Being a knight is not easy

Chapter 220 Purple Melon Toxin
Mrs. Elsa twirled the crystal goblet between her fingers, leaving trails of crimson wine on the glass like streaks of blood.

When the communication crystal reflected the soul fire soaring into the sky from the north, she suddenly laughed, and the beauty mark at the corner of her eye trembled slightly with her laughter.

"Madam, shouldn't we send reinforcements?" Fengling's fingers were white as she gripped the message scroll, and the edges of the parchment were already cracked.

"Reinforcements?" Mrs. Aishar suddenly threw her wine glass into the fireplace, and Robin's figure appeared on the watchtower amidst the bursting flames. "Look at that boy's tense jawline."

The young man in the flames was unconsciously stroking the Tang sword at his waist, a habitual gesture he made when he was thinking, “clearly the expression of a hungry wolf seeing its prey.”

The crystal chandelier at the Knights Guild headquarters swayed violently, and the arguing nearly lifted the dome off.

"What business is it of ours if the barbarians invade from the south!" The red-faced vice president smashed half of the council table with his fist. "The most urgent task is to determine the candidate for the next president!"

"But the border reports that Frostwolf Shamans have appeared!" someone weakly reminded, but was immediately drowned out by a louder chorus.

Odom closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

When Alina tugged at his sleeve, a bronze knight's badge slipped out, a suicide squad medal awarded fifty years ago during the barbarian invasion, now rusty.

"Teacher," Alina's voice trembled, "of the Bronze Knights who fought back then, you are the only one left."

"That's why we shouldn't have gone." Odom suddenly opened his eyes, a glint of steel flashing in his murky pupils. "How do you think those barbarians managed to break through the border barrier?"

He glanced meaningfully at the vice presidents who were arguing; the family crests they wore vaguely showed the patterns of Western nobles.

As the north wind whipped up ice shards across the city walls, the warning runestone in Robin's hand trembled even more violently.

"The drainage ditch in the southeast corner." He turned abruptly. "Andy Sue! Take your men and block it—"

Before the words were even finished, the entire section of the city wall suddenly collapsed in silence.

There was no impact, no explosion, like a cookie being gnawed on by an invisible behemoth.

After the smoke and dust cleared, a barbarian shaman covered in ice crystal runes walked through the ruins, his bone staff dripping with melting fragments of the barrier.

“Young Master,” the shaman’s Common tongue trembled with a strange, guttural quality, the tip of his staff pointing towards Robin’s heart, “your purple gourd patch.”

Whoosh!
A crossbow bolt suddenly pierced the shaman's throat.

Robin remained in the firing stance, the wisteria vines wrapped around the arrow's fletching burning—the arrows soaked in purple gourd poison.

“My fields have no shortage of fertilizer, especially for fields like yours.”

As the shaman's body crashed to the ground, faint wolf howls could be heard from outside the breach in the collapsed city wall.

The barbarian warriors' dire wolves were the first to howl, their grayish-blue fur condensing into glistening purple ice crystals. Their claws dug deep trenches in the soil, but they could not shake off the purple mycelium that spread like living things.

"Retreat! Everyone retreat!" The barbarian centurion leading the group roared, brandishing his battle axe, only to discover tiny purple sprouts emerging from under his fingernails.

His pupils suddenly contracted; this was no ordinary poison, but a living curse.

Robin stood atop the arrow tower, coldly watching the barbarian stagger through the purple mist.

He was toying with an unripe purple gourd vine in his hand, purple sap dripping from the cut end of the vine.

"Formula number three is working." The Viscountess nodded in satisfaction. "The first batch of people who came into contact with it are completely paralyzed, but..."

“But the shamans are fine.” Robin squinted.

In the distance, several shamans clad in bone armor were waving totem staffs, surrounded by a pale green aura. The purple mist dissipated automatically when they were three feet away.

The Viscountess quickly took notes. "Purple melon spores will multiply wildly after encountering living organisms, but moonlight moss extract can form an inhibitory field." This is the greatest role of experimental wizards. Their combat power may not be comparable to that of combat wizards, but the creations they research and develop are sometimes more powerful than combat wizards.

"Change to crossbow bolts number two," Robin suddenly ordered. "Use arrowheads soaked in Corruptheart Vine, specifically for those glowing green."

When the first Corrupting Heart Arrow pierced the shaman's protective aura, a terrible change occurred on the battlefield.

The shamans, who were originally immune to the toxin, suddenly let out screams that were not human, and the totem patterns on their faces began to writhe, like centipedes that had come to life.

Purple mist surged across the battlefield, coiling around the limbs of the barbarian warriors like a living thing.

Purple mist enveloped the battlefield like a veil, causing the barbarian warriors' charge to suddenly falter.

Their muscles began to spasm uncontrollably, the tomahawk slipped from their stiff fingers, and the purple melon toxin was eroding their nervous system.

"Maintain formation!" Robin's dragon-slaying spear cleaved through the mist, the purple trail left by the spear tip hissing in the air. "Their shaman hasn't fallen yet!"

Andysu's roar pierced the battlefield: "Triple Shot!!"

The sound of the crossbowmen's bowstrings exploded like thunder.

The specially made arrows pierced through the purple mist and embedded themselves in the green aura surrounding the shamans.

The moment the rotten vine sap from the arrow touched the barrier, it emitted a piercing corrosive sound.

"Ah! What is this—"

A shaman's protective barrier suddenly shattered, and purple mist immediately poured in through the gap.

His pupils suddenly dilated, and the totem patterns on his face twisted like scalded snakes.

Although the purple melon toxin could not control his mind, it perfectly disrupted the nerve conduction that maintained his witchcraft.

This great shaman, who could summon blizzards, couldn't even conjure the simplest ice spikes at this moment.

Robin's figure flashed into the enemy ranks like a purple lightning bolt.

When the Dragon-Slaying Spear pierced the throat of the first shaman, the three spear beams from the guide grooves on the spear shaft pierced through the three barbarian warriors behind it.

“Not control.” Robin spun around and cleaved the second shaman’s bone staff in two. “It’s precise paralysis!”

The steel torrent of the Zhan Ge Battalion followed closely behind.

The newly recruited knights' halberds were imbued with the power of life, and each thrust precisely severed the tendons of the barbarian warriors.

The purple mist flowed around them, yet miraculously avoided the soldiers of Wilke's territory, whose armor linings were sewn with pouches made from purple melon toxins.

When Ironjaw's giant axe cleaved through the last shaman's ice crystal armor, the entire battlefield suddenly fell into an eerie silence.

Fewer than a hundred barbarians remained standing, swaying as if drunk, some even laughing idiotically due to the purple melon toxin.

Someone tried to raise a weapon, only to find their fingers dancing a bizarre, uncontrollable dance.

"Clean up the battlefield." Robin flicked the blood off the tip of his spear. None of the remaining barbarians had reached the knight level, so they weren't worth Robin's attention. Besides, he had already reached his quota for the day.

After today's battle, he discovered that his Dragon Devouring Breathing Technique could only absorb the energy of one hundred people per battle.

If the number exceeds this threshold, killing more will be futile.

(End of this chapter)