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

Chapter 406 What doesn't kill him makes him stronger!

In the second year after the collapse of the Conqueror's Order, the entire land was afflicted by a new curse—a curse called the Blasphemer.

The lords of the land are not cowardly, nor are the knights of war ever afraid.

But when they rode their warhorses and gazed at the mountain of corpses in the distance, they lingered for a long time and did not go forward.

Even the resolute Commander Macol remained silent.

In this silent, fearful, and oppressive atmosphere, the earth trembled slightly, and the intense light in the sky dimmed.

A flag gradually emerged from the ridgeline, growing taller and longer.

The flag bearer waved it.

That's the emblem of the thorny iron ring!
More valley warriors emerged from both sides, marching in unison, spreading like a tide.

Their formation was orderly, and they were lightly armed, without armor. Only a few knights accompanied them, wearing silver-white armor that, when reflected by the sunlight, emitted a bright moonlight, pure and noble.

But at the very front row, there were 'black irons' arranged in a line like a city wall, stealing all the glory from the scene.

Literally, it means to take away all the glory.

They stood tall on the earth, clad in heavy armor, absorbing all the light in the world; even the Silver Moon Armor paled in comparison.

“Ionus…”

It's unclear when it started, but the Black Irons (a group of fans) began singing in unison.

"The Iron King has departed, but his poems are still sung."

"His heroic figure shines in the sky, amidst the boundless brilliance of the stars."

"Once you ventured to the Dark Sea, where do you now sleep?"

"Life dissolves, the soul perishes, the will roams..."

That was a lament.

The music played by the Black Irons was incredibly poignant.

But in stark contrast, their momentum grew stronger.

Legendary black metal, forged with secret techniques, is acknowledged by all conquering knights as the most comprehensive, balanced, and enduring armor in the entire land.

That jet-black metal can absorb external energy, replenish the wearer, and prolong the combat state.

It can also enhance the latter's defense, speed, and attack.

As a result, the blazing sunlight from the sky fell upon this wilderness, and a significant portion of the sunlight was absorbed by their armor.

The brightness of that space has noticeably decreased!
The strongest troops and the foundation of the nation that once followed Ionus have fully demonstrated their prowess in this battle!
Macol's face was rough and his expression was like a rock, but his heart was filled with turbulent waves.

However, Black Iron rarely performs at his peak; he didn't show this level of performance back in the Pegasus Plains.

He was also on the battlefield at that time, leading the Storm Riders in an attack on the outer perimeter. The situation was chaotic, and he still remembers that day with its chilling autumn wind and dark clouds...

Dark clouds gathered...

Markel looked up at the sky with a grim expression. The sun was blindingly bright, and his deep, dark eyes narrowed, filled with intense emotions.

"Sun!" the Son of the Raging Tide cursed.

His face was contorted with rage, some of his rough skin peeled off, and his seaweed-like hair resembled that of a sea monster as he issued commands.

"Ready for battle!!"

More than ten minutes later.

The two armies clashed.

Black Iron strode forward, wielding his heavy, broad Black Iron Greatsword.

Wherever they passed, the space darkened, the temperature dropped, like the arrival of a cold death, slaughtering everything in their path, leaving nothing but decay. It perfectly recreated the glorious splendor of following Ionus over a hundred years ago.

Makoll's vanguard was immediately met with a merciless massacre.

This was the beginning of a major defeat.

However, the Black Iron was not the decisive factor in this battle.

Despite their strength, the Black Iron faction faces a tough challenge when confronted with highly defensive units clad in cloth, leather, and chainmail—these units don't require exceptional physical prowess; simply being able to walk while wearing dozens of kilograms of armor is sufficient.

Black Iron can easily slay highly armored mortal units with a swing of his sword, but it takes strength to cut through cloth armor and break through chainmail. External energy replenishment isn't enough either; the energy reserves aren't long enough, and he'll soon find himself running out of resources.

The heavy armor gives them a strong sense of security. If you send twenty or thirty of these highly defensive units at once, the various burdens and obstacles will make it difficult for the Dark Iron faction to advance.

Once his physical strength is exhausted, his death will be imminent.

But after the last defeat... most people have a natural fear of the River Valley Army—they've been traumatized by the defeat.

A single point can break through the entire enemy lines, leading to a complete and utter defeat!
Markel's eyes were filled with malice; he realized that all was lost once again.

