Transmigrated with a Demon-Refining Pot: Hehehe, Refine in an instant

In any case, this battle was inevitable.

Ron's side integrated the strength of the entire settlement, gathering 160,000 to 170,000 people, more than the population of the duchy.

The Duchy of Brass only had 120,000 people, and they had to leave some of their forces behind to defend the duchy and guard against neighboring countries taking advantage of their misfortune.

However, this is only the difference in ordinary troop strength. At the level of knights, the duchy has an absolute advantage.

On Ron's side, the only formal knights are Aiba and a few others, while others can easily gather forty or fifty, not to mention the scattered grand knights.

So this battle won't be easy; it mainly depends on Ron and Margaret.

As long as they can hold their own against the Duke of Windsor and the Brass Dragon.

Only then could they truly establish themselves.

Over the course of several days, the atmosphere on both sides became increasingly tense.

Scouts moved back and forth across the wasteland, and small-scale skirmishes occurred daily. Ron did not order an attack, nor did Windsor.

Both sides are waiting for the right opportunity.

On the morning of the fifth day, the sound of horns came from the ducal camp.

Ron stood outside the tent, gazing at the southern horizon. The grey clouds hung low, and a summer breeze blew in from the south. Margaret lay behind him, her silvery scales gleaming coldly in the morning light, her tail drooping gently on the ground.

"Is the fight about to begin?" Margaret's voice echoed in his mind.

"They couldn't hold back any longer." Ron climbed on top of them.

"Let's go, let's show them what's what."

Margaret spread her wings and gave a powerful flap. Her silvery-white figure soared into the sky, tracing an arc in the air, and flew towards the duchy's camp.

On the wasteland, the two armies had already formed their ranks.

On the ducal side, the army of 120,000 was arranged in three square formations, with spears like a forest, and cavalry spread out on both flanks.

In the very center of the formation, a brass dragon lay prone on the ground, its golden scales resembling a thick suit of armor. The Grand Duke of Windsor sat astride the dragon's back, his face expressionless. Behind him stood a dense phalanx of knights, their armor gleaming, their banners fluttering in the wind.

On Ron's side, an army of 160,000 men covered the entire wasteland, but their banners were of all kinds, their formations were loose, and their equipment was of varying quality.

Those soldiers who surrendered to the lord were fine in a winning game, but if they were really taken to the open battlefield, they would be lucky to even hold their ground.

Ron didn't expect them to win; he just wanted them to avoid a rout and wait for him and Margaret to settle things with their opponents.

Margaret circled once in the air before landing in front of her own army. The ground trembled as she landed, and the bronze dragon opposite her raised its head, glanced in their direction, and let out a low growl.

Ron rode on Margaret's back, looking across the vast wilderness at Windsor.

The battle was started by the brass dragon.

It opened its mouth, and a golden flame shot out. It was pure dragon fire breath, so hot that it distorted the air.

Flames ripped through the sky, crashing down on the left flank of the Silver Army.

Margaret moved. Instead of rushing forward, she glided sideways, avoiding the trail of flames, and at the same time opened her mouth, unleashing a torrent of frost-covered dragon breath.

A pale blue chill enveloped the front ranks of the duchy's formation, instantly freezing hundreds of soldiers into ice sculptures.

"spread!"

The officers of the principality shouted.

The formation began to move, but there were too many people. Those in the front row tried to run away, while those in the back row pushed forward, creating chaos.

Margaret took the opportunity to exhale two more breaths of cold air, each breath taking the lives of hundreds of people.

Windsor's expression changed. He patted the brass dragon's neck, and the dragon soared into the air, lunging at Margaret.

The two dragons met in the air.

Brass dragons take longer to reach adulthood, so they are larger, have thicker scales, and are more powerful.

But Margaret is no less impressive; nourished by the serum, her physique is hardly that of someone who has just entered adulthood.

It held its own against the brass dragon in a head-on collision, and was even more agile and faster.

"Get entangled with it," he said to Margaret.

Margaret accelerated suddenly, crashing headfirst into the brass dragon's belly. The two behemoths collided, their scales scraping together with a piercing sound and sparks flying.

Ron seized the opportunity to leap up and thrust his gun at Windsor.

Windsor raised his weapon to parry, the two guns clashed, and their battle aura exploded. Ron was shaken and his arm was a little sore.

But the Duke of Windsor on the other side was also not having an easy time. His hands were numb. He obviously did not expect that Ron, a great knight, could actually fight him. Is this the power of a dragon knight?

The initial probing has ended.

After several direct confrontations, Margaret took the initiative to distance herself.

Ron's idea was to confront the brass dragon head-on; he needed to test the combined strength of the Grand Duke of Windsor and the brass dragon first.

Let's see if the combination of myself and Margaret can stop them. Sure enough, even Windsor, a titled knight, and the brass dragon couldn't do anything to them for a while.

Ron was relieved.

Golden flames occasionally erupted from the brass dragon, and Margaret constantly dodged them. Ron rode on the dragon's back, feeling every flap of Margaret's wings and every turn.

He drew his ten-meter-long dragon spear and poured his fighting spirit into it. Don't underestimate him just because he's only a great knight.

But he has a strong physique and great strength, which is not necessarily worse than Windsor's third-tier physique, and he also has the bonus of being a dragon knight.

He can occasionally exchange blows with Windsor.

The Duke of Windsor was extremely aggrieved by the beating.

Finally, realizing that cooperating with the brass dragon wasn't working, he simply stopped riding the dragon and started fighting independently.

But this point didn't change anything; the attacks on Margaret did increase, but Windsor was struggling to withstand them.

At this moment, the difference between a dragon and a knight, both at level three, becomes apparent.

The knight's attacks were not bad either, but while the dragon could withstand a hundred hits, the knight would vomit blood after being hit twice.

"Windsor, if you're not a dragon knight, don't try to force your way in."

Is this a meeting you should be at?

"Arrogant!" Windsor roared in fury, raising her gun to attack again.