Chapter 27: Deng Ken Rides the Druid—Isn

Tintagel Castle.

The banquet prepared by Duke Tintagel was quite lavish, but the food was mediocre—let me tell you a dark joke: English cuisine.

In this era of Europe, only Italian and Frankish dishes were slightly better.

Ania looked disgusted.

She was accustomed to luxury and carried many bad habits of ancient Roman nobility.

Deng Ken wasn’t picky, but he restrained himself—he discovered that the Power of Gluttony couldn’t be used daily; once a week was enough.

Because it slowly increases maximum life, and over time, stacking the Holy Grail’s blood causes changes in muscle and bone structure.

His frame isn’t bulky, but his strength is immense; his muscle and bone density surpass ordinary humans.

The castle was dark and damp.

Beneath the candlelight of the long table, two hypocritical political nobles exchanged polite probes; Ania, a seasoned imperial courtesan, spoke without a single slip, constantly fishing for Duke Tintagel to voluntarily seek her help.

Politics was indeed dirty; Deng Ken couldn’t keep up—or rather, political creatures had no emotions; interest was the only driving force.

Duke Tintagel was excessively attentive to this noble widow, even though his wife sat right beside him.

One other person at the table looked uneasy.

Igraine.

Duke Tintagel’s wife, also a beauty, but her expression was filled with fear; fortunately, night had fallen and the lighting was poor, so the duke rarely glanced her way.

“Has something already happened?”

Deng Ken knew history might have minor deviations, but the duchess’s anxious demeanor made him feel something had occurred.

If Merlin intervened, Duke Tintagel would have no defense.

After the hospitality.

Duke Tintagel arranged for servants to lodge Deng Ken’s party; Duchess Igraine hurried away, not even bothering to exchange a few words with them.

It felt as if she was avoiding Duke Tintagel.

The Crow Queen—Tris followed Deng Ken and whispered, “The duchess seems off.”

Deng Ken couldn’t say he knew what would happen in the future; he merely said gravely, “Go with the flow.”

In the corridor.

Severus stopped and looked at everyone. “I’m leaving tonight.”

“Try to recruit some manpower.”

Severus had mentioned earlier that he still had connections in Britain; among the native Celtic tribes, many still worshipped Druids, whom they regarded as beings who could speak with the Celtic gods.

There were too few people.

Whether by paying or using connections, everyone agreed they needed to supplement manpower—ideally, units with some combat capability.

Severus volunteered to go; he planned to recruit traditional Celtic warriors (similar to Gallic troop types).

Deng Ken paused, then nodded. “Alright.”

“Stay safe.”

Severus smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m a Druid.”

Where Celtic faith still existed, Druids thrived; he would receive great respect in any native tribe he visited.

Severus leapt out the window.

The next moment.

His form suddenly shifted, transforming into a bird, vanishing quickly amid the others’ astonished gazes.

The Crow Queen—Tris was also surprised. “I’ve never seen him use shapeshifting before.”

The two witches now realized Severus’s spellcasting ability had fully returned.

“Druidic shapeshifting?”

Deng Ken watched Severus vanish into the night sky; from his god’s-eye view, he saw a bird marked “Druid,” land, revert to human form, then under moonlight transform into a towering stag, diving into dense forest.

Severus can shapeshift?

Could he turn into a warhorse? Like Chi Tu?

What if I rode him?

Wouldn’t that let me slaughter everything?

As everyone knows, the best pet for a hunter is a Druid.

The thought flashed by—but it was too much for Severus; he was a comrade in life and death, not a mount.

His transformations were into ordinary beasts, with no significant combat boost.

“Two-star silver-gray elite units must each have their own specialty!”

Deng Ken thought again of the Hermitage Sanctum—true top-tier experts. Now that Severus’s power had returned, his abilities were formidable; his shapeshifting held enormous potential, compensating for his crippled fingers.

Thinking of this, Deng Ken turned to glance at the witch—Ania.

Hmm.

Still a two-star blank, no changes at all.

Ania felt Deng Ken’s gaze; she seemed to guess his thoughts, biting her full red lips, her expression tinged with a pitiful sense of grievance.

For her spellcasting to fully recover, either the Goddess of Beauty—Aphrodite must awaken, or she must switch allegiance to a deity with similar authority; in all of Europe, only the Norse pantheon might suffice.

The Crow Queen—Tris was a special exception; not all witches were born as uniquely as she.

Speaking of spellcasting, Britain had one more giant.

The legendary wizard—Merlin!

The group returned to their rooms; Ania tried to sneak into Deng Ken’s chamber, but the Crow Queen—Tris glared at her, and she returned obediently.

That night, mountain floods poured down.

