Being a knight is not easy

Chapter 272 The Barbarian's Swan Song 2
Robin bowed respectfully to Marquis Sonata and said, "Your Excellency, our Wilk Territory shares weal and woe with the Western Frontier, and it is our duty to deal with the barbarians. However, we still need to formulate a detailed battle plan, after all, the barbarians are not to be underestimated."

So Robin, Marquis Sonata, and other generals from the West began to discuss battle plans.

They studied maps, analyzed the habits and distribution of the barbarians, and formulated a strategy to encircle and annihilate the barbarians based on the terrain features of the western border.

After the battle plan was finalized, the Western Alliance launched an attack on the barbarians.

Robin led five thousand elite warriors as the vanguard, like sharp arrows, straight into the barbarian camp.

They sped along, raising clouds of dust that blotted out the sky, their thunderous footsteps sounding like the roar of the earth.

The two sides met and confronted each other on the Sapar Plain.

The Sapar Plain is vast and boundless, and although a gentle breeze blows, it cannot dispel the tense atmosphere.

The two armies stood like two opposing mountain peaks, their silence concealing an impending storm.

The barbarians now have only one strongman of order left, Salghman, whose eyes turned bloodshot when he saw Robin.

He stood at the very front of the barbarian army, his tall figure exuding a wild aura.

His muscles bulged, as if containing boundless power, and his simple yet distinctive barbarian clothing trembled slightly with his angry panting.

"Human warriors, are you trying to wipe us out?!" Salgman's voice echoed across the plains like thunder, his eyes filled with anger and resentment.

Behind him, the barbarian warriors were also infected by his emotions, gripping their weapons tightly and roaring with a thirst for survival and a desire to fight.

Robin, mounted on his warhorse, looked calmly at Salghman and slowly said, "Salghman, this is not an act of annihilation. For many years, your barbarians have burned, killed, and plundered on the western border, committing all sorts of atrocities. We are only trying to protect our homeland and the people of the west. If you are willing to retreat to your territory and stop invading our borders, this war can be avoided."

Upon hearing Robin's words, Salgman laughed loudly, "Humans are always so hypocritical! This land was originally our barbarian hunting ground. It was you humans who kept expanding and encroaching on our land. Now you're turning around and blaming us?"

Robin sighed softly; he knew it would be difficult to reach a consensus with Salgman on this issue. He glanced back at the warriors behind him, each standing ready for battle, their eyes showing no fear. Then he turned his gaze to Salgman and said, "Salgman, further words are useless. If you remain obstinate, then only the battlefield will tell."

Sargeman roared, raising his massive battle axe high, its blade gleaming with a chilling light. The barbarian warriors behind him echoed his thunderous roar, and a great battle was about to erupt.

A piercing buzzing sound suddenly filled the air, and thousands of crossbows trembled simultaneously. Black arrows streaked across the sky like swarms of locusts, weaving a net of death over the barbarian army.

The moment the arrows rained down, blood and flesh splattered, and screams of agony filled the air. The charging formation was instantly torn open with several bloody gaps.

Salgman's roar drowned out the battlefield's clamor. He raised his battle axe high, his bronze muscles taut like iron in the sunlight: "Warriors, charge with me—!"

His gaze was fixed on the silver figure in the distance—Robin Wilke, the key to this war.

Salgman knew better than anyone that only by defeating this genius knight of the Wilke family could they turn the tide of the battle.

Retreating to the icy plains of the far west means years of famine and decline, but if we win today, we may be able to launch a full-scale attack back to the west and reclaim the fertile lands lost by our ancestors.

With his battle axe cleaving through the oncoming arrows, Salgeman charged into the enemy ranks like a furious, icy bear.

The barbarian warriors behind him roared like wild beasts, their heavy footsteps shaking the earth. This charging formation, composed of the most elite warriors of the far west, was like a red-hot iron spear, fiercely piercing the steel defenses of Wilke's army.

"Alan Wilke!" Salgman's roar echoed across the battlefield, "Come and fight me!"

In the distance, the silver-armored knight slowly raised his head, and the life force of the Breath of Storms began to flow around him.

Two completely different forces clashed violently on the battlefield, foreshadowing the most tragic chapter of this battle that would determine the fate of the western border.

Robin wore a mocking sneer, his silver armor gleaming coldly in the sunlight. He looked down at the charging Salgman as if he were a trapped beast, his fingertips lightly tracing the still-damp bloodstains on the hilt of his sword.

“A brute is a brute.” He chuckled softly, his voice carrying a condescending pity. “Thinking that defeating me will win the war? How laughable.”

The life force of the Storm's Breath circulated around him, forming a visible vortex.

He calmly adjusted his stance, the silver armor making a crisp clanging sound with each movement.

"A frontal charge?" Robin shook his head, a cruel glint in his eyes. "It seems the barbarians of the far west don't even understand the most basic tactics."

He slowly raised his longsword, its blade drawing a cold arc in the sunlight.

Behind them, the heavy cavalry of the Western Allied Forces had already formed their charge formation, their long spears like a forest.

"Since you're so eager to die," Robin's voice suddenly turned cold, "then I'll grant your wish."

The moment the last word fell, he pointed his sword forward, and a deafening sound of horses' hooves immediately rose behind him.

Two torrents of steel are about to collide on this blood-stained land, a fateful encounter.

The earth is shaking.

The heavily armored knights of the Western Noble Alliance were like a silver torrent. Their warhorses were clad in armor, and the knights held lances. The heavy hooves of the horses crushed the mud, and the long lances were held horizontally, their gleaming tips pointing straight ahead.

Their charge was perfectly synchronized, like a moving steel wall, crushing everything in its path with overwhelming force.

On the other side, the barbarian warriors led by Salghman also showed no sign of retreating.

They were bare-chested, their bronze muscles smeared with battle markings, and they wielded heavy battle axes and greatswords, which made a terrifying sound as they cut through the air.

These warriors from the far west are all killing machines honed by life and death. At this moment, they let out beast-like battle roars and charged head-on into the steel torrent.

"For the glory of our ancestors—!" Salgman's roar tore through the sky.

The two armies clashed violently.

In an instant, the ear-piercing sound of metal clashing echoed across the battlefield.

(End of this chapter)