King of the North: My Lord's Diary Weekly Summary

The third bandit looked terrified, and his knife was too weak to lift in an instant. He could only open his mouth to scream!

Just then, an arrow shot from behind the bandits and pierced his back.

It's Hank.

With a muffled "plop".

The bandit was thrown forward by the force of the arrow, and his original scream turned into a low moan of pain under the influence of the pain and blood in his mouth.

"Good arrow!"

Wayne secretly praised him, took a step forward, and swung his left ice claw—this time from the front, the claw tip slicing across his throat.

The sound stopped abruptly.

Three bodies lay on the frozen ground, blood gushing from their wounds, quickly becoming viscous and dark red in the low temperature.

Wayne stood up straight, his chest rising and falling slightly.

He looked down at his left hand—the ice claw shattered at his will, turning into a pale blue halo that slowly dissipated, leaving only the fingertips still chilled.

Wayne felt much more at ease!

I am stronger than I imagine myself to be.

Much stronger.

"grown ups……"

Hank emerged from behind a broken wall, bow still in his hand, an incredulous look on his face: "This...this is it?"

The other two cavalrymen who had followed Hank also came out. They looked at the corpses on the ground, then at Wayne, their eyes filled with a mixture of shock and awe.

too fast.

From the moment Wayne made his move to the moment the three men died, it took only five or six breaths.

Clean, efficient... This is nothing like the young lord they imagined who needed protection!

Hank and his two companions had only one thought at that moment—when did their lord become so strong?!

As for the eerie and terrifying ice claws, they didn't react for a moment!

"Your archery skills are quite good."

Wayne nodded to Hank, his voice calm and unreadable.

He walked to the first corpse, grasped the hilt of the sword, and pulled it out forcefully.

Blood dripped down the hilt of the sword.

Two cavalrymen belonging to Anke's squad rushed over from the other end of the alley and were visibly stunned when they saw the scene.

"Sir, we heard a noise..."

Before the leading cavalryman could finish speaking, his gaze swept over the three corpses, then looked at the still-dripping sword in Wayne's hand, his expression complex.

Three dark red splatters appeared on the snow, standing out starkly in the sunlight.

Seeing Anke's troop deployment, Wayne nodded in approval—Anke was still prudent, having appropriately divided his forces to prevent him from being unable to quickly take down the mountain bandits to the west.

"Hank, put out the fire."

The flames were still burning on the doorframe of the cabin when Wayne uttered those words and sped off northward.

"yes!"

As Wayne drew closer to the north of the village, the fighting and shouts grew louder.

The situation in the north was better than he had expected.

Wei Meng and An Ke, along with five cavalrymen, had already pinned down three members of another group of mountain bandits.

Despite the cavalry's chaotic and disorganized infantry tactics, the seven of them, with their superior equipment and numerical advantage, still maintained a firm upper hand against the three.

With a powerful slash, Wei Meng forced back the enemy in front, and An Ke, on the flank, seized the opportunity to thrust out a sword, slashing a gash in the bandit's thigh.

The bandit's cry of pain immediately attracted the attention of one of his companions.

Without hesitation, Wayne seized the opportunity, cutting through the gap between the other two cavalrymen, his sword flashing—

"puff!"

The sword pierced the bandit's ribs and went straight to his heart.

The bandit's eyes widened, and the machete in his hand clattered to the ground.

The third bandit, seeing the situation was dire, tried to escape, but he was already surrounded by three cavalrymen and had no way to retreat.

Wayne joined the fight, and soon, the last two bandits fell in the snow.

The battle ended without them even firing a signal cannon.

Wayne flicked the blood off his sword, looked at the three new corpses on the ground, and a strange excitement mixed with a peculiar sense of security welled up inside him.

"Even if Ronald were here, he might not be able to kill enemies with this efficiency, right?"

He has indeed become stronger, strong enough to play a key role in actual combat.

The choice of Frostwolf bloodline was indeed correct; she possesses innate assassin abilities.

If I had chosen the Boiling Bloodline back then... I definitely wouldn't have had enough main force to fight the bandits, and I wouldn't have had as much room for maneuver.

However, after the practical experience of the encirclement and suppression, Wayne also felt that actual combat was much cruder than the theory in his mind.

Upon calm reflection, Wayne realized that given his own strength was greater than he had imagined, the commotion they had caused was still too great.

Whether it's the shouts of battle or the cries of bandits... it's unknown how far they can travel.

There is indeed a gap between practice and theory.

When you're mentally rehearsing, everything can seem perfect; but when you actually do it, there's always something unexpected going on.

"Sir, the fire has been extinguished."

Without needing to say anything more, Anko had already extinguished the flames beneath the cabin and was awaiting the lord's next instructions.

He looked at the cavalrymen around him—after the battle, their faces showed both the excitement of an initial victory and the tension of what might happen next.

And... after demonstrating their abilities, do they develop even more trust and admiration for themselves?

In their eyes, this annihilation battle might have relied on Wayne's powerful deployment capabilities and strength—something even Ronald hadn't accomplished.

Morale is decent, and no one has been injured... First of all, my own ideas are usable.

Wayne sorted out his thoughts: Maybe the commotion was just his imagination?

It's worth noting that snow has good sound absorption properties—he only heard the sounds of battle when he got very close.

Besides, it's already quite a lot for a bandit group to send out six people to scout; the bandits probably wouldn't be able to set up a chain of scouting strategies—nor would they have that many scouts.

"But we can't be too arrogant either."

After thinking it over, he finally decided to adopt a more conservative strategy.

"Next group, you all move inwards, leaving three or four sentries to patrol and relay messages a little further out... Don't ride horses."

Seeing the group still excited about the successful annihilation of the enemy, Wayne didn't decide to discourage them. Instead, he used the situation to assign tasks:

"I'll observe from the outside by myself—the messenger will be responsible for issuing orders as needed."

If the other side still sends out reconnaissance teams, we'll trade two or three houses for their lives, trapping them inside.

But if they send out their main force directly, everyone must retreat quickly and entangle them in the denser area of ​​the central houses!

You must bite down.

"yes!"

After saying that, the group went back to prepare, while Wayne returned to the west and gave Hank and the others the same task.

He himself found a wooden cabin with a better view and a higher elevation, and calmly waited for the next wave of enemies to arrive.

Wayne glanced at his pocket watch; it was only 2:30.

Hopefully, the other side will remain cautious and at least not send their main team in the next wave so soon...