Chapter 102: The First Step of Revenge（1）

“Bang!”

The punch was vicious and sudden. Adrian was smashed straight to the ground, his nose shattered instantly, blood spraying out as if it cost nothing.

A wave of shocked cries erupted around them.

“You fucking dare hit me? You’re dead! Bastard!” Adrian’s eyes were filled with disbelief and hatred. He staggered back in a miserable heap. “Kill him for me!”

“Yapping like a dog.” Phield showed no restraint. He moved to throw another punch—but the moment he saw Adrian’s Divine Chosen raise her hand, he stepped back several paces.

He still remembered being grabbed by the throat and thrown aside last time. She wouldn’t dare kill a noble in public—but beating him half to death? That, she absolutely could do.

“You dare harm my lord. Unforgivable.”

Alison had never expected Phield to attack her lord a second time right in front of her. Shocked and furious, she unleashed her divine power. Fire butterflies burst into existence one after another, each containing terrifying explosive heat.

Phield’s hand instinctively went to the Greatsword of Gluttony.

“Kill that bitch, Phield!” Rosalia was already shrieking in his mind. “I’ll chop them into countless pieces!”

“Enough!”

A terrifying blade of battle aura crashed down, carving a bottomless fissure straight through the earth.

Regin stood with arms folded, issuing a warning. “Are you going to start infighting in front of everyone? We are suppressing a rebellion. Anyone who draws weapons will be punished under Imperial military law!”

“Who the hell are you? He hit me first! Damn it—my face!” Adrian clutched his nose, blood streaming between his fingers. His speech was slurred.

Regin’s voice remained utterly flat as he pointed his sword at Adrian. “I will not repeat myself. Maintain your dignity as nobles. Do not bring shame upon your family.”

Phield released his greatsword and shrugged. “Of course. I’ll give the lord his due respect.”

He knew it wouldn’t escalate. In full public view, no other noble would dare kill him—and likewise, he couldn’t kill Adrian. That would be challenging the authority of the entire Empire.

Besides, there was no advantage in fighting now. Landing that punch was already profit.

“Good.” Regin nodded. He appreciated those who knew when to stop.

“Damn it…” Adrian fumed.

Phield stepped closer instead, smiling faintly as he spoke in a low voice to the two of them.

“Remember—this punch is only one ten-thousandth of the interest. And there’s a sentence I’d like to return to you.”

“I’ll take the one you cherish most… and I’ll ravage her thoroughly. Heh.”

With a cold smile, Phield turned and walked away, leaving Adrian screaming behind him.

“Damn, he really dared go head-to-head with a lord who has a Divine Chosen. He’s a role model for us minor nobles.”

“Pfft. Just a hotheaded fool.”

“Hitting his own brother—no morality at all. Cold-blooded.”

“Wasn’t Adrian the one provoking him?”

Whispers spread everywhere. But one thing was certain—the Ross family had lost face in front of everyone.

Phield didn’t care.

Back in his tent, the dragon-blooded girl actually came to him on her own, fidgeting awkwardly as she expressed her thanks.

“Um… I didn’t expect you to stand up for me. Thank you.”

“I didn’t punch him just for you. That hatred runs deep. Don’t take it to heart.”

The original owner’s blood feud. Paul’s former lover tortured to death. The innocent little girl blown apart by fire butterflies. The repeated threats. The disgust.

Layer upon layer—it had long since become irreconcilable.

“I’m going to rest.”

Phield yawned, gave a few instructions, then returned to his tent and lay down.

The moment his eyes closed—

In Adrian’s territory, Wind Orchid Domain, within a narrow ravine along the border—

A corrupted black crow, its entire body gleaming with metallic luster, slowly opened its eyes. Its dreadful gaze turned toward the distance. The sun had already fallen. A veil of darkness like fine silk spread across the earth, swallowing all things.

“A fine night. Dark winds. Perfect weather.”

In the woods lining the stone road, sixty or seventy figures clad in black robes waited in silence. Some leaned against trees. Others sat cross-legged on the ground. Not a sound among them.

Ashina’s crimson eyes scanned the surroundings before settling on a distant manor.

Phield lowered his voice. “Ashina.”

“My lord, you’re here?” The girl’s face lit with delight. She turned toward the black crow with a radiant smile. “How’s the situation in Itavon Province? Is Rosalia protecting you properly? If she’s slacking off, I’ll go back and bite her!”

“I’m fine here. Have you reached Wind Orchid Domain?”

“This is the border of Wind Orchid Domain. Following your instructions, we arrived this morning and have been resting since. Ahead is the manor of a certain knight. His village lies not far to the east. It’s wealthy—there are watchtowers, stone walls, even small ballistae. We’re awaiting your orders.”

“Good.” Phield’s eyes gleamed.

The rebellion suppression was merely cover for the raiding army.

The war of revenge was only just beginning.

Whether the manor’s master was a saint or a monster—

Phield did not hesitate. He directly took control of the black crow and spread its wings.

The soaring crow circled above the manor, every inch of its defenses laid bare. Information gathered flowed continuously back to Ashina.

The soldiers atop the stone walls were lax. Some cradled halberds in their arms. Some leaned against battlements and dozed. Others paced idly.

None of them noticed the pitch-black crow exposing every defensive position.

“Caw—!”

A sharp cry split the air.

The gate guards jolted awake, nearly dropping their halberds. One stumbled, almost falling flat.

“Damn crow. Bad omen.”

The soldiers cursed irritably, their attention drawn entirely to the bird.

They never noticed the chain of black shadows darting forward like leopards, reaching the base of the walls in an instant.

Then, one by one, corrupted greatsword warriors surged with magic. Clawed gauntlets slammed into the stone surface. Like spiders, they began climbing upward, vertical walls as easy as flat ground.

“Did you hear something? Like rats crawling inside the walls?”

“I don’t know,” the archer replied blankly.

“Guess I’ve been too horny lately. Hearing things. When do we head to the village and grab a couple of women?”

The wall captain dug a finger into his ear irritably and leaned out to glance below.

“Splurt!”

A silver-white arrow streaked like a falling star and slammed directly into his face. With a crisp explosive crack, his head burst apart like a watermelon.

“Enem—”

The archer didn’t even finish the word.

A mass of towering, grotesque figures vaulted onto the battlements with terrifying agility. One of them lunged forward, thrusting his greatsword straight through the back of the soldier’s neck. The blade’s tip jutted out from the throat, still dripping blood. With a casual flick, the headless corpse was tossed aside like a rag, tumbling down to the ground.

Without hesitation, the greatsword warrior strode toward a guard post. Through the crack in the door, his corrupted gray-white eyes swept the interior—two soldiers chatting, one lying down for a nap.

“Boom!”

He kicked the door open. The force was so immense the entire door panel flew off its hinges.

The sudden crash startled the two chatting soldiers. They flinched, instinctively assuming it was a superior officer.

But when they saw who stood there—a blood-soaked, heavily armored warrior wielding a monstrous greatsword—terror flooded their faces. They reached for their weapons—

Too late.

The enormous blade howled through the air in a sweeping arc.

Blood erupted like a magnificent crimson curtain, splattering across the rear wall.

The two soldiers—armor and all—were cleaved clean in half at the waist.

Intestines spilled everywhere.

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