Being a knight is not easy

Chapter 223 Authentic
The tenth Power Fruit was absorbed by the knight apprentice. The young serf's son trembled all over, unable to believe the life force surging in his fist.

Three months ago, he was shoveling manure in the stable.

“Five hundred and sixty-eight.” Ito’s quill pen drew deep ink marks on the roster, the parchment so thick it could no longer be rolled up. “At this rate, in a few months we’ll even have knight apprentices cutting hay for the horses.”

Viscount Wilke suddenly burst into laughter, which made the armor in the hall vibrate.

The old lord ripped open the brocade robe embroidered with his family crest, revealing the old claw marks on his chest—medals left from a battle with an ice bear thirty years ago.

"Not enough to go around?" He grabbed the battle axe from the table and cleaved it across the map, the blade embedding itself deeply into the western border. "Back in the day, I dared to rob a count's territory with just twelve knights!"

Robin looked up and gave a wolf-like smile: "Father is right." He casually tossed the dagger, its cold light piercing the center of the two nearest noble territories on the map. "I've heard that the territories attacked by barbarians are not limited to our Viscount Wilke's territory."

Suddenly, the sound of orderly footsteps came from outside the hall.

Through the stained glass windows, you can see the newly recruited Cavaliers practicing extra.

They were no longer carrying the wooden swords used for training, but rather long spears.

Many of them had not received formal knightly training and knew nothing about swordsmanship, so they all used halberds as their weapons, which were the weapons they were most familiar with.

His combat skills consist of only four moves: chop, hook, pull, and sweep.

These four ordinary moves, practiced thousands of times a day, are combined with battle formations.

Even a lone knight wouldn't dare to confront them head-on.

Ironjaw's steel boots echoed dully on the marble floor as his thick arms dragged a ragged young man.

The "merchant's" disguise was already tattered, revealing the Alfonso family crest embroidered on the inner lining: a silver deer pierced by an arrow.

"My lord!" Ironjaw's voice boomed like thunder, "We've caught a lost fawn."

Robin slowly crouched down, the amethyst ring gleaming eerily in the candlelight. He reached out and lifted the captive's chin, his fingertips touching the cold, sticky skin.

That wasn't sweat, but undried blood.

“Let me guess,” Robin’s voice was eerily soft, “Baron Alfonso sent you to peek at my toys?”

The prisoner suddenly trembled violently, his pupils dilating so much that the whites of his eyes were almost invisible. "No, no, sir," he choked out, "I've come for help. Alfonso is gone."

The air in the council chamber froze instantly.

The wine glass in Viscount Wilke's hand shattered with a "crack," and the deep red wine dripped through his fingers, much like the location of Alfonso Territory on the map.

There should be a raging fire burning there right now.

"Explain yourself." The old lord's voice suddenly sounded twenty years younger, carrying the ruthless aura of a seasoned veteran.

The captive screamed, "Barbarians! They appeared out of nowhere! The local private army couldn't stop them at all! Our lord was the first to be dragged into the burrow; his screams lasted all night!"

Outside the window, the watchtower's alarm bell suddenly rang.

On the horizon, twelve plumes of black smoke pierced the sky, the beacon fires of the surrounding territories.

The nearest one is less than thirty miles from Wilke's territory.

“Father.” Robin slowly rose to his feet. “It seems I need to go out and take a look. Perhaps I can bring these territories under my control in one fell swoop…” Viscount Wilke had already drawn his ancestral barbarian-slaying greatsword, the runes on its spine lighting up one after another: “…It’s time to draw blood.”

“Father, you and Uncle Ito stay in the territory and keep watch. I’ll go out and check the situation. With my strength, even if something unexpected happens, I can easily retreat.” Robin quickly made a decision.

Viscount Wilke and Ito nodded without offering any opinions; they both believed in Robin's abilities.

At dawn, Robin's black cloak cast a shadow across the scorched earth.

Behind him, twelve elite soldiers stood silently, their boots crunching over the still-smoking corpses with a sickening cracking sound.

“Thirty li.” Ironjaw crouched down, his thick fingers wiping the still-uncongealed blood on the ground. “It’s the Frostwolf tribe’s method.” He twirled his fingertips, ice crystals glittering in the bloodstains. “They take out the intestines of their prisoners and freeze them into road signs.”

The ruins of Alfonso Castle resemble a giant beast that has been gutted.

More than a dozen corpses were stuck upside down on the suspension bridge, all of them impaled through the anus and mouth by spears.

At the very top, the old man dressed in the lord's finery still had his frozen fingers in the posture of grasping an iron spear, his fingernails all turned up, revealing the frozen flesh beneath.

“It seems the Baron really did scream all night.” Robin used his Dragon Slayer Spear to pick up a broken iron chain covered in bits of flesh. “They hung him here and let everyone watch their lord slowly freeze to death.”

Suddenly, the sound of metal clanging came from the castle cellar.

The cellar contained hundreds of children's corpses, neatly stacked like firewood.

A surviving barbarian warrior turned around upon hearing footsteps: "You're too late."

The cold light of the Dragon-Slaying Spear flashed, and the barbarian's head spun as it flew towards the wine barrel.

As the headless corpse knelt, Robin's boots pressed down on his twitching wrist: "It seems the Frostwolf tribe's vanguard is so hungry they're even hunting people."

Ironjaw kicked aside the haystack in the corner, revealing a deep tunnel: "My lord, it seems the rest of the people in the territory have gone underground."

"Looks like we're not too late. Let's go down and take a look." Robin took the lead and stepped down into the tunnel.

The smell of blood in the tunnel was so strong that you could smell rust as well.

As soon as Robin's boots stepped off the first stone step, thick blood plasma spread over the insteps of his feet.

The torchlight shone on the rock wall, revealing countless messy scratch marks—some left by fingernails, but many more by the handiwork of animal claws.

"My lord, be careful!" Ironjaw's giant axe suddenly blocked the attack, and a poisoned bone arrow snapped off the axe with a "clang".

In the shadows, a barbarian warrior, his belly ripped open, was still convulsing as he drew his bow. Andisu picked up a stone, swung it forcefully, and smashed the barbarian warrior's head open.

"The fighting here is more intense than expected," Robin quickly concluded, indicating that it was at least not a one-sided massacre.

Three hundred paces deep, the mine suddenly opened up.

This is a hollowed-out crystal iron vein. The purple-blue ore, which should have been priceless, has now become the most cruel battlefield lighting prop.

In the mine tunnel on the left, three serfs were digging their picks into the eye sockets of a Frost Dire Wolf, their movements frantic and numb.

At the fork in the road to the right, the knight with a broken leg tore open the barbarian's throat with his teeth. His sword had long since broken, and he could only fight with the last weapon in his body.

(End of this chapter)