In the main tent of South Land:
“General, the Dylan Harding clan has been wiped out. Mountland has experienced a great massacre. Now Mountland is under the control of a gang leader called Master Lewis. According to intelligence, he has 50, 000 soldiers and 10, 000 elite troops,” a man reported.
“Too fast. In less than a day, this Master Lewis is quite a figure,” Walton Myers murmured.
Indeed, it was too fast.
They had thought that even if defeated, they could resist for a day or two. But now Mountland had fallen in just a day, before they were even a third of the way there. It would take at least another full day and night to arrive.
And 50, 000 soldiers with 10, 000 elites – what a concept! A hundred of those street thugs couldn’t compare to one properly trained soldier, let alone elites.
The elites were all cultivators.
Take South Land’s vanguard Ghost Wolf Iron Cavalry for example. Their inner energy could manifest to block bullets.
Finnbar Harding’s 3, 000 Red Flames were also elites.
Dylan Harding’s troops were only slightly more than Finnbar’s. Yet they had been wiped out in just a short day, too quickly for South Land to react.
“Iron Eagles,” Walton Myers suddenly called out.
“Here,” a soldier with an iron eagle mask and black clothes appeared nearby.
These were the Iron Eagles, South Land’s top reconnaissance guard. On par with the Shadow Guard.
“Can you find information on that Master Lewis?” Walton Myers asked.
“We tried, but couldn’t find anything. It’s as if all traces have been erased. We don’t even know his real name, only that he’s called Master Lewis,” the Iron Eagle reported.
This Master Lewis was hidden too deeply.
Everyone had thought he was just some gang leader, an ordinary figure. Nothing compared to the likes of Robin, Walton Myers, or even Dylan Harding. But now this small fry had exploded with might, shocking everyone.
50, 000 soldiers and 10, 000 elites?
It was as if he was about to rebel!
In fact, Master Lewis really did intend to rebel. He had always said his life’s dream was to find a mountain to rule like a bandit king, occasionally raiding villages for women, living freely and leisurely.
He still had the heart of a bandit.
But Mr. Berger had contacted him and asked him to help Robin.
With just that one line, Master Lewis had revealed the forces he’d cultivated his whole life, entrusting his fate to Robin, Mr. Berger’s proudest student. He believed in Mr. Berger and Robin.
“Can’t find anything? Then where is Robin now?”
Walton Myers asked again.
“We… lost him, Sir,” the Iron Eagle said.
One Iron Eagle team was dedicated to monitoring Nightowl, but they had not only lost him, but also suffered heavy casualties, with Allie killing most of them.
After all, Allie’s senses were formidable.
With all the insects in the forest as her eyes, nothing could escape her notice.
Walton Myers didn’t blame the Iron Eagles. He knew they had done their best. After all, not just anyone could keep constant tabs on a Kisian Primus. As for Master Lewis, he now had complete control over Mountland. The Iron Eagles’ every move was in his sight. How could they investigate Master Lewis?
Walton Myers frowned slightly. The 3, 000 Iron Eagles the Emperor had given him were the Emperor’s entire fortune. But they had already lost nearly 1, 000. He felt pained, yet not overly concerned. There were always casualties in war.
Victory in the end was all that mattered.
What troubled him was things were starting to slip out of his control, especially with the Kisian Primus missing and untraceable. Not a good sign.
“General Myers, we need to march on Mountland now with all haste,” one of the generals said urgently.
“Yes, northern reinforcements must be preparing to move out by now. But we still have a few days, at least two for them to arrive. Rushing there will take us one day, leaving one day to take Mountland,” another analyzed.
“Can we take it in a day?”
“Don’t forget, Mountland doesn’t have natural defenses like St. Sunday that are easy to defend but hard to attack.”
The generals all spoke up.
But just then, Benson Laydon stepped forward, a cold glint in his eyes. “General Myers, I have a plan. Assemble a cavalry force of 50, 000. After crushing Mountland, invade inner Kisia, living off the land and sustaining by battles, straight to the capital. Have Riceshire, Maplia and others attack Kisia’s borders to prevent border troops from deploying.”
His words caused the generals to gasp.
Living off the land and sustaining by battles – an inhumane war tactic where an army took no supplies, driving the soldiers into frenzied madness. They would slaughter and feast on one city before moving on to the next.
No prisoners, kill all in their path until reaching the capital.
If blocked, switch routes and continue the slaughter. If unable to kill, the army would starve and die of thirst, turning into deranged killing machines in the end.
It was called inhumane because who knew how many would die if this strategy was used?
Perhaps all of Kisia would become a bloodbath.
“General Myers, isn’t this too cruel?” one advisor asked nervously.
“Cruel? Can you not see Kisia’s Primus’ intentions are not Mountland? He’s not that foolish. He’s luring us to Mountland – a feint. Yet we know nothing of his real plans, can’t even guess. Not a good sign. This is the only way to foil all schemes.”
“In any case, he would never watch idly as our forces slaughter their way through Kisia city by city.”
“This is total war. We cannot lose.”
“General Myers, I volunteer to lead this army and complete the mission,” Benson Laydon turned and knelt down with a loud shout.
Everyone was shocked speechless.
Benson Laydon had voluntarily applied to lead this army.
Inconceivable!
This army was meant to massacre cities. Who knew how many lives would be ended? Whether Kisia or South Land won, Benson Laydon was destined to go down in history as a reviled monster.
Even his descendants would not know peace.
Silence filled the tent.
After a long pause, Walton Myers finally spoke, as if sighing: “Benson, I can grant your request, but tell me why you’ve made this decision.”
Infamy through the ages – not something just anyone could bear.
“If General Myers does not fear infamy, why should I? I remember General Myers’ words to Kisia’s Primus. Right or wrong, merits or faults, let later generations evaluate. By then I’ll be dead and beyond hearing,” Benson Laydon smiled.
To Kisia, the Primus was an object of faith.
And to Benson Laydon, Walton Myers was his faith.
To fight for one’s faith, honor or disgrace regardless.