Being a knight is not easy

Chapter 270 Veteran
Solomon was a mercenary, not a knight, much less a suicide soldier.

His sword fights only for gold coins, never for anyone.

If no one stays behind to cover the retreat, the army will surely perish.

At this moment, the only one who can step forward is Nash.

Bob opened his mouth as if to say something, but the sound of approaching iron hooves cut him off abruptly.

“Ancestor—!” Bob’s roar shattered in the wind.

Nash didn't turn around. He simply raised his hand, yanked the reins sharply, and his warhorse neighed, charging like an arrow towards the ironclad torrent of Wilke's army.

Behind him, the old knights who had followed him for decades followed silently, their armor gleaming coldly in the setting sun.

This charge was destined to have no return.

They were like a sharp dagger, piercing fiercely into the enemy ranks.

Wherever Nash's sword went, blood splattered, and no one could stop it.

Warhorses trampled shields, swords tore throats, and they fought their way through a bloody path until they reached Robin Wilke.

The young Order Knight sat upright on his horse, his silver armor as white as frost, his gaze calmly fixed on the old knight covered in blood.

Nash took a deep breath, and the life force of the Storm Breath within him erupted, causing a surge of air around him, as if a hurricane was gathering on the edge of his sword.

A strange light flashed in Robin's eyes.

"The Wolford family?" His voice held a hint of inquiry.

Nash remained silent, staring intently at the other person.

He sensed the same powerful, stormy breath emanating from Robin—no, even more powerful and purer.

This is the genius of the Wilke family, hailed as the strongest Order Knight of the new generation.

The two storms collided silently, and the air itself seemed to tremble.

Nash's swordplay began to falter, and his breathing became heavy, like a broken bellows.

His life force was steadily defeated by Robin's fierce offensive, and each clash made his arm heavier.

"That's it?" Robin's lips curled into a mocking smile, his silver armor gleaming coldly in the setting sun. "An old bone with one foot in the grave, instead of staying home enjoying his grandchildren, he insists on coming to the battlefield to die?"

"Arrogant!" Nash's eyes widened in anger, his white beard flying in the strong wind.

He suddenly jerked his longsword, and the Storm Force wrapped around the blade emitted a piercing shriek.

"Still stuck at the early stage of Order Knight at this age." Robin deftly parried his attack, a cruel glint in his eyes. "The bloodline of your Wolft family is indeed getting worse with each generation."

"How dare this junior!"

Nash roared like thunder, and his hunched body suddenly burst forth with astonishing power.

He pushed off the horse with both feet and leaped into the air. His emaciated body shot into the air like an arrow, and the sword, imbued with his life's cultivation, transformed into a bolt of blue lightning that struck straight at Robin's face!
Nash's sword was imbued with the breath of a storm, each strike like a raging torrent crashing against the shore, the violent life force tearing through the air with a piercing shriek.

His swordplay was powerful and unrestrained, carrying the ruthlessness and decisiveness of a veteran general. Wherever his sword light passed, the ground cracked and stones flew everywhere.

Robin, however, strolled leisurely, his silver armor gleaming coldly in the setting sun.

His swordplay was precise and elegant, and every parry was perfectly timed, as if he had anticipated every bit of Nash's strength.

His Storm Breath was purer and more powerful, and the Force of Life formed an invisible barrier around him, neutralizing Nash's attacks one by one.

"Old man, your sword is too slow." Robin sneered, his figure flashing suddenly, the blade like a venomous snake stabbing towards Nash's throat.

Nash dodged to the side, the blade grazing his neck and drawing a line of blood.

He roared and swung his sword horizontally with a backhand motion. The Storm Force condensed on the blade into a blue arc of light, heading straight for Robin's waist and abdomen.

Robin lightly touched the ground with her toes, her figure retreating like a ghost, and with a flick of her sword, she easily neutralized Nash's attack.

A hint of mockery flashed in his eyes, as if he were admiring the dying struggle of a trapped beast.

“Your era is long over,” Robin’s voice was icy. “The battlefield now belongs to us.” Nash didn’t answer, but gritted his teeth, his sword strikes growing increasingly ferocious.

He knew he had no way out but to fight to the death.

His life force burned wildly, and the storm aura on his sword grew increasingly intense, as if he were pouring his last breath into this battle.

The two longswords clashed again, unleashing a deafening roar.

A blast of air swept through, raising dust, and the surrounding soldiers retreated, not daring to approach the eye of the storm.

Nash's breathing grew heavier and heavier, and the muscles in his arms trembled from overexertion.

His vision began to blur, but his hand holding the sword remained firm.

A hint of seriousness finally flashed in Robin's eyes.

He never expected that this aging knight could unleash such tenacious fighting power.

But soon, a cold smile crept onto his lips again.

"A futile struggle."

Before he finished speaking, his swordplay suddenly accelerated, and his life force poured out like a tsunami.

Nash's defenses were instantly torn apart, the sword's edge piercing straight into his chest—

Blood splattered.

Nash staggered backward, a sharp pain shooting through his chest.

But he did not fall. Instead, he used his sword to support his body, staring intently at Robin, his eyes burning with an indomitable flame.

“Young man…you ultimately…don’t understand…” he gasped, his voice hoarse yet resolute, “A true knight…will never…yield…”

Robin squinted, and drops of bright red blood dripped from the tip of his sword.

"Then take your pride and go to hell."

Robin's sword sliced ​​through the air, a flash of cold light.

Nash's head flew high into the air, his pale beard and hair spreading out in the sunset like a withered leaf.

Those eyes were still open, as if they were still gazing at the battlefield where he had fought his entire life.

"Old Marquis!"

The surviving old knights let out heart-wrenching roars.

They threw aside their shields, tore off their blood-stained cloaks, and charged at Robin like a pack of wounded beasts.

These veterans, who had fought alongside Nash for decades, had completely abandoned their defense and only wanted to use their last breaths to avenge their commander.

But Robin simply sheathed her sword coldly.

Andysu's halberd and the Ghost General's Tang sword were drawn simultaneously, and two dark figures stood like death gods in front of the old knights.

Amidst the flashing blades and clashing spears, one after another, white-haired heads rolled to the ground, their weathered faces still frozen with anger and resentment.

"Clean up the battlefield." Robin walked away without looking back. "Leave no one alive."

Marquis Sonata's Iron Knights pressed up from the flank, forming an encirclement with Wilke's army.

The remnants of the Central Plains allied forces were squeezed into an ever-shrinking encirclement, making their last struggle like trapped beasts.

However, just as the noose was about to tighten, Solomon's mercenary group suddenly tore open a gap from the northwest corner.

This cunning mercenary leader, leading his most elite men, pierced through the encirclement like a sharp dagger.

They abandoned their supplies and even the wounded, all in order to achieve the fastest possible breakout speed.

(End of this chapter)