I, Guinevere, am going to crush you, you curry stick, today!

……

"This is a really big problem."

Meanwhile, in a room filled with the faint scent of herbs, the purple-haired woman casually sketched several runes, which intertwined to form a blurry reflection on the water's surface. Looking at the things reflected within, she couldn't help but sigh softly.

Musashi sat back on the bed. Because of her recent travels and injuries, her usual brightly colored clothes, typical of a Kabuki, had been washed. Now she was wearing clothes conjured by Neov using her omnipotent runes—the same kind of clothes worn by children who were no different from outsiders. As an outsider who knew nothing about magic, Musashi was always subconsciously worried that the spell might suddenly malfunction, leaving her naked in front of others.

But after much deliberation, compared to the other option—the traditional corsets of the Picts—she was still more willing to take the potential risks. She wondered who had originally designed these shameless corsets; perhaps they, like herself, came from another world to design such avant-garde clothing…

As these thoughts swirled in her mind, the wounds on her body still throbbed with pain, but for this swordswoman who had faced life and death countless times, this level of pain was nothing new. She remained calm and composed, even when changing her dressings, she didn't flinch. This demeanor drew the attention of Jia'er and the other Picket warriors, who felt even greater respect for this powerful outsider.

Hearing Neof's voice, Musashi looked over and saw that in the blurry, misty image, there were still many gruesome corpses with missing limbs and disfigured appearances, gathering from all directions. Standing in the center was Leodogran, whom she had been searching for for a long time.

A tall, thin middle-aged man stood atop a large rock, sword in each hand. His face was expressionless, and his blank gaze swept over the assembled dead. It wasn't just humans; various wild beasts were mixed in, some reduced to mere white skeletons, still moving with a crackling sound. As far as the eye could see, they were densely packed; just those surrounding this area numbered at least several hundred, if not thousands.

Beyond the scenes, the thought of how many dead are awakening in the entire forest is a chilling one.

“We suddenly want to change our minds. The decapitation tactic that Guinevere mentioned might not be a very good idea,” Neov sighed, half-jokingly.

Musashi smirked: "Is it too late to bring them back now?"

"I'm afraid... it's too late."

The runes shifted, revealing another scene in an instant: a girl clad in jet-black armor was hiding among the branches of a towering tree, quietly parting the leaves in front of her to observe the situation ahead.

Beneath the tree, the horde of corpses staggered forward, stretching as far as the eye could see, like a surging tide. A phantom-colored pigeon flew silently past, while on another tree not far away, a disheveled old man was carefully adjusting his two- or three-meter-long giant bow.

With Niove's clone acting as a mouthpiece, the people in Tirnano maintained almost simultaneous information exchange with Orkney and Guinevere at this moment.

Upon learning that Leodogran was gathering a large army of the dead in the forest, Guinevere made a decision without much hesitation—she would cooperate with King Perinoa to capture Leodogran immediately and restore her father to his original state as quickly as possible!

Otherwise, if this massive army were allowed to leave the forest, she dared not even imagine what would happen next.

Although the Wind Mark could achieve near-invisibility, the girl remained extremely vigilant. No one knew how these dead people observed their surroundings; if they didn't rely on sight and hearing, then manipulating the wind would be meaningless.

Fortunately, the corpses did not seem to find any trace of her and King Perinoa.

Silently counting down from one hundred in her mind, she looked up at the tree opposite her. The distance from here to Leodogran was about one hundred and fifty meters. Perinoa's full-force arrow was enough to shatter the mountain peak and clear a path for her.

Opportunity is fleeting.

Guinevere slowly exhaled, her body stretching silently out on the branch.

Failure is not an option!

P.S.: I've been stuck on this chapter for two days, trying several different approaches, and I've decided it's a bit dry. But I can't let it sit for another day... Well, that's it for now. Remember to vote, everyone!

Next chapter preview (fake): "It said, it's time to go."

Please accept this small token of my concern.

Stay tuned!

Chapter 207 Strange Change

Compared to their terrifying appearance, these "resurrected" dead don't seem so formidable.

The Scottish soldiers, who had been on high alert, found their fear, which had lingered since dawn, fading considerably after witnessing wave after wave of corpses staggering towards the city walls only to be struck by druid lightning and wiped out before they could even reach them.

But what followed was a hint of contempt and smugness that perhaps even they themselves were unaware of.

He's just a guy of this caliber.

It looks scary, but it's actually quite vulnerable.

“Even the bandits I wiped out last month were more formidable than these moving corpses.” One of the soldiers even whispered to the person next to him when his superior wasn’t looking, “It looks like Master Klark alone is enough to hold them off. We don’t even need to step in.”

"Shut up. Those people are our comrades."

