You were made to farm, and now you're the emperor of an empire?

Chapter 382 Who else could it be but them?
As the red sun gradually disappeared on the horizon, the captured mercenaries staggered forward in the afterglow of the setting sun, forming a long line, their figures disheveled, as they stumbled along.

The Black Iron Alliance lost.

This massive war, which had been in preparation for months and involved the majority of the Black Iron Army, ended in a swift and decisive defeat.

No one can understand the current situation.

Jorah couldn't accept the truth either!
Because the fact is that Roman delivered a left front kick and a right whip kick, and the army of hundreds of thousands immediately collapsed.

He was a mercenary and no stranger to war, but after fighting for half his life, he had never seen anything like this.

The King of the Valley personally led his army into battle, sweeping through the strongest central force with unstoppable momentum. The eldest son of the Raging Tide was like a toddler learning to walk before the King of the Valley, losing inexplicably and before he could even react, his main force was scattered by the rout.

Jorah was unaware of the specifics.

They marched at full speed, racing against time, trying to capture the City of Abundance before the blasphemers returned home.

Even if they encounter resistance and obstacles along the way, it is to be expected. Experienced mercenaries are best at burning, killing, and looting, and a little resistance will only excite them more.

However, the resistance in Plenty City was completely different from that in other towns.

After the main force of mercenaries encountered obstacles, they found themselves in a precarious situation.

The combat skills of the River Valley Army greatly impressed all the mercenaries.

Are you really risking your lives? How much money do you get for each battle?
He had never seen an army where the commander-in-chief died, and the remaining soldiers not only did not scatter, but continued to fight under the leadership of mid-level generals.

Morale was so high it was incomprehensible and despairing!

However, they were ultimately few in number.

This is a tower defense game; the mercenaries win as long as they can take down the flag of Plenty City…

If the Blasphemer's return speed isn't that fast.

That central army is less than 50,000 pigs!
The blasphemers had barely defeated Macol when they turned and charged back—the young ruler was truly like a hurricane.

When Esther and his companions saw the dozen or so white knights galloping towards them from afar, they knew it was all over.

The island's master did not surrender immediately and was beheaded by the White Steel Princess. Seeing that there was no hope of breaking through, he, Jorah the Wildcat, dismounted on the spot and raised his hands in front of the White Knights.

Mercenaries are adept at assessing situations. With his armor and equipment, he has no chance against the White Knight.

Defeat does not mean death, but only becoming a prisoner of war or a slave... He had heard about the blasphemers killing prisoners of war. The Lord of the Valley was cruel by nature and could ruthlessly suppress all those who disobeyed.

But he is a sixth-tier knight, a valuable asset in combat.

He had no faith, but that didn't stop him from swearing to the gods that he could get rid of his current situation given the right opportunity.

At this moment, the sun has just set, and night has not yet fallen; in the distance are farmlands.

Spring has passed, and the wheat seedlings are lush and green, with distinct furrows and rows, possessing a kind of regular beauty, more verdant and dense than any farmland he has ever seen.

The mercenaries originally intended to trample this land, bringing fire, blades, and slaughter.

But when they actually arrived on this land, they brought only heavy shackles and chains, and were driven to wait anxiously on this open space for Lord Roman's judgment.

This situation made him feel extremely bad, second only to the Scarlet Witch he had faced before.

Just then, Jorah vaguely heard the sounds of a commotion.

He glanced over and saw a black-haired girl standing there, leading a small donkey, talking to the soldiers guarding the prisoners of war.

……

"Isn't Roman here?" Gervir asked.

The guard replied, "Lady Gweil, His Highness has left. He has many things to attend to." "Is he alright? I'm a little worried about him."

"Your Highness is safe. It's getting dark, you should go back to the castle. Your safety is just as important."

Gweil sighed softly. She had come here to bless the cotton fields of the City of Abundance.

Although the war was won, it did not stop, so production could not stop either.

This is a protracted battle.

After she finished blessing the prisoners, she came to this prisoner-of-war camp, hoping to witness Roman escorting the prisoners in triumph, but unfortunately she was too late.

Gweil's gaze swept over the prisoners in the open space; there were probably seventy or eighty of them.

However, as time went on, the number of prisoners continued to increase.

Not far away, another team returned.

The guard routinely asked, "Who are you?"

“We are from the militia.” The man raised his light crossbow. “We encountered these beasts while on patrol and shot five of them dead. There are seven left alive, and we’ve brought them to you.”

"Is it tied up?"

"Tie them up tightly!"

"Alright, leave it here. You guys continue your patrol. It's getting dark, so take a few more torches. Some scum don't know the situation yet. They sneaked in and will definitely cause trouble. The safety of this area depends on you."

The militia captain patted his chest and said, "You risk your lives on the front lines, so leave this to us!"

They came and went.

The city of Plenty is extremely large, with vast fields and scattered settlements. Mercenaries roam the wilderness and are very likely to launch small-scale attacks on settlements. The militia is the last line of defense for Plenty.

As night deepened, the guard who had been talking to Gweil suddenly shouted, "Don't move!"

Gweil turned her head and saw many prisoners of war lying or sitting on the open ground. One person who stood up stood out from the crowd.

The man was thin, with a long face, messy hair, and a slight hunchback. His green eyes gleamed in the night, like an old and cunning wildcat.

Jorah said, "I just came to say a few words to this distinguished lady... Well, as you wish, I won't go over."

"Of course you can't come over here! You son of a bitch! I'll beat you back!" The guard strode over and beat him until his head bled.

“Sir, please don’t do this. I have money. I have money in my shoe…” Jorah curled up on the ground, feigning weakness and appearing harmless. “Take it quietly, and no one will know.”

"Pah! Who wants your filthy money!" the guard said, then turned to the girl and said, "Lady Gweil, stay away from them. These people are notorious mercenaries!"

Gweil was surprised and said, "Are they mercenaries?"

"Who else could it be but them?" the guard said with disgust. "His Highness said that they do not engage in production, only know how to kill, and live a more comfortable life than farmers who till the land!"

The latter protested, saying, "We're just doing our jobs for money."

"You are taking advantage of the situation to commit evil!"

Gweil asked curiously, "Why do you want to be mercenaries?"

“We can’t survive without doing this, Miss. Go ask the executioners. Are they born to enjoy executing others? I can only say it’s their duty. Mercenaries have no sense of good or evil. You pay us to do good deeds, and we do good deeds. But for thousands of years, no one has ever paid someone to do good deeds. When those big shots hire us to fight, the decision has never been in the hands of mercenaries. That’s how the world is. And now, that decision is in your and Lord Roman’s hands,” Jora pleaded in a low voice.

The old stray cat, its hair disheveled, lay on the ground struggling, its face covered in blood, looking quite pitiful.

(End of this chapter)