Being a knight is not easy

Chapter 215 Fruit 2
The morning light pierced through the clouds and shone on the training grounds of Wilke Territory.

Five hundred knight apprentices stood in formation, their breathing heavy and their eyes burning, like a pack of hungry wolves eyeing a piece of fresh meat.

Official Knight.

This once unattainable dream is now within reach.

Three months ago, they were just the lowest-ranking slave soldiers, charging into battle driven by whips and hunger.

Now, the life force surging within them is allowing them to experience the taste of "power" for the first time.

"I heard that the 'power' bestowed this time is so great that even a Grand Knight can create it!"

"Young Master Allen said that those who excel in the top ten battles will be directly granted knight-level power!"

"I've already chopped off seven heads, this time I'll definitely—"

Amid the clamor of discussion, the soldiers unconsciously straightened their backs, especially those with blood-stained bandages wrapped around their bodies—their "medals."

Standing at the very front was a giant nicknamed "Iron Jaw".

His jaw had been split open in battle and was now held in place with metal plates and rivets, making a metallic creaking sound when he spoke.

“Thirty-nine.” He patted the string of enemy thumb bones around his waist, grinned, and his iron jaws reflected a cold light. “This time, I’m going to take first place.”

On the high platform, Robin—or rather, the warriors of Wilk territory preferred to call him "Young Master Allen"—walked out slowly.

The entire training ground fell into a deathly silence.

His gaze swept across the crowd, those once numb eyes now burning with an almost frenzied loyalty and longing.

“Excellent! This is the kind of army he wanted.”

They are no longer mercenaries built on noble titles and gold coins, but a group of demons who have crawled back from hell, willing to sell their souls to him for greater power.

“According to the battle record.” Robin’s voice wasn’t loud, but it felt like a blade scraping against everyone’s eardrums.

"The third team of the Warhorse Battalion, Iron Jaw, has decapitated thirty-nine enemies and been granted knight-level strength."

"Seventh Crossbowman Squad, Gray Rat, sniped an enemy knight and is granted knight-level power."

"The entire assault team will hold the eastern pass to the death, and will be given collective body-tempering essence."

Each announcement made the air even hotter.

The Body Tempering Essence was originally a medicinal dish that Robin brewed using magical beasts and herbs. Now that he is a first-ring wizard, he has combined it with pharmacology to create a potion specifically for tempering the bodies of knight apprentices, which is called the Body Tempering Essence.

When Iron Jaw knelt on one knee, trembling all over, his iron jaw even deformed slightly due to excitement.

"Your subordinate is willing to die for Young Master Allen!"

This roar was like igniting a powder keg; five hundred knight apprentices simultaneously pounded their chests and roared, the sound waves making the weapon racks around the training ground buzz.

In the shadows of the attic, Viscount Wilke's fingertips gripped the window frame so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and splinters of wood fell from the frame.

He looked at the group of kneeling soldiers on the drill ground, and his throat involuntarily bobbed.

That was longing.

He was once a great knight who dominated the battlefield, until a poisoned arrow pierced his lungs, severing his chance to become a legend.

Now, his son casually bestows power upon the lowest of the warriors.

"This is my last chance."

This thought gnawed at his reason like a venomous snake.

“Master…” Chief Knight Ito’s voice came from behind, low and urgent, “If Young Master Allen can help those slave soldiers break through… then he will definitely have a way to heal your injuries, perhaps even…”

They even entered the realm of legend.

He didn't say those words aloud, but the viscount's pupils contracted slightly.

He glanced sideways at Ito, his trusted confidant of twenty years, whose eyes now burned with the same hope as his own. “After the ceremony,” the Viscount slowly released the window frame, leaving five clear finger marks on the wood, “I will speak with him personally.”

At the edge of the training ground, five thousand newly captured slave soldiers stood silently.

Their hands and feet were still shackled, and their tattered leather armor was stained with the blood of their former owners, but their eyes were fixed on the high platform, on those "kindred spirits" who had just been granted power.

"Why can't it be me?"

This idea took root simultaneously in five thousand hearts.

A gaunt young slave soldier licked his chapped lips.

His left ear was missing half, a mark left from the battle of White Poplar Valley. But now, staring at Ironjaw's hands and the Tang sword given to him by Robin, the scar beneath his missing ear flushed red with excitement.

"Next time... I'll be standing there again next time."

The veteran standing next to him clenched his fists in secret.

He served as a slave soldier for nobles for ten years and witnessed far too many of their lies.

But at this moment, he smelled the blood wafting in the wind and saw the real emerald halo in the eyes of those warriors.

Robin's gaze swept over the newly captured slave soldiers, and the corners of his mouth turned up almost imperceptibly.

"Very good...the seed has been planted."

Want power?

Then let's exchange loyalty for it.

As he turned around, the sunlight reflected off the Dragon-Slaying Spear, casting a cold beam that pierced right into Luo Yin's bronze mask in the distance.

His eyes, hidden beneath the mask, widened in disbelief. What had he just seen?
It's no wonder that he dared to oppose the entire kingdom's nobility, given that he could bestow power upon the warrior knights.

The candlelight flickered in the Viscount's study, casting the shadows of the father and son onto the wall covered with military maps.

Robin tapped the table lightly with her fingertips, and the two Great Rider Fruits, shimmering with dark gold ripples, pulsed as if alive in the candlelight.

Viscount Wilke's gaze was fixed on the fruit, and his Adam's apple bobbed almost imperceptibly.

He could feel it—just by getting close, his old wounds, dormant for many years, began to burn faintly, as if a dried-up riverbed had smelled the fishy scent of rainwater.

"legend……"

The thought made his left hand, hidden in his sleeve, tremble slightly.

“Father,” Robin’s voice rang out at the right moment, carrying just the right amount of respect and concern, “I’m not sure if these fruits will have any side effects. I hope to observe them for a few more days and make sure there is no danger before letting you and Ito use them.”

Grand Knight Ito nodded to the undetectable and subconsciously took a half step back.

The viscount finally looked away from the fruit, his eyes filled with pride and satisfaction.

“You’re right.” The viscount suddenly burst into laughter, shoving the fruit back into Robin’s hand, the veins on the back of his withered hand bulging. “We can wait!”

A cold wind swept across the training ground, bringing with it a whiff of dust mixed with the smell of sweat.

Those former slave soldiers, now wielding long spears, are training in perfect unison under the command of their instructors.

Their eyes were no longer numb; instead, they held an almost fanatical fighting spirit.

Robin gave them dignity and strength, and they will repay him with absolute loyalty.

"kill!"

At a command, the soldiers of the Zhan Ge Battalion suddenly thrust forward, their spears slicing through the air with a cold, forest-like gleam.

Not far away, the archers of the crossbow battalion knelt on the ground, their crossbows resting steadily on their arms, the cold arrows aimed at the distant grass targets.

With the commander's short whistle, the crossbow strings rang out, and a rain of arrows whistled out, accurately hitting the bullseye.

(End of this chapter)