Chapter 59: Chapter 59: The Ambush Ends

The clash of Fighting Energy stirred up the dust on the ground.

On the battlefield, Lambert engaged Haskell once more.

This time, Haskell was in the Blood Boiling State, his entire being resembling a beast, feeling almost no pain despite the continuous bleeding.

He roared, swinging his axe down, forcing Lambert to retreat several steps. The axe’s edge cracked Lambert’s chest armor, blood flowing through the fissure.

Lambert chose not to clash head-on but used agile maneuvers to delay time, preventing Haskell from getting close again.

“Haaahhh!!”

The surrounding Snow Swearers were also inspired by this strike, entering the Blood Boiling Frenzy and charging madly at the Red Tide Knights.

The Red Tide Knights reacted quickly, swiftly consolidating their formation amidst the chaotic battle.

But even with Louis’s foresight and pre-battle preparation, one young knight became careless.

Hit square in the chest by an axe, he was sent flying, crashing heavily against a stone wall, his spine fractured, dying instantly.

Lambert’s expression grew heavier upon witnessing this.

Although victory was assured, several knights would still be dragged down in this manner.

Moreover, warriors in the Blood Boiling State wouldn’t last long, so there was no need to confront them directly.

“Adjust formation, disperse!”

He shouted lowly, prompting the Red Tide Knights to swiftly change their tactics.

They distanced themselves, ceasing direct confrontation and resorted to mounted maneuverability and long-range harassment.

The Snow Swearers in the Blood Boiling State indeed didn’t last long, their movements gradually sluggish.

Their bodies began to suffer backlash: skin rupturing, mouth spitting blood, cries turning to wails.

“Ughhhhhh!”

Some Snow Swearers fell to the ground, rolling in pain.

Others chose to continue fighting through the agony, but their Fighting Energy was chaotic, hastening their own demise.

Lambert did not let the troops approach but continued to restrain with a war of attrition.

As long as they dragged it out, this battle would eventually belong to them.

Haskell still persisted, staggering to stand, his muscles rupturing, blood flowing down the axe handle to his fingertips.

His gaze had lost focus, yet he continued forward.

“Charge with me!!!”

He roared, with his last ounce of Fighting Energy, rushing at Lambert.

Lambert did not retreat this time, steadied his horse, and raised his lance to meet the enemy.

“Come on.”

The war axe and knight’s lance clashed mid-air; Haskell’s axe finally shattered, pieces of iron flying off.

His chest was also pierced through by Lambert’s lance, blood gushing forth.

However, he did not fall.

“I’ll drag you to hell with me!”

He shouted, pouncing forward, clutching Lambert like a beast.

Fighting Energy around him began to rampage, hot air permeating, ready to self-detonate and take Lambert down with him.

Thankfully, the nearby Red Tide Knight rushed forth, slashing horizontally with a sword, severing Haskell’s right arm, sending him flying.

Haskell fell heavily to the ground, Fighting Energy scattered, lying sideways, gazing at the sky.

The sunset was red as blood.

“Father… I… ultimately couldn’t…”

Before finishing his words, he unwillingly closed his eyes.

The battlefield returned to silence.

……

The dust had not yet settled, Yorn lay flat at the edge of the cliff, his mouth forming an “O” shape.

He had forgotten how many times he had been shocked.

The battle, starting from an ambush, falling rocks, arrows raining, to the three-front knight encirclement.

The whole process was as thrilling as performing a drama.

Each step was precise; each warrior coordinated seamlessly.

But on the opposite side were Snow Swearers and those terrifying Blood Boiling Frenzy fighters.

He initially thought the Red Tide Territory knights would pay a severe price, yet within half an hour, the situation was settled.

“I’ve… been shocked several times.” Yorn muttered softly.

He turned to the man beside him, his mouth twitching: “Boss, how exactly did you do it? Prophecy? Or do you have… connections with the Snow Swearers?”

Louis glanced at him lightly: “Shut up.”

He looked at the knights tidying the battlefield below and said, “A knight has died; this ambush can’t be considered successful.”

Yorn was taken aback by the words.

“Are you… serious?” His mind couldn’t comprehend for a moment.

His first reaction: this person was showing off.

But he dared not say.

Yorn recalled the entire battle, from the ambush setup, to the control of combat rhythm, and the restraint over the Blood Boiling Frenzy.

If he or Zachary, that arrogant and impulsive fellow, had knights encounter these madmen…

He even suspected if there would be time to react before being crushed into pulp by the madmen.

Total annihilation.

This word circled his mind.

Is this the enemy we’ll face in the future?

Duke Edmund clearly intended to push the Pioneer Lords from the South into a pit of corpses!

Yorn swallowed, his Adam’s apple moving up and down.

Previously, he only assumed Louis was slightly stronger than them, smarter, better at managing personnel and formation.

But now he understood, this isn’t a slight difference, it’s a world of difference.

That’s the level of overwhelmingly suppressing, hanging out to dry, and digging pits three days ahead for them to jump.

Not even the same scale.

A thought suddenly emerged in Yorn’s mind, unprecedentedly firm:

To cling to a powerful ally, he must cling unwaveringly.

He stood up briskly, dusting off, straightened his back, stood seriously beside Louis: “Boss, do you need money?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay!”

Yorn immediately shut up, with a smile, chest out, standing next to Louis.

A look of “I am your most loyal underling.”

Meanwhile, Louis stood on the cliff edge, gazing below at the blood-stained battlefield, pausing in silence.

Even with victory, a trace of fear lingered in his heart.

If not for the Daily Intelligence System’s warning, if not for preemptive traps and lines in this canyon, catching them off guard.

Red Tide Territory would absolutely not have won.

“The Snow Swearers’ Blood Boiling Frenzy, it’s too dangerous.” He muttered lowly. “If every future battle involves facing these madmen, it’ll truly be troublesome.”

We must quickly find a way to counter these warriors.”

At that moment, footsteps sounded from below.

It was Lambert, with bloodstains, his armor chipped at one corner, a diagonal wound on his shoulder, yet his expression remained calm.

He walked to Louis’s side, kneeling on one knee: “Sir, the battle is over, enemy forces completely annihilated.”

Louis nodded, speaking with approval: “Well done, Lambert.”

Lambert looked up, calmly saying: “Deservedly so.”

He paused for a moment, then continued asking: “How should we handle the enemy corpses?”

Louis glanced at the blood-stained valley floor, his voice cold: “Cut off their heads, leave none behind. Wash them clean and bag them.

I’ll send them to Count Fos as a gift.”

“`

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