Chapter 75: Chapter 75: Harvest

After the explosion, the gorge returned to a brief silence.

The next moment, wails intermittently emerged from the depths of the ruins.

“Help… help… uh…”

“My leg… ah ah ah!!”

“Stay away from that black mist! Cough, cough…”

Voices filled with heart-wrenching fear drifted in the thick smoke, echoing in the hollow valley.

The air was filled with the smell of burning, blood, and a stench like a mix of sulfur and rotting flesh.

Some knights’ armor was corrosively pitted with blood and flesh sticking to it, and they couldn’t even scream, just opened their mouths to spit out foam and blood.

Someone tumbled to the ground, desperately crawling upwards, half of their body charred, half frostbitten, skin peeling off in chunks, revealing bloody muscles and stark white bones underneath.

A war wolf had half its body blown apart, intestines dragging in the snow, yet it still twitched unconsciously, paws scrabbling, as if still searching for its already charred master.

The whole valley seemed to have been dragged into hell.

And this was all a result of Louis’s prior planning, the outcome of foreseeing information and precise calculations.

Bond stood on high ground, looking at the valley below, his throat tightened, his mind went blank.

He had participated in many wars, seen battlefields piled high with corpses.

He had also seen with his own eyes the scene of a stronger Magic Explosion Bullet detonating on the battlefield.

But this was the first time he saw this kind of Magic Explosion Bullet used in conjunction with traps, precise, efficient, thorough, with almost no survivors.

“Is this… hell…” Bond murmured.

This wasn’t an explosion; it was a meticulously planned execution.

As if every corpse’s falling place had been planned before the war started.

Bond turned his head to look at the instigator beside him.

That person stood calmly, just quietly watching below, with a slight smile in his eyes.

Like a playwright appreciating his own work.

“What is this…” Bond struggled to speak.

Louis turned his head, blinked: “Magic Explosion Bullet.”

His tone was light as if introducing a favorite toy: “I call it Ice and Fire Two Realms.”

Bond’s Adam’s apple rolled, he swallowed: “What an incredible Ice and Fire Two Realms.”

As he said this, his eyes were still fixated on the burning scorched earth in the valley below.

A young man who seemed rather gentle could do such a thing.

This young noble is truly terrifying.

Bond was not the only one who was fearful and shocked.

Yorn stood in place, unmoving for a long time.

He stared wide-eyed at that dead silent valley, seemingly unable to accept the reality before him.

Eight hundred elite Snow Swearers obliterated with no remains in just a few minutes?

“This, this is too outrageous…”

He murmured, his throat dry, cold sweat running down his back.

But after the shock, a strong sense of relief welled up.

Fortunately!

Fortunately, he followed Louis.

Yorn thought of the tragic state of Snow Eagle City, those mountains of corpses and seas of blood, the heads hanging on the city walls, and countless cries…

He hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, but just hearing about it gave him nightmares for several nights.

If it weren’t for Louis, if it weren’t for him mindlessly raising his hand then and following Louis to Qingyu Ridge…

Now he would probably already be a corpse in Snow Eagle City, right?

Yorn looked at the figure not far away, his heart shook violently.

“I can never repay the boss’s kindness in this lifetime…” he said lowly, his eyes more determined than ever.

He must cling tightly to Louis’s thigh!

The surrounding knights and soldiers were also silent, the look in their eyes towards Louis had quietly changed.

No longer was it simple obedience, nor just ordinary respect.

It was immense reverence.

It was an emotion that only arises after witnessing a “miracle”.

As the poisonous mist dissipated slightly, the thick smell of burning still lingered in the air.

Louis stood at the edge of the valley entrance, looking down at that snowfield devoured by war.

He seemed calm, his tone steady: “Knight Order, put on protective leather masks and clean up the battlefield. Beware of remaining poison gas and any escaped fish.”

“Yes!”

The Red Tide Knights swiftly took action, each wearing protective masks made from beast hides and herbs, forming ranks and stepping into the outskirts of the valley with long-handled weapons.

The ground beneath their feet had been blasted to pieces, charred and bloodstains congealed into a layer of pitch-black muck, stepping on it felt like entering a rotten swamp.

The sweep was very smooth.

This elite force of eight hundred Snow Swearers was originally known for high mobility and strong collaboration.

After witnessing the scene of hell, they were no longer well-trained warriors, just a group of panicked beasts.

Now barely a hundred could stand up, all broken in spirit and physically exhausted.

Although a few escapees tried to counterattack.

Several remaining Snow Swearers staggered together, trying to muster one last ounce of morale, wielding battle blades, charging at the Red Tide Knights’ defensive line.

“Charge!!”

“For the swear—”

Before their shouts could fall, they were pierced by spears, their voices drowned in the sound of throats being torn, consumed by blood.

Without unified command, without the will to win, how could they withstand the Red Tide soldiers?

The uncoordinated counterattack before the tight formation of the Red Tide Knights was like an egg hitting a rock.

“Don’t kill me! I surrender!”

“I beg you…”

Cries for help echoed in the valley, but no one responded.

The Red Tide Knights continued to advance calmly, like death itself, reaping the last remnants of resistance.

Many enemies had also gone mad from the Magic Explosion Bullet.

They sat paralyzed on the ground, hair disheveled, curled up in a ball, muttering to themselves, eyes vacant.

Toward these enemies, the Red Tide Knights showed no mercy, directly beheading them, giving them a swift end.

With the final charge of the Red Tide Knights, the battlefield returned to silence.

After half an hour of slaughter, the last enemy soldier collapsed with a crash, blood soaking the valley earth.

“Clean-up complete!”

“Enemy forces completely annihilated!”

Hoarse and fervent shouting erupted from the dust and fog.

The soldiers raised their weapons high, emotions suppressed for long finally bursting forth.

“We won!!!”

“Long live Lord Calvin!!!”

They surged excitedly toward Louis, their gazes filled with respect and fervor.

Originally, they thought this was a battle to the death.

Eight hundred elite Snow Swearers against two hundred defenders, even fighting to the death might not hold.

In their hearts, they were prepared to sacrifice their lives for this battle.

But unexpectedly, this brutal battle they internally anticipated…

Ended so easily.

The enemy died too fast, so fast it felt surreal.

But the remains on the ground and the poison mist not yet entirely dissipated told them: this was real.

They survived, and won effortlessly.

And the one who brought this all ——

Was that young baron standing calmly on the valley, eyes indifferent.

Louis Calvin.

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