Being a knight is not easy

Chapter 257 Battle of the Canyon 2
Robin gripped the Dragon Slayer Spear tightly, and the aura of a powerful being of order spread along the spear, forming an invisible pressure in the air above the training ground.

He has already achieved his share target for today.

He earned three legendary Power Fruits and ninety-seven Great Knight Fruits.

The probing attack had just ended, and the barbarian siege equipment was slowly being deployed.

Tens of thousands of barbarian warriors carried three layers of reinforced siege ladders and surged into the canyon like a tide.

Salgmann, mounted on his war rhinoceros, brandished his battle axe and roared thunderously, "Charge! Break through their ranks!"

Just then, a piercing horn sounded from the fortress.

Thirty thunderous crossbows fired simultaneously, arrows piercing the sky and falling into the enemy ranks with a piercing shriek.

Explosions rang out one after another, flames shot into the sky, and the barbarian formation was instantly torn open with countless gaps.

"Release!" Robin commanded, and the oil pipes on both sides of the canyon spewed out raging flames, forming two hundred-meter-long walls of fire.

A wave of scorching heat rushed towards them, instantly engulfing the barbarian warriors at the forefront.

Screams, wails, and the clanging of metal mingled together, turning the entire canyon into a living hell.

With red eyes, Salgeman commanded his soldiers to advance at the risk of their lives.

Finally, the first siege ladder was placed against the city wall. But what greeted them was not the defenders' spears, but a torrential downpour of crossbow bolts.

The triangular armor-piercing arrow easily penetrated the leather armor, pinning the barbarian warrior to the ladder.

Robin gripped the Dragon Slayer Spear and leaped off the city wall.

Wherever the dragon's might passed, the air crackled.

His spear tip sliced ​​across the throat of a barbarian warrior, and blood gushed out, tracing a graceful arc in the air.

The Warhorse Legion followed closely behind, like a sharp dagger, piercing the heart of the enemy.

The battle lasted a whole day and night.

As the setting sun once again painted the sky red, the canyon was littered with corpses.

Looking at the mess on the ground, Salgman finally realized that he was not facing an ordinary human army.
This was a war machine forged from steel and magic, a terrifying entity he had never seen before.

Robin stood atop a mountain of corpses and a sea of ​​blood, his Dragon-Slaying Spear dripping with blood.

The demon general strode over the corpse of a barbarian centurion, his boots crushing the bronze battle axe the man still clutched in death. Blood still stained his face, his single eye blazing with fanatical fire: "My lord, today's victory is glorious! Three thousand seven hundred and eighty heads taken, our casualties less than three hundred!"

Robin stood on the battlements, his fingertips lightly tracing the lingering warmth on the surface of the buzzing ballista.

In the distance, the campfires of the barbarian camp burned together, from which came the faint sounds of angry roars and mournful wolf howls. A cold smile curled at the corner of his lips: "Let them howl. It's only the first day."

"Your Majesty is wise!" The ghost general knelt on one knee, barbarian blood seeping from the gaps in his armor forming a pool on the ground. "I will go and arrange for the reserve team to take turns defending."

Robin nodded slightly, his gaze shifting to the war merit registration officers queuing below the city wall.

Ironjaw's signature metal visor gleamed coldly in the firelight. He held a specially made steel spike, and as he passed a soldier, he used the spike to carve a thin mark on the soldier's arm armor.

Those were the legion's unique battle marks, each mark representing the head of a barbarian.

Because the life force imprint of Robin's Dragon Breathing Technique is still present on it, there is no need to worry about anyone daring to replace it.

"The registration must be detailed." Robin's voice drifted down the city wall on the night breeze. "Tomorrow, new Power Fruits will be distributed according to battle merits."

Upon hearing this, Ironjaw let out a savage laugh that sounded like metal scraping against metal, and the steel spike in his hand suddenly burst into a ball of purple flame: "Yes, sir!"

A burst of excited growls suddenly erupted from below the city wall.

The soldiers rubbed their hands together, their eyes scanning the barbarian camp like livestock awaiting slaughter. The night wind fluttered the cross-shaped anchor banner, its surface still damp with blood, which shimmered an eerie blackish-purple in the moonlight.

Robin stood in the tent, with seven Great Knight-level Power Fruits floating in the air before him, emitting dark purple energy fluctuations that pulsated slightly like living things.

Tustin and the Wallace brothers knelt on one knee, their armor still stained with the blood of the barbarians.

Their breathing was heavy, and their eyes burned with a burning desire.

That was the purest thirst for power after experiencing life-and-death battles.

"My lord, the remaining energy in my body has been completely refined." Tustin's voice was hoarse like a whetstone. He unfastened his breastplate, revealing a hideous scar on his chest, a mark left by the energy of the Power Fruit washing over his meridians, which had now completely transformed into a cross-shaped anchor pattern.

This was a system Robin designed to help her determine the level of refinement of the knights who had consumed the Power Fruit, so that she wouldn't have to check it herself every time.

The same goes for Wallace.

Robin flicked her finger, and two Great Rider Fruits slowly flew towards the two brothers.

The moment the fruit touched their skin, it emitted a clear, metallic clang.

“Remember this feeling.” Robin’s voice suddenly became ethereal, and the candlelight in the tent simultaneously turned purple. “Power is not a reward.”

Twenty-one knight-level fruits lit up simultaneously, illuminating the entire tent as if it were daytime.

The recipients groaned in pain, their bones cracking and popping, their muscle fibers twisting like steel wire.

"...but a contract forged with blood and flesh."

The early morning mist clung to Blackrock Canyon like ghosts, and cold dew condensed on Salgman's bronze armor.

He personally led three thousand wolf riders, their hooves wrapped in coarse linen, and approached the camp under the cover of thick fog.

"Zothura, the scouts report that there are only scattered lights on the watchtower ahead." The shaman lowered his voice, the human skull in his hand reflecting the first hint of dawn on the eastern horizon.

Salgeman's nostrils were filled with the smell of blood and rust.

That was the lingering resentment of the barbarian warriors who died in battle yesterday.

He touched the wolf-tooth necklace hanging on his chest, a death warrant bestowed upon him by the Great Khan.

"Blow the horn."

"Woo——"

The mournful sound of the horn suddenly ripped through the silence, and three thousand wolf riders simultaneously tore off their burlap sacks and surged toward the Zijing Army camp like a black torrent.

Salgman's battle axe cleaved open the wooden door of the first watchtower, but only chopped up a few bundles of straw; the tower was empty.

"not good!"

His pupils suddenly contracted, and in the dim light of dawn, he finally saw what was standing in the camp.

Hundreds of scarecrows clad in armor, each "soldier" with a blue-glowing piece of anti-magic steel nailed to their chest.

"boom!"

Suddenly, the rock walls on both sides of the canyon exploded, revealing a hidden array of crossbows that blared like bees.

The first volley of armor-piercing arrows whistled through the air, pinning the front-line wolf riders and their horses to the ground.

Even more terrifying, the scarecrows studded with arrows suddenly burst into flames, instantly forming a ring of fire that trapped the barbarian cavalry within the wall of flames.

(End of this chapter)