She’d recently developed a taste for mischief and kept wanting to stir up small troubles.

But beauty was a blade that scraped bone; Deng Ken couldn’t indulge himself too much now; occasional indulgence benefited body and mind, but too much would impair his combat ability.

Wine and lust have made me so frail; from today, I quit alcohol.

—“Day 23 of my crossing: 93 heads.”

He pulled out his small notebook and wrote it down.

Recent combat gains were modest, but since entering Britain, he’d acquired many new abilities.

It seemed he needed to further expand his combat skills by defeating different enemies.

This battle added several new abilities.

—“Born Sailor: Saxons are natural sailors, skilled at battling in ocean waves; unlike other invading barbarian tribes, Saxons chose to conquer Britain. Enhances nautical talent, accelerating mastery of sailor abilities.”

—“Naval Combat Mastery: You maintain balance amid ocean waves. Saxon pirates excel at naval combat, able to stand steady on decks, and some elite pirates can fight atop masts.”

—“Lance Charge Proficiency: A combat technique of barbarian noble knights; during lance charges, they can deliver a killing blow—even heavy armor cannot withstand a full-force lance strike.”

He hadn’t acquired any particularly powerful abilities lately.

Probably because he hadn’t faced any top-tier opponents—just incremental gains in basic combat techniques.

But the god’s-eye projection page showed some special changes.

—“Battle Formation—Wedge Formation [Command Art]: A barbarian noble knight’s combat technique; the mortal can command cavalry units to form a wedge formation. The formation’s power depends on the combined strength, training, and discipline of the units. Can only command obedient troops.”

—“Battle Formation—Square Formation [Command Art]: One of the standard basic formations.”

—“Battle Formation—Diamond Formation [Command Art]: Macedonian light cavalry formation; effective against enemies from any direction, preventing disadvantage. Requires high training and discipline.”

—“Battle Formation—Circle Formation [Command Art]: One of the standard cavalry archery formations.”

Battle command ability?

Deng Ken checked the formation page; it was mainly divided into cavalry, infantry, and archers. Cavalry tactics were numerous—perhaps because he’d slain many barbarian noble knights today.

Infantry formations were few: loose and tight formations, plus the Roman standard shield wall and testudo; the latter required higher training.

Archers had little room for command.

Advanced infantry-shield and archer coordination was currently impossible—he hadn’t acquired the corresponding command arts, needing high discipline to support it.

“All tactical command ignores my own abilities.”

“It depends entirely on the training and discipline of the combat units.”

That meant if Deng Ken gave orders to a group of peasants with no training or discipline, they’d still be a chaotic mess.

His talent affected only himself, not others.

Deng Ken searched extensively but found no “Commander” ability marker; clearly, battlefield performance ultimately depended on soldiers’ military discipline.

Yet, once a unit was fully organized, he could see an additional discipline marker.

If “Discipline” was marked, it meant the unit had high military discipline—not just armed mobs.

Training, discipline, and morale.

These were the entirety of the tactical command page in the projection; achieving these three conditions meant a unit could serve as a frontline force.

“In the end, it all depends on the quality of recruited soldiers.”

Deng Ken had never truly commanded an army; the rebel exiles’ battle was merely a skirmish; against a real army, the exiles would be crushed.

To truly use the exiles to form an army, they must be reorganized—concentrating combat-capable units into new battle formations.

“Another idea: form an elite unit.”

“Select those one-star and two-star marked individuals, mix them directly into a legion—they’d possess formidable combat power.”

But on the battlefield, individual strength is diminished; armor is crucial.

Everyone is fragile; without armor or shields, even two-star elites die in a few blows.

“Let’s see what Ania’s next move is.”

If she can get Duke Tantgir to personally invite us for help, the refugee army reorganizing at the mountain stronghold can be officially transferred over.

In that battle against the refugee rebels, Deng Ken crushed a noble private army.

The spoils seized at the time were mostly grain, but also enough field equipment to arm over thirty men—the Empire’s field armor was still of high quality—and combined with the refugees’ own weapons, forming a mercenary force of two hundred was no problem.

The number of refugees in the western regions of the Empire was enormous, and with the barbarians launching a large-scale invasion, the number of displaced people would only grow.

Because the barbarians needed slaves too.

As long as Aniya can seize even a nominal piece of land, they can easily relocate tens of thousands of people—more than that might be ambitious, but ten thousand is easily within reach.

Deng Ken’s foundation is still too weak.

Within the Empire, this small force can’t make much of a splash—but on the Isle of Britain, a few hundred or even a thousand troops could shift the entire situation.

At that point, just gathering a few cannon fodder could let them claim an army of ten thousand.

In historical wars, troop numbers were always inflated; true professional soldiers were never numerous.

