Chapter 71: Chapter 71: Fallen in Battle

“Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!”

A few curse bullets hit a corner of the city wall, and the magic corrosion spread like vines, finally causing a section of the wall to collapse with a crash.

A breach has appeared!

“Charge! Seize it!” Barnes roared, his voice penetrating the battlefield.

The Snow Swearer’s troops poured in through the breach like a flood.

The knights defending the city immediately engaged, trying to plug the gap.

But they soon found that the advancing formation of the Snow Swearers was flawless.

An Official Knight raised his sword to charge, only to be pierced through his armor by a spear the next second, thrown off his horse.

He struggled to get up, but was immediately stabbed through the chest by a second spear, pinning him to the stone slab.

As the battle line continued to advance, screams echoed from the flanks, as the Wolf Cavalry cut in from the side, tearing through the defenses in the alleys.

The knight forces trying to protect the streets attempted to resist at the alley entrance, but within minutes they were crushed, leaving only the sound of wolf hooves trampling over corpses in the fiery streets.

The most intense fighting was on the east side of the main gate.

An old Northern Knights Order stationed there fell into a melee. Initially, their formation was solid enough to organize counterattacks.

But the next wave of enemies was a group of incredibly fast Snow Oath Warriors, like wild dogs springing from the darkness.

No commands, no formations.

They moved silently yet synchronously, tackling, slicing throats, dismembering.

A knight had just struck the enemy down when, turning around, he was stabbed in the back by a short blade, unable to utter a sound.

“Keep your formation! Those are Mad Wolf Warriors!” a seasoned captain shouted with exhaustion, but no one heard clearly.

More were pinned at the street corner, dragged into the shadows of the flames.

Screams on the battlefield increased, yet they were all brief and swift.

As if those knights never existed at all.

Within minutes, the entire position was cleared, blood soaking the ground with a pungent stench.

The last resistance at the city gate extinguished.

The Empire’s knights began to flee.

And the Snow Swearers continued to advance, like silent reapers, inch by inch from the fog.

In the firelight, the Empire’s banner finally fell.

“Hahahahahahaha!”

Barnes stood at the edge of the ruins, watching the tattered golden-red fabric consumed by flames, laughing in exhilaration.

The Imperial Army’s defense line couldn’t hold for an hour.

Resistance burned briefly like paper, only to turn to ashes.

With the main street breached and the inner city defenses collapsing, Snow Eagle City was officially declared fallen.

The knights, losing their command, fled in panic, and the nobility even more so, undignifiedly scrambling to escape the city, even trampling over their fallen confidants in their flight.

“Don’t stop me! I’m a Viscount! I’m Imperial Nobility!”

“I can pay! I have gold!”

Lamentations and shouts mixed with blood and fire, but the Snow Swearers stayed silent, only bent on slaughter.

In front of a ruin, Viscount Fisher stumbled forward, his face ingratiating, blocking Barnes’ path.

“My lord! It’s me! Fisher! It was I who sent out the defense map of Snow Eagle City!”

He patted his chest, speaking urgently, “That map, I sent it out myself! Without me, how could you have succeeded so smoothly?”

Barnes squinted at him, a nearly joyful expression on his face.

“So it was you!” he laughed, placing a hand on Fisher’s shoulder, “A good dog indeed.”

Viscount Fisher, hearing this, his eyes filled with wild joy, his body stopped trembling.

“Deserves reward,” Barnes said with a smile.

Fisher was about to respond when a flash of silver suddenly swept by.

“Reward you with a good end.”

The long knife had already fallen.

The Viscount’s head rolled into the pool of blood, his face still bearing a smug expression, forever frozen there.

Meanwhile, on the other side, at the western alley of the city, Baron Zachary led his remaining knights scrambling out of a side gate.

Though his knights were barely one in ten.

After crossing the last line of defense, he finally mounted his horse, looking back at the burning city.

The fire consumed the tall towers of Snow Eagle City, billowing thick black smoke, and screams audible from afar.

“As long as the green hills remain, there will be no fear of firewood. Being alive is good enough.”

He heaved a sigh of relief, carrying the joy of surviving the calamity, as he galloped away into the distance.

Afraid that if he ran any slower, he would be cut down by the Snow Swearers.

Elsewhere, the blockade outside the city had long been set up.

The Snow Swearers blocked the alleys, city gates, sewers, and even set ambushes at the secret passages.

A few of the noble families’ guards broke through, but more were directly cut down in the chaos.

Cries, pleas for mercy, and blood mixed with dense smoke and smoldering embers.

The entire Snow Eagle City became a slaughterhouse.

The city could not be defended.

On one side of the battlefield, Viscount Webster, wearing damaged plate armor, stood amidst the ruins, blood flowing from his forehead, dripping onto his cloak.

He looked at the tide of enemy forces surging ahead, his hand on the sword hilt, eyes as heavy as iron.

Issuing the final orders to the remaining knights:

“First unit, escort Little Fors and break through as far as possible.”

“Second unit, ignite the granary and treasury, let those bastards get nothing.”

“Third unit!” He paused, gazing at the Mad Wolf Warriors charging from afar, “Follow me, block those wild dogs.”

The knights spoke no further words, mounting horses, drawing swords, each breaking out in different directions.

And Webster gripped his war knife tightly, taking a deep breath, he suddenly stepped forward.

In the next moment, the ground shook violently, stones flying!

Fighting Energy erupted suddenly, a striking azure glow tearing the mist, forming a chasm in the night sky.

Webster unsheathed his sword, his figure becoming an azure streak, instantly slicing through the bone armor and throats of three Mad Wolf Warriors ahead.

“Follow me to kill!!!”

The Personal Guard Knights roared, closely following behind.

But he was too fast, like a blue thunderbolt slashing alone into the enemy ranks.

The Mad Wolf Warriors were fierce and crazy, yet in his presence, they fell like straw.

Someone thrust a spear at him, he turned and slashed off the arm.

Several lunged with chaotic blades, he repelled them with Fighting Energy, countering with one strike to cut three in half!

Sweat and blood mixing, he fought over a dozen continually moving forward, like a dying yet proud lion.

He even once broke through the Mad Wolf Formation, closing in on where Barnes was, the sword light approaching.

But as time passed, the Fighting Energy of this aged Extraordinary Knight continually weakened, wounds accumulating, blood drenching.

Until the final blow severed his knee, he kneeled on the shattered street.

Behind him were the burning granaries and fallen streets and alleys.

Before him was the dark tide of the Snow Swearers and the roaring screams that echoed to the sky.

He gazed up at the Imperial Dragon Flag trampled into the mud, his chest heaving heavily, blood trickling from his lips.

“Old comrades… I’m sorry…” he murmured, voice faint as the wind, “May that child… escape…”

His eyes slowly shut, the last of his Fighting Energy quietly extinguishing on his sword.

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