they had even become the standard entourage for the protagonist, a testament to just how famous these Golden Armor Knights were.

Yet now, these knights, who should have been in high spirits, wore faces etched with exhaustion. Their exquisite Plate Armor was covered in all manner of scars and bloodstains.

It was impossible not to wonder what sort of devastating setback these proud knights had suffered.

Inside this crude meeting room, there was no sand table or map—only several Physicians, sweating profusely as they tended to a burly, middle-aged man sitting in a chair.

A deep voice, like a lion’s rumble, broke the silence. "Did Lancelot and his men break through the blockade?"

Standing nearby was a handsome young man in a Feather Hat. He was fiddling with a palm-sized, crystal-like object in his hands. Hearing the question, he replied in a disheartened tone, "Lord Lancelot led the Griffin Knights only a few dozen li out before they were driven back by that horde of Flomos. There are just too many of them."

After speaking, he added in a low, poetic tone, "Evil has blotted out the sky, and the sun can no longer shine upon the land."

The golden-haired, middle-aged man said nothing more. After a period of silence, he spoke again. "Get me a bottle of brandy."

The Physicians exchanged glances, but finally had to pour a shallow glass. With a GULP, he drained it in one go. "More."

"My lord, you’re covered in wounds! Even though you’ve just received Treatment from the Saintess, your injuries are still severe. Your body absolutely cannot handle this," the Physicians pleaded.

"I don’t want to repeat myself." His voice was calm, devoid of any anger, but it was like the growl of a male lion—though wounded and ill, his authority was still absolute and unassailable.

"Lord Damon, please forgive my rudeness." The handsome young man at his side couldn’t watch any longer. He snatched the bottle and set it on the table. "If drinking could solve our current predicament, I wouldn’t hesitate to down ten bottles myself."

"You are the backbone of everyone here. If you sink into despair, what will become of the soldiers and officers?"

"Mudehan," said Damon, his burly frame wrapped in bandages, a note of resignation in his voice. "Drinking helps clear my head, keeps me from getting muddled by all this, and prevents my judgment from being clouded."

He pointed to his head.

But no matter how he explained, Mudehan remained firm. "This is for your own good. The little bit you just drank is the most I am willing to concede."

The Physicians, taking the hint, immediately left the room, afraid of being caught in the crossfire.

The air grew heavy for several long moments before Damon finally relented. "How about you walk with me outside?"

"As you wish." Mudehan nodded, letting out a sigh of relief.

The knights outside the door immediately looked with reverence toward their lord as he emerged.

"What’s the status of that Demon horde?"

"According to Master Bodoff, their losses were severe. They probably won’t be able to organize another attack in the short term," the knight captain replied, before adding with concern, "My lord, you were just injured. You should be resting."

Damon waved his hand dismissively, offering no explanation. He walked with Mudehan to the top of the wall and gazed into the distance.

As the first line of defense on the Southern Territory’s border, White Bone Fortress was a castle built upon a plain.

Before them stretched a boundless plain that extended all the way to a mountain range straddling the Holy Sith Kingdom and Debei.

In years past, the Lizardman rebels would have long since retreated by this time of year, and the plains, nourished by flesh and blood, would be abloom with colorful wild chrysanthemums.

But now, the ground below the fortress had become a dark red swamp. Soaked in countless streams of blood, the earth had turned into a treacherous mire.

Yet not a single corpse could be seen. About ten li from the walls, countless plumes of cooking smoke rose into the air. All sorts of bizarre monsters held hands, hopping and skipping joyfully around bubbling cauldrons filled with bobbing limbs, roaring in some unknown language.

The most common features among these monsters were the sharp, pointed tails on their backs and, for most, a pair of crimson horns on their heads.

Their numbers were immense; they had completely surrounded White Bone Fortress.

"Mudehan, do you also think my decision back then was a terrible mistake?"

Damon spoke suddenly, his eyes fixed on the dense Demon encampments stretching across the horizon.

His life could be called Legendary. In his youth, his pride and arrogance had earned him the title of Rogue Knight.