Being glared at, the soldier couldn't help but shrink back, muttering resentfully, "Just a former comrade. He's dead now, who cares about all that..." Although he prided himself on his courage, he knew to lower his voice. Even though the battle seemed harmless, if his superiors found out he was slacking off, he would at least get a beating when he returned to the barracks—the beating would even be done with salt water first, it was truly inhuman.

As darkness fell, the corpses continued to approach from the north in waves, slowly but surely. The soldier secretly glanced toward the fortress and saw the young druid master raise one hand. Amidst the gathering dark clouds, dazzling lightning bolts rained down, "greeting" each enemy that got close enough.

It is like a giant golden wall standing towards the sky, which no one can cross.

This is the power of the Druids. This is an extraordinary power beyond the imagination of ordinary people. Unlike those magic tricksters who mingle among bandits and thieves and can only light a small flame, there are said to be only a dozen or so masters of such profound magic as Klark in the entire Britain.

With him in charge, this Antony Wall should be incredibly sturdy, and no enemy could breach it... At this moment, the soldier felt a faint sense of pride.

He was fortunate enough to witness, and even participate in, this battle firsthand. This feeling was perhaps what knights often referred to as "honor." As he thought this, he suddenly saw a Pict, or perhaps a Pict whose body was half charred and only half remained, stumble through the intertwined lightning and appear between the city walls and the area covered by the lightning barrier.

Normally, seeing such a bloody and horrifying scene would have scared him so much that he would have wet himself on the spot. But at this moment, instead of fear, a surge of heroic spirit welled up in his heart: "It's time to show us what we're made of!" As this thought arose, a bowstring twanged, and an arrow shot through the air, piercing the half-eaten chest of the Pict man, who fell to the ground.

At this distance, one could clearly see that almost the entire arrow had pierced through the man's flesh, with only a small section of its snow-white tail feathers visible, still trembling.

On this section of the city wall, an archer renowned for his archery skills slowly lowered his famous bow. Cheers suddenly erupted, echoing all around. Moments later, the second corpse finally made its way to this buffer zone, where it was met with dozens of arrows raining down from the sky.

Arrows rained down.

"The morale of the troops is high." Pat smiled with satisfaction as he looked at the soldiers with high spirits, but Baroness Skye beside him frowned: "This volley is a bit of a waste."

"Don't be stingy with these few arrows. Most importantly, no one has been frightened by these corpses, and with Lord Klark's magic proving so effective, it seems there's no suspense in this battle."

Pat waved his hand, feeling quite pleased with the one-sided battle, when suddenly a cold voice interrupted from the side: "I hope Your Highness doesn't really think so." It was Duncan. He had a stern face and a serious expression: "In my eyes, this war is far from being a cause for optimism."

"Sir Duncan, you may speak frankly about your thoughts."

As if a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head, Pat's smile froze instantly. What annoyed him was that he couldn't show any disrespect to this old minister whom his father valued. He could only force a smile and try to soften his tone as he asked.

“Even now, we don’t know the exact number of the enemy. The thousands Sir Klark mentioned are just a rough estimate of the number of people lingering on the edge of the forest… and the Great Forest is so vast.” Duncan paused. “Moreover, under Sir Klark’s lightning, some have already begun to slip through the net.”

Thanks to the princess's deliberate or unintentional popularization, many idioms originating from the East have appeared in Scotland earlier than expected, even with some young people adopting the princess's way of speaking. Duncan also habitually uses some words that traditional aristocrats would consider "strange," using this relatively roundabout way to express his attitude.

In contrast, Pat and his more steadfast followers deliberately avoided certain colloquialisms and habits that Guinevere had "created" or popularized in their daily lives.

Hearing Duncan utter words that clearly concerned his sister again, Duncan's expression turned somewhat unpleasant: "That's not necessarily true. It's also possible that Lord Klark deliberately sent over a few small fry so our soldiers could practice, instead of just standing there watching—how boring! Am I right?"

As the two conversed, another wave of the dead perished in a rain of lightning. Klark, seemingly taking the time to recover his strength, paused upon hearing Pat's words, then a gentle smile appeared on his face: "Your Highness understands me best. Considering that appropriate engagement would help the soldiers overcome their fear of these dead, I let a few... monsters pass by. I apologize for acting on my own initiative without prior notice, Your Highness."

"It doesn't matter."

Seeing Duncan give a cold snort and turn away without saying a word, Pat felt a surge of pleasure and was extremely pleased with Klark's attitude. Just as he was about to say something more to encourage his beloved general and friend, and while thinking about what he could say to further annoy that stubborn "Stone" Earl, his gaze swept across the area covered by lightning, and after a few seconds, he abruptly turned back.

"What it is?"

The lightning that Klark had been unleashing to maintain the barrier had only just stopped, revealing a charred, smoky patch of ground and the mangled remains of those struck by lightning. Many eyes, including Pat's, immediately fell upon this land ravaged by the lightning.

