Being a knight is not easy

Chapter 246 Night of Revenge
Another loud bang came from afar, and the entire castle trembled.

Through the shattered dome, two figures could be seen intersecting in the torrential rain, their black-gold spear light colliding with the silver-white domain of order, creating dazzling sparks.

"It's better to leave it to me."

The ghost general's figure vanished from the spot, leaving behind only a pool of liquid mixed with red wine and blood, reflecting Stander's distorted and broken head.

Above the night sky.

Horn's Order Sword unleashed a blinding silver light, but froze abruptly half an inch from Robin's chest.

Black and gold thorn patterns appeared out of thin air, tightly binding the sword's edge.

"Is that all you've got?" Robin's voice was clearly audible in the downpour. He didn't even use the Dragon Slayer Spear; he simply clamped Horn's blade between two fingers. "As a second-tier knight," he flicked his knuckles, and the blade was instantly covered in spiderweb-like cracks. "You're disappointingly weak."

Horn retreated more than ten steps, and the Order Badge on his chest suddenly exploded.

He stared in disbelief at his trembling hands, the power of his domain dissipating, just like the boy's spine he had witnessed being shattered by his own sword energy on that rainy night three years ago.

"Impossible!" Horn roared, activating his secret technique. His brown hair turned white at a visible speed, and ancient battle markings appeared beneath his skin. "The Rhine family's secret technique."

Robin suddenly appeared directly above him, his boot slamming heavily on Horn's head: "Too slow."

This kick slammed the second-tier knight three feet into the ground, and the resulting shockwave overturned half of the cemetery. "Even 30% of my speed couldn't keep up."

As Horn struggled to climb out of the pit, his right arm twisted grotesquely, a maniacal grin spreading across his face: "You think this is over?" His bloodied teeth ground down his tongue. "With my blood..."

Before he could finish speaking, the sharp edge of the Dragon-Slaying Spear had already pierced his abdomen.

Robin looked down at the once arrogant knight, a flicker of pity in his eyes: "Save your breath." With a flick of his spear, the exploding crystal Horn had hidden under his tongue rolled to the ground. "Your family's secret technique."

The distant rumble of a collapsing clock tower echoed as Robin turned toward the castle: "The Ghost General has already told me."

Horn's pupils contracted sharply, and the power of order fluctuated chaotically around him. He stared intently at the staggering black figure, whose broken bone armor was still dripping with the blood of the Rhine family.

"Who are you?" Horn's voice was hoarse and inhuman, but the spear piercing his abdomen was nothing compared to the inexplicable chill that welled up in his heart.

The ghost general's bone armor creaked under the strain, and he slowly raised his hand to remove the hideous ghost-faced helmet.

Rain washed away the bloodstains from his face, revealing the hideous scar that ran across his right cheek. It was the sword wound that Horn himself inflicted on that rainy night three years ago.

"Don't you recognize me?" The ghost general's voice suddenly became clear and bright, a tone unique to him in his youth. "Dear Uncle."

Horn's lips trembled as memories flooded back.

The boy who was exiled three years ago, the nephew whose life force foundation he personally destroyed.
"It's you!" Horn's power of order suddenly went berserk, but just before it erupted, Robin pinned him to the ground with a spear. "That bastard..."

"Hush—" The Ghost General's boot sole pressed down on Horn's throat with such precision that the other man was neither able to make a sound nor killed instantly. "You once said," he leaned close to Horn's ear, his voice as soft as a lover's whisper, "that the Bauhinia flower is only fit to bloom in the garden of the strong."

From afar came the desperate cries of the castle knights, but the Ghost General's smile grew even brighter: "Now," he raised his blood-stained dagger, the blade reflecting Horn's terrified, contorted face, "it's time to change the gardener."

Robin slowly retracted his dragon-slaying spear, the tip leaving a thin, hair-like bloodstain on Horn's throat. As he turned, from the system's perspective, the Ghost General's loyalty level was jumping from 75 to 80. "My own revenge," Robin's voice mingled with the gradually subsiding rain, yet was as clear as a hammer of judgment, "I'll take my own revenge."

The demon general's single eye suddenly blazed with a terrifying light, and purplish-black mist seeped from the cracks in his broken bone armor. As he knelt on one knee, the cracks in the ground spontaneously formed the pattern of an anchor: "Your subordinate... I would rather die a thousand deaths than repay this debt!"

Horn struggled to get up, but the ghost general stepped on his chest.

The second-tier knight finally showed a look of terror. He saw the scene from the rainy night three years ago appear in the black mist gathering in the other's palm: his own cold smile as he swung his sword, and the blood gushing from the boy's back.
"Do you know why I've kept you alive until now?" The ghost general's fingertips pierced Horn's eye socket, the movement as gentle as picking grapes. "My lord said..." Blood dripped from his wrist guard, forming a small puddle on the ground, "The cup of revenge."

Robin had his back to them and was checking out the newly unlocked features of the system.

As he heard the sound of flesh tearing behind him, a slight smile appeared on his lips—his loyalty had jumped another 2 percentage points.

"Only homemade wine is truly sweet." The ghost general's voice rang out simultaneously with the sound of bones cracking.

Just as he brought Horn's heart to his lips, the downpour suddenly stopped, and a ray of moonlight shone directly on the still convulsing heart.

Robin looked at the crazed demon general, shook his head, and muttered to himself, "I didn't say those words."

Morning light pierced through the clouds, illuminating the ruins of Rhine Castle. Last night's torrential rain washed away the bloodstains on the stone pavement, but could not wash away the heavy smell of rust.

The gilded doors of the castle’s main hall hung askew, revealing a horrifying sight inside—Horn’s headless corpse knelt on the ground, his hands bound behind his back with his knight’s sash.

Stander's head hung from the chandelier, his frozen expression still showing his final terror;

The corpses of the four legendary knights were piled up in a bizarre way to form a tower, with the blood-soaked anchor flag planted at the top.

In the courtyard, the surviving knights knelt blankly in the blood.

Their family crests on their armor were scratched by sharp weapons, and their longswords were broken in two. Last night's massacre came too quickly; many people didn't even have time to draw their swords.

"Three hundred and twenty-one knights."

Fifty-four Great Knights

"Four Legends."

"A second-order order."

Whispering reports echoed throughout the castle.

The morning light shone through the broken stained glass windows, casting dappled shadows on Viscount Devon's pale face.

The temporary lord's fingertips gripped the gilded armrest tightly, his knuckles turning bluish-white from the excessive force.

Three days ago, he was secretly delighted to be able to take over the Rhine Territory, but now he wished he had never set foot in this land of death.

“Your Excellency,” the old butler’s voice trembled, the parchment list in his hands rustling, “what should be done with Lord Horn’s remains?”

(End of this chapter)