“Master, where are we going?” Evelyn Hall asked from the car, tilting her head slightly.
“To Rosey Chambers’ house,” Robin answered.
Evelyn Hall was taken aback, and then asked, “Are we not going to the city gate?”
“Not for now,” Robin responded calmly. “We’re going to return some clothes first. Rosey has a meal for Jeff Reczek that I need to pick up. As for the city gate, if I’m not there and it can’t be held, then it doesn’t need to be held.”
Everything at the city gate was already arranged and Jeff Reczek, the military madman, was there. Whether Robin was there or not didn’t really make a difference. After all, a general can’t be everywhere at all times. If that were the case, he would be more of a nanny than a general.
“Yes, sir,” Evelyn Hall replied.
Yet, there was a hint of envy in her eyes. She admired Rosey Chambers for being able to interact with their master on equal terms. As for her, given their hierarchical relationship, she always maintained a sense of awe and would never dare to seek the master out casually.
For instance, any secretary could have informed him about these matters. She didn’t really need to come. But she insisted. She wanted to see the master, talk to him. Plus, she had put on makeup and dressed up today, looking very pretty, but the master didn’t seem to notice, which brought a hint of disappointment to her eyes.
This was as Robin once said: if a man saves a woman in her most desperate hour, she will fall in love with him. If the man is strong enough, she will become obsessed, unable to extricate herself.
But there was no room for anyone else in Robin’s eyes. In his world, there were only two girls, one big silly girl and one little silly girl.
…
At the city gate, a fierce battle was underway.
They were not using modern technology or weapons. In a gathering of cultivators, the magnetic field was chaotic, and firearms were of little use.
Most of those who could join the military were cultivators. Even low-level cultivators could generate a thin layer of qi to block bullets. Hence, this was a hand-to-hand combat.
“Kill! General Jones said that the first one to take the city will be rewarded with the gold in the warehouse and a three-level promotion,” a tall man among them was shouting.
Upon hearing this, the attacking soldiers found fresh motivation. The gold in the warehouse was worth ten million. Not everyone was born into wealth like Hanh. A three-level promotion was an even greater reward than ten million.
Many of them were seeing red.
“Kill!”
“For South Land, for the beauties of Kisia, kill!”
“For glory and wealth, kill!”
A group of soldiers began to climb the city wall, their eyes filled with fiery passion.
“Charge!” The tall man waved his hand, commanding more people to charge forward. But the next second, he froze, looking down to see a long spear embedded in his chest.
“How…” His face contorted as he dropped to the ground, the spear piercing his heart. He couldn’t understand how he got hit from such a distance.
“You talk too much,” Harry Smith muttered from the city gate.
Those nearby noticed the uniqueness of this young man. As they threw stones at the attackers below, they asked, “You’re impressive, lad. That was the commander of the enemy forces in this area, and you just killed him.”
“Of course,” Harry Smith joked. “I was born into a family of cultivators, blessed with divine strength. Got it?”
With that, Harry Smith returned to the battle.
However, he did not lie. Among the St. Sunday martial arts families, many were prominent, with the Lindsay family being the most famous, followed by their family, the Smiths. The Smiths had a tradition of training their children in martial arts from a young age. Harry Smith was particularly noted for his innate strength.
As for why the Smith family did not intervene last time, it was because they had been cornered. Their family was in favor of war, but the combined power of the peace factions was far greater than theirs. Many peace faction families had them blocked, unable to act. That’s why they could not come to the aid of the Lindsay family.
However, the Lindsay family did not blame the Smiths. The two families maintained a good relationship. This Harry Smith was an unparalleled martial arts prodigy of his generation. The Smith family had originally planned for Harry to join the military when he came of age, his skills being too valuable to waste. However, before he could reach adulthood, the South Province was broken through, and a series of incidents put his enlistment on hold.
But now, the Kisia war god was recruiting, and in his first battle, Harry Smith showed an unmatched martial strength. It was no joke that he had innate strength. With a long spear, he could throw it several kilometers away, and the power was astonishing. If it were an ordinary person, even if they hit their target, they could not break the protective aura of the tall man, but Harry Smith could. That’s what a tiger general was.
In the command platform behind, Theresa Lindsay was standing there, seeing Harry Smith’s performance, she was immediately pleased. Her age wasn’t much different from Harry’s, both having trained in martial arts from a young age. They often sparred, and even though Theresa was a few years older and a prodigy of the Lindsay family, she was no match for Harry Smith. This showed just how powerful this young man was.
Before, Harry Smith had been clamoring to join the military, but his family had always restrained him due to his young age. He would often vent to Theresa Lindsay, and no one had expected that under such circumstances, he would fulfill his dream ahead of schedule. Harry Smith entered the battlefield at seventeen. His martial arts skills finally had a place to shine.
“The enemy is retreating, they’re retreating!” Someone who saw the retreating soldiers below quickly expressed their joy. “Could they not retreat? The one commanding them was skewered to death by Harry Smith’s spear. With no one to command them, they’re waiting for death if they don’t retreat,” an old soldier joked. They were all veterans, naturally understanding some of the rules of the battlefield.
At the city gate, the enemy had a commander leading the siege. Once that commander was killed, the siege team would lose its command, becoming a disorganized mob, easy to slaughter. So, they could only retreat. Under normal circumstances, the commanding officer was very strong and stood quite far back, always on guard, but in the end, he was still killed by Harry Smith. A spear, fired at a tricky angle with wild power, finally shattered his heart.
“Listen to me, my name is Harry Smith. The war god has agreed to let me kill Lord Whiteford. I swear here, I will follow the war god, flatten you scum, and make you fear the South Land,” Harry Smith roared, making a vow. This was the spirit of a young man, this was the original temperament of St. Sunday.