“Magic… a massive amount of magic is gathering.” Klark murmured. Another baroness named Skye had already taken a step forward, her hand on the edge of the fortress wall. She stared ahead in disbelief, her mouth agape, but she couldn’t utter a word.

Countless severed limbs and remains lay scattered on the ground, and at this moment, under the influence of some strange force, this flesh and blood began to writhe eerily. Little by little, those pieces that still retained their shape, or those completely blasted into a pool of gruesome fragments, slowly floated into the air. Under the watchful eyes of the people on the city wall, countless pieces of flesh and blood gradually converged from all directions, seemingly forming a single entity…

Klark was the first to take action.

With a "whoosh," he drew his sword, raised it high above his head, and the ancient runes on the sword immediately shone. The defensive barrier of the Great Wall was instantly drawn in, thunder roared, and golden snakes danced wildly. As Klark swung his sword down, hundreds and thousands of bolts of lightning simultaneously condensed into a magnificent and grand golden giant sword, which slammed down hard on the twisted and grotesque mass of flesh and blood in mid-air, which was filled with a blasphemous aura!

"break--"

The intense light was so concentrated that everything around seemed to dim suddenly. To the average person, the moment the giant sword formed from lightning fell was silent. They could only watch as the sword of retribution, like a god descending, struck the flesh that seemed to be alive.

Almost everyone could imagine what would happen next: the unstoppable Heavenly Thunder Sword easily purified all evil.

But this moment seemed to last far too long.

The world remained deathly silent. Everything moved like lightning, yet as slowly as if it were the end of the world. Every ordinary person present witnessed the mass of flesh suddenly split open, from which emerged a blood-red arm, as if its skin had been peeled off. It had only three fingers, each with five joints, and each joint was about a meter long. At first glance, it looked as if three scarlet saplings had suddenly sprouted from the sky. The three fingers slowly opened and grasped the majestic Heavenly Thunder Sword.

Click——click——

With a sharp crack, as if it were an illusion, the bloody hand exerted a slight force with its three fingers, and Klark's powerful sword strike shattered instantly. The gathered lightning then scattered in all directions, even affecting the Anthony Wall. Although several highly skilled individuals immediately intervened to block, a section of the wall still shattered on the spot, with stone chips flying everywhere. Amidst the huge roar, the soldiers on it screamed and fell to the ground.

The druid himself groaned, staggered back several steps, his legs gave way, and he collapsed to the ground. His longsword shattered into several pieces, and when he turned his head, he coughed up a large pool of blood.

The aftershocks of the lightning struck the city wall directly—only a few understood what this meant. Duncan was one of them. He had just drawn his sword to deflect the scattered lightning bolts aimed at them, and looking at Pat beside him, whose expression was still somewhat blank, staring blankly at the giant bloody hand, his face changed: "The barrier is gone..."

The count looked up, and in the midst of the chaos, the three-fingered bloody hand crashed down, collapsing another section of the city wall. On the open ground, more flesh and blood were rapidly gathering, and a blood-red giant, as if it were something out of a rural folktale, gradually appeared in his and all of their sight.

In comparison, Scotland's proud Antony Wall looks like a tiny fence...

……

Within the dense forest, the atmosphere was tense, ready to erupt at any moment. Perinoa was slowly drawing back the massive bow, which possessed the power to shatter mountains, intending to force a path through the dense horde of corpses.

But just as the bowstring was about to be fully drawn, a small white shadow suddenly flashed in his vision. The old man was slightly startled, and his tense mind relaxed. Fortunately, he did not loosen his grip on the bowstring, otherwise the sound of the bowstring would not have been concealed by Guinevere's wind mark.

Are you dazzled?

He blinked, then squeezed his eyes shut, and opened them again, only to see that small figure he had seen once before. But why was it here...?

"King Perinoa?"

Neof's voice echoed from the depths of his heart. The old man licked his lips and replied in his mind, "Tell the little girl that the situation has changed, and to wait a little longer."

"What's wrong? Wait a minute, could that little thing be...?"

Even without the old man's explanation, the purple-haired woman who was using rune magic to spy on the area in Tirnano also noticed the snow-white figure that seemed out of place with the tense atmosphere.

It was a really strange little animal—it looked somewhat like a kitten, but had long ears and long, fluffy fur that was as white as snow. It looked more like a pet kept by a nobleman than a wild beast, and its whole body exuded an aura of harmlessness.

But this very same adorable little animal strutted arrogantly over the heads of the corpses, seemingly heading straight for Leodogran.

On the other side, Guinevere also noticed the small animal that had suddenly appeared. Although she was curious about where it came from, seeing that it seemed to want to die, she had a sudden thought. Before she could stop it, she heard Neov's voice—her tone was more urgent than ever before: "Stop thinking about anything right now, stay there, don't move, don't think, don't make any noise!"

