Being a knight is not easy

Chapter 196 Night Attack
"These fools, do they think they can easily crush Viscount Wilke's territory?" The Earl's voice was deep and hoarse, tinged with schadenfreude.

His fingers tapped lightly on the railing of the watchtower, producing a dull sound.

The commander of the allied forces rode a tall horse, wearing armor inlaid with rubies, and walked majestically at the front of the column.

He raised his riding whip and shouted slogans. The soldiers' footsteps were neat and powerful, as if they could crush any obstacle in their path.

The Earl of Minnesota, however, knew that Aspen Valley in Viscount Wilke's territory was like a lurking beast, waiting for its prey to walk into its trap.

"The Wilke family's archers, and those strange long spear formations, are no mere decorations." A hint of apprehension flashed in the Earl's eyes. He recalled his crushing defeat in Poplar Valley, the deadly accuracy of the arrows, and the impenetrable defenses, which still haunted him.

"I hope you fight to the death, so I can reap the benefits and restore Minnesota's reputation."

At this moment, dark clouds filled the sky, as if foreshadowing an impending bloody storm.

The Earl of Minnesota turned and walked into the castle, ready to sit back and watch the showdown, waiting for the opportunity that would allow him to regain his footing.

Several miles outside of Baiyang Valley, the morning mist had not yet dissipated.

Viscount Rhein was clad in dark purple armor inlaid with gold iris patterns, his cloak fluttering in the cold wind. His deep gray eyes, like icy pools, were fixed on the wisp of smoke rising from the valley entrance.

He reached out and pressed his hand against the slender sword inlaid with rubies at his waist, his fingertips caressing the gilded vine patterns, a faint smile curving his lips.

"It seems that Viscount Wilke has a capable military commander by his side, who has set up sentries early on." His voice was deep and magnetic, carrying the composure of someone who had been through many battles.

The adjutant beside him gripped the reins tightly, the clanking of his armor making a soft sound: "Should we speed up the march?"

Viscount Rhine raised a hand to stop the other man from speaking, a few stray strands of hair falling from his tied-up temples and trembling slightly in the wind. "No, we must slow down and let them wait and see." He narrowed his eyes, the fine lines at the corners of his eyes seeming to conceal a thousand schemes. "Send out legendary knights to scout, without alerting the Wilke army—" As he paused, the crisp sound of his sword tapping against his armor startled a crow from the treetops. "I want to see how many troops and strong men they have."

As the command was given, a knight surrounded by silver-blue life force rode out on horseback.

He was clad in heavy armor of black iron engraved with runes, and the two greatswords on his back reflected a cold light, like the cold gleam of a drawn sword. In the blink of an eye, he transformed into a stream of light and disappeared into the dense forest of White Poplar Valley.

Viscount Rhein gazed in the direction where the knight had disappeared, his smile deepening. His dark purple cloak billowed in the wind like a surging tide, much like the turbulent waves brewing in his heart.

Viscount Rhine was born into an ancient noble family in the Middle Kingdom, with a profound family heritage and a distinguished family in the military and political fields since his ancestors.

From a young age, Rhine received a systematic and rigorous aristocratic education, demonstrating exceptional talent in military theory, tactics, and strategy.

After reaching adulthood, he joined the military, starting as a junior officer. With his outstanding leadership skills and calm, decisive decision-making ability, he quickly distinguished himself in the military.

He was adept at observing battlefield situations and seizing opportunities in rapidly changing engagements to formulate precise and effective strategies and tactics. In many past battles, he skillfully used terrain to set ambushes, achieving victories against superior numbers.
Or they might accurately grasp the enemy's weaknesses, strike decisively, achieve a victorious victory, and gain widespread fame.

In leading the allied forces to attack Viscount Wilke's territory, he was determined to win and sought to further solidify his prestige in the military field of the Central Plains.

“Five hundred elite infantry, twenty regular knights, and one grand knight.” The scout knight knelt on one knee, his silver-blue life force not yet completely dissipated, and withered leaves from the forest still clung to the gaps in his armor.

Viscount Rhein abruptly stopped spinning the gilded wine glass in his hand, his deep gray eyes narrowed slightly, and his fingertips unconsciously caressed the iris pattern on the glass.

"Is that all the troops you have?" His voice was icy cold. "Minnesota led three thousand regular troops and three hundred knights, and yet you were defeated?" Before he finished speaking, a chorus of sneers rose from the surrounding area.

"Old fool, he's really getting senile!" Count Aldrich, with his red beard, gulped down a mouthful of ale, the liquid dripping down his tangled beard. "I think he didn't lose to Wilke, he was just emboldened by his own drinking and eating habits!"

"I heard he even lost his own legendary knight?" The noblewoman wearing a pearl necklace covered her mouth and chuckled, the magic crystal bracelet on her wrist clinking crisply. "If I hadn't seen Martin's broken sword with my own eyes, I would have thought he was deliberately exaggerating the enemy's strength to cover up his own incompetence."

Viscount Rhein raised his hand to signal everyone to be quiet, and the rhythm of his fingertips tapping the table gradually overlapped with the sound of horses' hooves coming from afar.

He stared at the churning clouds in the direction of Poplar Valley, recalling the "strange long spears" and "impenetrable battle formations" described by the scout knights, and suddenly realized that this battle might not be as simple as it seemed.

As the laughter of the crowd rose again, he downed the wine in his cup in one gulp, slamming the gilded goblet heavily onto the long table: "Prepare for a night raid. Remember—underestimating the enemy is the sharpest dagger on the battlefield."

As night fell, soaking Poplar Valley in darkness, Viscount Rhein's two thousand elite infantrymen, under the cover of night, quietly approached the valley entrance.

The moonlight cast dappled silver spots on the soldiers' chainmail, like scattered stardust, but it couldn't conceal the wariness and eager fighting spirit gleaming in their eyes.

Viscount Rhein, clad in dark purple iris-patterned armor, the ruby ​​hilt of his sword gleaming faintly, raised a hand to signal his troops to halt. His deep gray eyes, sharp as a hawk's, swept across the surroundings, taking in the figures faintly visible behind the barricades. A cold smile curled at the corner of his lips: "Just a bluff. Five hundred men guarding such a long defensive line, do they really think they can scare us off?"

With his gesture, the vanguard's shield bearers slowly advanced, followed closely by the spearmen, like a giant beast poised to pounce.

The moment the first rank of soldiers stepped into the shadows at the valley entrance, a sudden change occurred!
"Whoosh—" The sound of arrows piercing the air tore through the silence as three feathered arrows pierced the throats of three shield bearers almost simultaneously.

In the darkness, a formation of long spears surged forward like a tide, their blades gleaming coldly in the moonlight.

Robin, his silver hair flying, stood high up, holding a compound pulley bow, a cold killing intent flashing in his eyes.

Each time he drew his bowstring, it was accompanied by the screams of the enemy soldiers; wherever the arrow struck, the magical shields shattered like bubbles.

When the allied forces arrived, he led another 2,500 war cavalry to Poplar Valley, accompanied by 200 crossbowmen dispatched by Viscount Wilke. These were Robin's new crossbows, which had just been put into use.

(End of this chapter)