Final Lord

Chapter 265 Ace Appearance
"Oh my god, what is this?"

Surprise attack command, a blow to morale. Undead truck charge, a second blow to morale!

The Salang Legion's entire defensive line exploded like an anthill doused with boiling water. Heavy infantry dropped their shields and fled in panic, oblivious to the iron boots trampling over the wounded; pikemen hysterically threw down their weapons and ran for their lives, as if this would allow them to escape the ever-present shadow of death.

"No retreat! Form ranks! Form ranks!" Salang's roar was drowned out by the shrill whistles of the dead. He had just smashed the deserter's throat with his scepter when he was struck and sent flying by the out-of-control carriage. His strong body arced through the air before crashing heavily to the ground.

Salang's bronze shepherd's bells hummed deathly in the chaos. The half-goat general watched helplessly as his meticulously trained legion melted away like a snowman under the blazing sun.

The soldiers pushed and trampled each other. Some were pushed into the swarm of spore flies by the half-goat people and turned into skeletons with bits of flesh hanging from them in the blink of an eye. Many more were accidentally wounded by their own weapons and fell into pools of blood, scratching their throats in vain.

The panic of defeat spread faster than the plague, and in the blink of an eye, it broke the backbone of the entire army.

This charge came at the very moment the Salang Legion relaxed its grip, shattering their morale!
It's over, all over. Salang's eyes were glazed over. Even if Viscount Hank achieved final victory, his half-goat army would be difficult to replenish.

As the first wave of impact pierced through the entire army formation, the truck's rear gate burst open with a roar.

Skeleton miners, wielding pickaxes, leaped into the crowd. These seemingly clumsy undead were incredibly powerful, able to withstand the attacks of spearmen and smash their pickaxes into the enemy's brains. Clawed ghouls bounced around the soldiers' shoulders like fleas, their poisonous claw marks causing wounds to fester and expose bone within ten seconds. And then there were the elusive, wretched ghosts, any living thing that passed through them would instantly lose thirty percent of its life force.

Salang staggered backward amidst the blood and flesh defenses desperately erected by his guards, the bronze shepherd's bell emitting a dying hum between his blood-stained fingers.

With each step his deformed hooves retreated, they left deep craters in the humus. Inside the transparent cavity of his abdomen, the liquid that had once been as clear as mead had become murky. One by one, his guards fell, shielding him from the howling pickaxes of the undead miners and the venomous claws of the ghouls.

Just as they were about to retreat to the edge of the burning mushroom forest, the scorched earth ahead suddenly exploded! Two colossal figures burst from the ground—they were Thunder Abominations, each a full three meters tall, monsters pieced together from dozens of stitched-together corpses. Crackling high-voltage currents crackled around their rotting torsos, and their rusty machetes gleamed with a chilling blue light in the arcs of electricity. The exposed muscle tissue between the stitches heaved violently with each breath, emitting a nauseating stench of burnt carcasses.

"Protect the Patriarch!" The last three guards raised their tattered shields and rushed forward, only to be blasted away by the violent electric current the moment they made contact.

Salang's ram-like eyes contracted violently, and he instinctively parried with his scepter. As his bronze scepter collided with the abomination's cleaver on his left, blinding lightning bolts shot up his arm like venomous snakes along the metal scepter, and the searing pain made him let out a heart-wrenching howl.

In the midst of the dazzling lightning, a white figure appeared like a fleeting glimpse of a startled swan. Wei Yi's twin swords, enveloped in a flurry of white feathers, pierced through the cracks in the electric arc, the feather-like sword energy swirling around the blades drawing a poignant arc in the air.

Salang felt a chill in his throat, and then the whole world suddenly fell into an eerie silence.

He saw his own blood splatter like a fountain onto Wei Yi's snow-white swordsman's uniform, the scattered crimson droplets congealing in mid-air.

The moment he knelt down, Salang's cloudy sheep eyes reflected the Pure Heart Shepherd Bell hanging from Wei Yi's waist.

This familiar treasure was the very one he had personally placed on his younger brother Sutton's waist; now it appeared there. The identity of the enemy who killed Sutton's brother was now self-evident.

Thick, sticky blood oozed from the corner of Salang's mouth. He wanted to curse, to roar, but in the end, he could only let out a series of gasping sounds before collapsing backward with endless resentment.

"Lord Hank, you must avenge me!" This was the only simple thought in Salang's mind before he died.

……

In the distance, Viscount Hank stood atop the high ground, his mink cloak fluttering in the smoke of battle. His amber eyes reflected the carnage of the battlefield, yet a cold smile played on his lips.

“Vey Gru, you’ve finally shown yourself.” Hank’s long, slender fingers lightly traced the Hydra ring, his voice like poison laced with ice. “Are these undead machines your trump card?”

He narrowed his long, thin eyes, watching the roaring steel behemoths. Skeleton-driven truck riders rampaged through the ranks, their rusted bodies covered in blood and gore. Even the well-traveled Hank had never heard of such creations, a perfect blend of the undead and machinery.

“Interesting.” Hank chuckled, his gilded riding boots crushing the pebbles at his feet. “Too bad you’re still too green. If you had been a little more patient and waited until I came off the field before releasing them, you might have given me a lot of trouble.”

But now, you've used your strongest attack to deal with the bait I threw out, so what do you have left to use against me?

Viscount Hank stood atop the smoke-filled hill, his sable cloak fluttering in the stench. He elegantly raised his right hand, gloved in black iron, a bone whistle gleaming coldly in the sunlight.

"call out--"

A sharp whistle, like a blade tearing through fabric, instantly pierced the battlefield's clamor. In the distance, four hundred Silver Thorn Knights, patrolling the outer perimeter of the monster horde, simultaneously reined in their horses, their dark silver scales reflecting a cold, flowing light in the sunlight. These elite warriors, like hounds that have caught the scent of blood, turned their horses with astonishing coordination, joining three hundred Black Iron Heavy Cavalry to form an unstoppable torrent of steel.

Hank's thin lips parted slightly, his voice as soft as a whisper, yet it sent the blood of every cavalryman racing: "Charge!"

The Silver Thorn Knight lowered his lance simultaneously, its tip gleaming deadly in the sunlight. The thorn patterns wrapped around the lance shaft suddenly began to writhe, oozing a dark red liquid as if they were alive.

[Spread Kill: Increases the attack range of the next attack based on the charge distance; the farther the charge distance, the larger the attack range.]

The Black Iron heavy cavalry let out beast-like growls, their exposed skin quickly flushed an unnatural red, and their pupils dilated to their limit.

[Bloodlust Frenzy: Attacks grant a life steal effect; excess life is converted into bonus attack speed for 60 seconds.]

This cavalry torrent, composed of two elite units, moved like a poisoned dagger, flanking the battlefield in a perfect wedge formation. The muffled thud of their iron hooves crushing the humus was like a war drum, causing the ground to tremble slightly.

“Let me see…” Hank stroked his chin with his long, slender fingers, the Hydra ring gleaming on his finger. “Which cavalry is stronger, yours or mine?”

Before he finished speaking, a sudden change occurred!
"Boom——"

(End of this chapter)