"what happened?"

Although surprised, trusting the purple-haired woman, the girl remained still as instructed, only wondering to herself, "Is it related to that little animal?"

"Small animals……"

Inside the holy site, Neof's expression suddenly became somewhat strange: "That's Cathy Palug, the offspring of the demon boar Heneven. You should have heard of that name before..."

Before she could finish speaking...

Leodogran seemed to have noticed the "guest" blatantly approaching. Normally, he would be tolerant and friendly towards such cute little animals, but this was clearly an exception. Without any extra movement, he raised his hand, and his short sword flashed in a brilliant arc, catching the little animal just as it leaped up. A cold light flashed, and it looked like it was about to slice the creature in two!

"...The three-eyed monster cat that can stop a child from crying, one of the most terrifying monsters in the North."

However, Cathy Palug suddenly swayed in mid-air, and in the blink of an eye, she appeared in front of Leodogran, limbs outstretched, her large, furry tail lashing out like a steel whip at the middle-aged man's face, accompanied by a rather intimidating growl:

"Fu——"

With a "bang," he was sent flying!

Chapter 208 Fu!

"Fu!"

As the saying goes, you can't judge a book by its cover—and the same goes for cats. With its tiny frame, it possessed an unimaginable explosive power. With a flick of its tail, a seemingly playful attack actually struck Leodogran, who was known for his speed, sending him flying.

Guinevere, hidden among the leaves, stared in disbelief at the scene before her, recalling how she had just been about to rush out to rescue the "kitten" that had wandered in. To be honest, even she herself wasn't sure she could have done it so easily, as if it were child's play, sending the creature flying with a single blow... Thinking of this, she couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions.

But this blow was clearly not enough to cause Leodogran any real harm; at most, it only surprised him—if he still had that emotion at that moment.

His body spun halfway through the air and crashed heavily into a large tree behind him, causing leaves to fall to the ground in a flurry. A moment later, the man stood up unsteadily, clutching his neck. With a few soft "clicks," he kicked up the fallen twin swords with his toes, reached out and grasped them, and dark smoke began to swirl around his body.

The strange cat named Cathy Palug remained haughty, showing no fear even amidst the horde of corpses. With graceful movements, like a nimble cat, it landed lightly on the head of a corpse, tilting its head back to meet Leodogran's gaze, its imposing presence in no way inferior.

As expected of the famous three-eyed cat... Guinevere subconsciously held her breath, not daring to move, as she intently watched this unique confrontation. The two sides seemed to be scrutinizing each other, neither making a move. For a moment, even the air seemed to stand still, a complete silence, with only the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves and passing through the woods.

It was a tense atmosphere, like an arrow on a bowstring, ready to be released at any moment.

In this atmosphere, one's perception of time often becomes extremely subtle. In the girl's judgment, less than a minute had passed since Cathy appeared, yet it felt as if half an hour had gone by. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew between the person and the cat, bringing a slightly yellowed leaf.

The leaf fell from the sky, gently and slowly, between Leodogland and Cathy Palug. In that instant, the leaf became the center of the world, all eyes following it, awaiting that moment.

The leaves fell—

"Foo! Fufu!"

It was precisely at the moment when the leaves obscured the view of the person and the cat that both of them made their movements simultaneously!

The black mist spread, completely transforming Leodogran into the form of a shadow spirit. On the other side, Cathy suddenly let out a scream. It turned out that the corpse she was standing on raised its hands, grabbed her tightly, and lifted her into the air.

It futilely thrashed its short arms and legs, its tail swishing back and forth, making the corpse's head shake left and right, but it could not break free of its restraints, looking both helpless and pitiful.

The people who saw this scene reacted in different ways:

Neof was so surprised her eyes almost popped out, all traces of her former mystery vanishing: "Cathy... a fake Cathy Palug?"

Musashi, lying on the bed, was gasping for breath because he had aggravated his wound from trying to suppress his laughter; Perinoa, on the other hand, seemed to have known all along, his face twitching as he tried to laugh but held back from making a sound.

Although Guinevere was slightly taken aback by the contrast, seeing that her opponent had been captured and was in imminent danger—in her opinion, those guys below would not let this little cat go just because it looked pitiful—she couldn't care less about anything else. With a thought, the air suddenly expanded, and a wind bullet shot out, striking Leodogran, who was raising his longsword.

The latter reacted immediately, and with a swing of his short sword, he shattered the sneak attack, turning it into a small whirlwind that sent the surrounding fallen leaves flying.

However, just as the head shrouded in black mist raised, the girl was a step faster. Her petite body leaned slightly forward and leaped off the tree branch. She was in mid-air, her sword blade raised high, its brilliance shining, illuminating the surroundings in a white light, making everything invisible!