At this stage, Deng Ken should focus on improving his personal strength; if the chance arises, he might help Duke Tantgir repel this Saxon invasion.

Duke Tantgir suffered a crushing defeat today; the Saxon forces will launch a full-scale invasion within the next one or two days at most.

“The smaller the battlefield, the better it is for me right now.”

From a god’s-eye view.

Deng Ken’s consciousness rested his mortal form, when suddenly his brow furrowed—in the projection, a unit marked “Familiar” appeared outside the castle.

——Familiar—Night Owl (One-Star) (Animal Form) [Neutral].

Hm?

Deng Ken hadn’t expected to encounter another supernatural entity so soon. He rose, grabbed his battle bow, hesitated a moment, then quietly knocked on the door of Lady Crow—Tris.

Leave professional matters to professionals.

Deng Ken had clear self-awareness: even as a ruler, he could only emulate Liu Bang—use others to their fullest. If he took the field himself, killing was probably the only thing he excelled at.

He might manage troops in battle, but managing logistics, local administration, or civil affairs? He’d struggle.

He was better suited to be a general like Xiang Yu.

This encounter with Duke Tantgir clearly showed Aniya’s tactics were far more polished than his.

The door opened.

Lady Crow—Tris smiled sweetly; seeing Deng Ken with his battle bow slung across his back, her expression instantly changed. “What happened?”

Deng Ken whispered, “Something’s outside.”

“I saw an odd night owl—it’s circled the place several times.”

Lady Crow—Tris rose, her voice steady. “Take me to see it.”

Deng Ken’s intuition was extraordinary.

Especially his sense of danger—Lady Crow—Tris trusted it completely.

“Not a druid.”

Lady Crow—Tris’s palm shimmered with a rune stone; her eyes pierced the night, locking onto the familiar. “It’s a familiar summoned by a wizard.”

“A being not of this world.”

She added softly, “Only a very powerful wizard can summon beings outside reality.”

“On the Isle of Britain, only one wizard could do this.”

Merlin!

When Lady Crow—Tris was in Paris, she had contacted Aniya through some unknown means; Deng Ken hadn’t known how she did it, assuming she controlled wild birds.

A being not of this world?

Are there other planes?

Of course.

The Valkyrie he’d seen through the god’s-eye view clearly wasn’t part of this world.

This is the Isle of Britain—home to Avalon, hidden in the mists.

Supernatural forces are far more common here.

Lady Crow—Tris explained, “Merlin is a cambion—half-human, half-demon. He was born with immense magical power.”

“Only he can summon familiars.”

Deng Ken half-understood, glancing unconsciously at Tris beside him. Merlin was half-demon—what about her?

She too was born with immense supernatural power.

As if sensing Deng Ken’s thought, Lady Crow—Tris hesitated slightly, then whispered, “I carry the blood of the banshee.”

She watched his expression closely.

Banshee.

In this age, the name carried a poor reputation. Her lineage leaned toward nightmare banshees, famed for seducing men—hence her vow of chastity, serving the virgin goddesses of the polytheistic faith.

She was laying it all bare.

Lady Crow—Tris wanted to see how Deng Ken would react to her origins—would he fear or shun the legendary banshee?

But Deng Ken’s expression was subtle—almost excited.

This revelation made Lady Crow—Tris’s cheeks flush slightly.

The familiar circled the castle once more, then vanished into the dark night—no one knew what Merlin was observing through it.

Meanwhile.

In the wilderness near Wales on the Isle of Britain, an ancient wizard appeared.

“Gorlois is not dead.”

Merlin’s expression held a trace of regret. He sighed, knowing the future foretold had shifted again.

He was a wizard exceptionally skilled in prophecy.

Or rather—he himself was bound to follow the possible futures foreseen, waiting for Arthur’s birth.

Merlin had foreseen Duke Tantgir’s death: the ideal outcome was for him to fall to the Saxons, sparing Uther from direct action. Uther could then marry the duke’s widow and unify Britain.

But he didn’t die.

Then only the second prophecy remained: Duke Tantgir would die accidentally in a power struggle with Uther.

A wizard skilled in prophecy often became ensnared in his own visions.

The prophecy-bound must die by prophecy!

Merlin’s current actions were aimed at realizing the future he desired: Ygraine was already pregnant with Britain’s future king. Next, he must ensure Arthur’s safe birth and growth.

Because Merlin had already foreseen Uther’s death.

Duke Tantgir will die.

Uther will die.

After years of chaos, Britain will welcome its greatest king.

This was the future he most desired.

But now, all prophecies were in chaos.

Someone is about to overturn the table!

A remote province of the Empire? No need for such complications—Deng Ken planned to cut straight through it.

………………