Last time he lost inexplicably, he was eliminated before he could even unleash 80% of his potential, but this time the loss was obvious.

First, there's the issue of morale. Second, they were traveling under the scorching sun, and their condition was extremely poor.

When the army marched along the Black Iron Road and saw the mountains of corpses and graves, their courage was already greatly diminished. Even the encouragement of the gods couldn't quell it—the horrific tragedy was right before their eyes, and who knew if the gods could snatch their souls back from the clutches of the blasphemers?

The enemy stood before the mountain of corpses, their faces pale, their morale plummeting to rock bottom.

Roman's troops stationed in the nearby valley had nothing to fear.

Because the graves were built by their own hands, the previous enemies had already turned into bones in the clay, and the later enemies would be buried here again.

……

Roman stared at the long list of supplies in his hand with a look of annoyance, and almost cursed out loud.

This is the second time this year!

That's fucking shameless!
They're impossible to kill and impossible to shake off, they're absolutely disgusting!

He had to prepare a lot of supplies, and just mobilizing personnel was troublesome—there was no other way, war was full of risks, and he had to think of all the contingencies—the worst-case scenario was that the River Valley Army and the Black Iron Alliance were fighting head-on, while the pirates led the dragons to ambush him, a young man, from behind.

What did he do wrong? He had to fight against the heavens, the earth, and man, all while also guarding against the dragon in the sky?

I really don't want to waste my precious time and energy on this meaningless war!

All I really want to do is farm, mine and smelt, train people, build houses, dig ditches and canals, and irrigate farmland.

The land is so dry, why are you thinking about war instead of irrigating it?

Are these bastards even human?!

Roman scratched his head in frustration, his mind racing as he pondered the difficult problem.

Shasta rarely saw him like this; she knew it was due to lack of rest. Everything was piling up on him, and the preparations for war were causing him even more anxiety.

In the past, he was usually confident of victory and wise and mighty. Now he was so angry that he wanted to kill people to vent his anger. But as a lord, he could not act on his emotions. He had to set an example and make those fools feel at ease.

You can only control your emotions; even if you can't, you still have to!

I feel so wronged!

The pressure from all sides was threatening to destroy him. "Who can help him, save him? Even just a little help would be appreciated, Lady Isabella," the attendant thought. "Why can't she do anything?"

"Your Highness?" The servant brought another person to see him.

The newcomer was covered in dust, with chapped lips, dark skin, and a foul odor of sweat.

"What's wrong now!" he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. His deep-set eyes were dark and bruised, his face heavy and sullen, and his eyes looked like two wounds, their redness as scorching as the sun's venomous light.

"The barrier between ice and fire has been breached!" the construction foreman exclaimed, eager to share the good news.

Roman paused, his furrowed brows relaxing for a moment. "Thank you for your hard work," he said.

"We're not tired at all."

"Shut up! What I say goes!"

Roman got up and paced back and forth in the hall, silently making up his mind.

This means that a major project has been completed, allowing us to move on to the next phase of the plan, six months ahead of schedule.

He invested over a thousand laborers in that pass, and now he has recovered most of it.

He had to thank Felicia for this. Although they were gone, he vowed to repay the sisters; he always had a strong sense of right and wrong.

The surplus labor force also found its future purpose at this moment: digging ditches, building waterwheels, and, of course, ensuring the absolute safety of the logistics granaries.

The external environment is extremely bad right now; this is the most difficult and painful period he has experienced since becoming a lord.

Roman experienced no joy in this arduous struggle.

He didn't have such a lofty ideal of life.

He just wanted to experience the exhilarating feeling of standing in the sky and on the strong earth.

External factors cannot be changed; the only thing that can be changed is oneself—but there's no need to change it! His path has remained unchanged from beginning to end!

The only option is to steadfastly move forward according to the predetermined plan; otherwise, it will not be considered a betrayal of yourself!

Having been born into this world, it is only natural that one would want to change the world and bear more pressure.

This was a last resort, and also a consequence of their own actions.

It's his own fault for refusing to back down. If he had gone along with the corrupt practices earlier, he wouldn't be being suppressed by all sides now. With his extraordinary intelligence, he would have been thriving long ago.

But he was on stilts, and he looked down on everyone with equal contempt.

But he considers himself superior and refuses to kneel down.

It's just one mine attacking ten mines!
Let me show you what it means to be destined by heaven!
What doesn't kill him makes him stronger!

(End of this chapter)