Being a knight is not easy

Chapter 213 Ghost General
The setting sun, like blood, stained the wooden walls of Viscount Wilke's territory red.

Robin's army returned with heavy steps, the boots of four thousand slave soldiers echoing dully on the stone road, like a silent triumphant march.

Viscount Wilke stood on the castle's high platform, his fingertips lightly tracing the rim of a wine glass, his gaze sweeping over the masked man at the end of the procession.

The man walked with a steady gait, yet subtly maintained a distance from the surrounding slave soldiers, like a shadow detached from reality.

"Whose face is behind the mask...?"

The viscount narrowed his eyes, but in the end he only took a sip of red wine and asked nothing.

Some secrets are dangerous if you know them too early.

“Andysu.” Robin’s voice interrupted the Viscount’s thoughts. “Take the slave soldiers to the training ground and teach them the ‘rules’.”

Andy Su grinned, revealing uneven, yellow teeth: "Yes, sir."

Robin turned and walked toward the castle, the blood and mud on his boots leaving dark red footprints on the steps.

Half a fingernail was still stuck in the gap of his armor, a trace of the last struggle of a legendary knight.

Inside the hall, candlelight flickered.

Robin knelt on one knee, his blood-stained cloak hanging down on the marble floor, dark red like congealed scabs. His voice was steady and powerful, yet carried a hint of barely perceptible coldness.

“Father, I have lived up to your expectations.” He raised his head, a slight smile playing on his lips. “The allied forces of the Central Plains nobles have been completely annihilated.”

Viscount Wilke sat in a high-backed chair, his knuckles tapping lightly on the armrest, his eyes gleaming with ecstatic joy.

He had already received a secret report from his scouts that the battle had not only killed thousands of enemies, but also captured thousands of sets of armor, tens of thousands of weapons of various kinds, and mountains of grain, enough to support a large army for several months.

"Good! Good! Good!" The Viscount said "good" three times in a row, his wrinkles smoothing out like dry tree bark being moistened by rain. He stood up and patted Robin's shoulder hard. The armor under his palm was cold and hard, but it made him feel extremely at ease.

"As expected of my son!" The viscount laughed, his voice echoing throughout the stone hall. "After this battle, the Wilke family's reputation will surely resound throughout the entire Western Territory!"

Robin smiled slightly, but his eyes remained completely calm.

“Father, I entrust the governance of the territory to you.” He slowly rose, his armor creaking softly. “From now on, I will continue to wage war and expand the territory for the family.”

He spoke the last four words very softly, yet they were like a sharp dagger, silently piercing the air.

Viscount Wilke, oblivious to anything amiss, remained basking in the joy of victory.

He turned and walked toward the fireplace, took out an old parchment map from a hidden compartment, and slowly unfolded it on the table.

“Allen, look—” His fingertip traced several fortresses marked on the map, “Blackrock Fortress, Ash Canyon, Ironspine Mountains… Sooner or later, the Wilke family flag will fly over these places!”

Robin's gaze fell on the place names, and his lips twitched almost imperceptibly.

“No, Father… I want much more than this.”

Outside the window, a jet-black crow landed on the window frame, its blood-red eyes reflecting the image of the father and son inside the hall.

In the shadows, Viscount Rhine, the man wearing a bronze mask, stood silently, like a wordless ghost.

Beneath the bronze mask lies the Rhine.

No, now we should call him "Luo Yin". He
Their gazes silently followed the father and son.

When Viscount Wilke patted Robin on the shoulder, his knuckles trembled slightly with excitement, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes held undisguised pride.

Although Robin's expression was cold, he did not avoid his father's hand.

"What... disgusting tenderness."

Luo Yin's fingertips unconsciously traced the edge of the mask, the cold metallic touch reminding him of the perpetually unlit fireplaces in the Rhine family castle. His father, the Count of Rhine, known for his iron fist, had dug his nails deep into his collarbone the last time he patted him on the shoulder, just to test whether he could maintain a smile amidst excruciating pain.

"The heir of the Rhine family is not even worthy of shedding a single tear."

The voice from his memory caused the muscles beneath his mask to twitch slightly.

"So when Robin's dragon-slaying spear was pointed at his throat, he almost desperately grabbed at that lifeline."

In the distance, Viscount Wilke was pointing at a fortress on the map and laughing, while Robin's profile was as cold and hard as if carved by a knife, showing no sign of a smile, but the gentle look in his eyes was enough to prove his respect for Viscount Wilke.

“Lord Ghost General.” A slave soldier bowed and handed him a blood-stained battle report, interrupting his observation.

He glanced at it only once before tossing it into the nearby stove. The bloodstained parchment curled and charred in the fire, eventually turning into wisps of scarlet ashes that drifted away.

Luo Yin stared at the flickering flame, a cold smile tugging at the corner of her mouth beneath the mask.

"A bunch of stupid idiots who don't know what's good for them."

The battle report clearly states that the seventeen surrendered knights gathered under cover of night, incited the slave soldiers to mutiny, and attempted to seize the grain carts to escape back to the Central Plains.

They even naively believed that they could regain their freedom once they passed through the Bone Pass.

"free?"

Luo Yin's fingertips unconsciously caressed the hilt of the sword at her waist, where a small indentation was etched—a mark left by Robin's Dragon Slayer Spear.

The bullet grazed his throat, and the blast of the gun tore through three layers of his armor.

"Before the Knights of Order, even the Legendary Knights are nothing more than strong ants."

A sudden commotion came from outside the window.

Luo Yin turned around and lifted the tent flap, just in time to see a ball of fire rising from the training ground in the distance.

A scream pierced the night sky, followed by a familiar golden spear strike like lightning—Robin was personally suppressing the rebellion.

He turned around abruptly and saw Viscount Wilke looking around in astonishment. Clearly, Robin's sudden departure had left him somewhat bewildered.

The air was filled with the sweet, pungent smell of burning flesh.

"Sir, should we send reinforcements?" The slave soldier knelt on the ground and asked for instructions.

“No need.” His voice was hoarse, and his bronze mask, reflecting the distant firelight, resembled a grinning demon’s face. “Pass down the order: all officers of centurion rank and above, assemble immediately in front of the armory.”

"I want to teach them a lesson myself."

He strode toward the training ground ablaze with flames, his cloak billowing behind him like bat wings.

The rebels nailed to the stakes were still convulsing, and Robin's dragon-slaying spear was pressed against the last knight's forehead.

"Luo Yin." Robin didn't even turn around. "You're late."

His Adam's apple bobbed slightly beneath the mask.

Luo Yin knelt on one knee, her voice carrying just the right amount of awe: "I have assembled all my officers and await your instructions."

"Look, this is what happens to those who rebel."

When he looked up, he met Robin's gaze as he turned back. Those golden, vertical pupils held no anger, only a kind of almost pleasurable calm, like a butcher looking at meat on a chopping board.

(End of this chapter)