Being a knight is not easy

Chapter 259 Lonely Path
As flesh burst open on the spikes, the barbarians in the back row leaped over the obstacles, stepping over the corpses of their comrades.

There was no fear in their eyes, only a chilling calm.

These soldiers already considered themselves dead.

Robin's arrow finally left the bowstring, but was blocked halfway by a blood-red barrier that suddenly rose up.

He squinted and saw the barbarian shamans collectively burning their life force, using secret magic to construct the final assault channel.

The canyon was eerily quiet at that moment, with only two sounds remaining:
The crisp sound of barbarian boots crushing bones.

The mechanical clicking sound of the ballistae of the Warhorse Legion being cocked.

The moment the first siege ladder reached the fortress, three whistling crossbow bolts pierced the throats of the lead soldier almost simultaneously, but many more surged forward, stepping over the convulsing corpses of their comrades.

The sparks from the collision of the bronze battle axe and the broken steel halberd scorched the wooden walls of the city tower with dense scorch marks, splattering blood into hideous totems.

"Kill! Kill all these iron turtles!" A warrior with wolf tattoos on his face held his shield to his chest and used the momentum to knock aside two crossbowmen. His battle axe whistled through the air as it cleaved towards a third man, but suddenly stopped just before it touched his neck.

The man drew his short sword from his waist with a backhand motion, and the hidden blood groove on the blade instantly devoured his life force.

The barbarian warrior watched in horror as his skin withered at a visible rate, finally turning into a emaciated corpse and collapsing to the ground.

However, death did not stop the barbarian offensive.

More men climbed the battlements, their leather boots crushing the entrails of the defenders, their bronze daggers slitting open the enemy's throats.

A young halberd soldier was surrounded by three barbarians. He swung his halberd and cleaved one of them in the chest, but was struck in the knee by another's chain hammer.

As the third battle axe fell, he mustered his last strength to pull out the broken blade and flung it into the eye of another barbarian warrior.

Salgmann rode his war rhinoceros and smashed open the city gates, the giant beast's iron hooves crushing shields and skulls.

Zotura dismounted and scanned the battlefield littered with corpses with his one eye. When he saw a barbarian warrior pinning the crossbow standard bearer to the flagpole with a spear, he let out a low growl of pleasure.

He charged up the city wall, stepping over the mangled limbs scattered on the ground, his battle axe still dripping with fresh human blood.

But when his gaze fell upon the center of the city wall, the ecstasy in his single eye froze instantly.

Robin stood on the high platform, holding the Dragon Slayer Spear, with mountains of barbarian corpses piled up at his feet.

The young lord's armor was covered with purplish-black scabs, and behind him, twelve mechanical devices emitting a ghostly blue light were slowly turning, with chains with shimmering runes wrapped around the gears forged from the bones of magical beasts and refined steel.

"Salgeman, you've finally arrived." Robin's voice, tinged with dragon's might, shook the blood droplets on the city wall. He raised his hand and waved, and twelve beams of blue light shot into the sky, intertwining in the air to form a giant cross-shaped anchor pattern.

"See these 'gifts'?" The young lord's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Take a look behind you."

Salgman's pupils contracted sharply as he finally understood the function of those magical devices.

It was an illusion device that concealed what lay behind the fortress.

As the device lost its effectiveness, the illusion gradually dissipated.

Three hundred paces away, a majestic pass made of massive stones rises abruptly from the ground.

The War Legion, with large numbers of soldiers, is surging towards the pass, and the city walls are already teeming with people.

The city wall, which is twenty feet high, is covered with diamond-shaped firing holes.

On the iron-cast city gate tower, three rows of crossbows are being adjusted.

Even more terrifying are the mountains on both sides, where the originally steep rock walls have been artificially cut into vertical cliffs, covered with barbs and iron thorns.

Welcome to Blackstone Pass.

Robin's voice came from the megaphone on the city wall, and after being refracted by the copper pipe network, it became an echo that surged in from all directions.

He had retreated to the highest watchtower at some point. The surviving barbarian warriors stood frozen in place.

Their battered bodies remained in charging stances, but the weapons in their hands began to tremble uncontrollably.

Someone suddenly knelt down and vomited black blood mixed with fragments of internal organs—a backlash from the overuse of shamanic potions.

"Keep going! Guess if there's another new pass ahead."

Salgman's bronze mask suddenly shattered, revealing a pale, ghostly face beneath.

He finally understood!

What they gained by sacrificing three thousand lives was nothing more than moving from one slaughterhouse to an even larger one.

Behind the city wall, the rumbling suddenly became uniform, the sound of the Warhorse Legion collectively loading their heavy crossbows and catapults.

Salgman's body trembled uncontrollably. He knew he had to keep attacking, but their original engineering equipment had completely failed and was not high enough. It needed to be rebuilt, which would take at least two days, not to mention the cost of capturing this formidable pass.

Salgman's bronze armor creaked under the strain, and fine beads of blood seeped from the gaps between the armor plates.

That's a sign that excessive stimulation of the Force has caused capillary rupture.

His eyes were fixed on the massive stone pass, his pupils reflecting the rows of crossbow bolts gleaming coldly on the city wall.

The old shaman's withered fingers gripped his arm guard, and black sand, unique to the far west, remained under his fingernails.

As the old man approached, Salgman smelled the familiar scent of herbs.

That's the scent of snow thorn burned during tribal rituals, a fragrance that keeps people alert.

"Zotula," the old shaman's voice sounded like sandpaper scraping, "Did you see the third firing port on the city wall?"

Salgman squinted.

Behind those diamond-shaped holes, soldiers of the Warhorse Legion could be vaguely seen carrying some kind of metal cylinder.

It was a weapon he had never seen before, but his instincts told him that it was far more deadly than the buzzer ballista.

"The Great Chanyu's son is dead, and his main force is engaged in a decisive battle with the human forces. His losses will only be greater." The old shaman tapped his bone staff lightly on the ground, and the wolf fang hanging from the staff's head suddenly moved without wind. "Now, in the royal court, whose tribe is stronger than ours?"

The distant rumble of boulders grinding together could be heard.

The gates of the formidable pass are slowly rising, revealing the deep passage behind them.

That wasn't a route of retreat, but rather a deliberate display of internal defensive fortifications.

Salgman's throat tightened as he saw the rock walls on both sides of the passage covered with countless earthenware jars filled with kerosene.

"Send an order."

Zuo Tula's voice suddenly became hoarse and unrecognizable.

He tore off the wolf-headed golden talisman from his chest, a symbol of the vanguard Zotula, and slammed it heavily to the ground.

"Take the wounded with you."

As the first barbarian warrior turned around, a series of crisp metallic clanging sounds suddenly rang out from the formidable city walls.

The Warhorse Legion collectively slammed their weapons to the ground, as if bidding farewell.

Robin stood at the highest point, toying with a control device in his hand. The magic inside was constantly disappearing. Wind Chime and the other wizards and wizard apprentices in the territory had long since vanished without a trace.

(End of this chapter)