Chapter 36: The Power of the Gods! One Rider Leads the Charge!

Good news: Severus has returned.

Deng Ken now had another useful person at his side; he seemed to have just heard rumors about Deng Ken and couldn’t help asking, “Have you been to Avalon?”

Deng Ken waved his hand, signaling those around him to withdraw, leaving only the Crow Queen—Tris, and nodded gravely, “Yes.”

Severus opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated, finally saying slowly, “I will find a way to contact the Druidic order in Britain—they should be willing to offer support.”

In fact, the Druidic order in Britain has already acted in secret.

Deng Ken paused a moment, then said, “Fine.”

“Your identity is perfect for dealing with them—see if you can recruit more Gallic Oath Warriors.”

The Cú Chulainn warriors are truly powerful.

Armed with sword and shield, one of them can fight off five or six ordinary soldiers at once; if we had a few more such experts, Deng Ken could form a full assault unit.

Severus nodded, “I’ll depart tomorrow.”

But before leaving, he looked at Deng Ken before him, hesitated, then said slowly, “Do you know what Druidic Altar Stones are?”

Druidic Altar Stones?

Deng Ken’s expression was puzzled, listening intently.

Severus glanced at the Crow Queen—Tris, as if gauging her reaction; seeing no indication from Tris, he gathered his courage and said, “They are the ancient faith of the Celtic gods.”

“The sacred sites of the Gallic tribes.”

“These holy domains possess extraordinary abilities—they can grant soldiers the power of the gods.”

The gods’ blessing?

Deng Ken’s expression turned surprised; he turned to look at the Crow Queen—Tris beside him, who gave a slight nod, confirming Severus’s words were true.

Severus continued, “These holy domains dedicated to the gods require priests to maintain their power.”

“One of their most important functions is training armies.”

“Different deities have distinct divine domains: some excel at forging superior weapons and armor, others bestow courage to raise warriors’ morale, but most focus on honing combat skills.”

The great matters of a state are sacrifice and warfare.

Though the Celtic religious rites have been crushed by the Roman Empire, in Britain and Avalon they still exist; as long as Druidic Altar Stones are built, they can still function to some degree.

The Crow Queen—Tris is the true authority on this matter.

Because the temples of Diana and Artemis can train elite archers, corresponding to the [Hunting] divine office; priests serving these goddesses gain supernatural power from their divine domains.

Before the Church became the empire’s state religion, Roman temples carried additional divine authority, often evolving from the core divine offices’ influence on the mortal world.

This further made early Romans exceptionally warlike.

In pre-Christian times, the Gallic war god Taranis was destroyed and absorbed; the hunting goddess Abnoba was destroyed and absorbed; the gods of wine, forging, horse racing, and others holding corresponding offices were all digested by Roman deities, leaving not even their faces behind.

Ancient Roman gods only merged with ancient Greek gods, continuing civilized tradition; they utterly exterminated other barbarian deities.

Almost all these Celtic offshoot—Gallic gods have been wiped out. Perhaps one name remains on the Pantheon’s roster, but their worship has long been severed.

At the same time, the situation in the East was much the same.

During the Han dynasty, the Celestial Master Zhang Daoling entered Bashu, rallied the Eight Demon Generals, waged war against countless spirits, subdued heretical demons, and founded the Five Pecks of Rice Sect (the precursor to Daoism).

This was the act of destroying mountains and smashing temples, eradicating blood-offering spirits.

In this battle, Zhang Daoling nearly eradicated the indigenous “Wu religion” of Bashu!

The existence of Celtic offshoot—Gallic gods is equivalent to what the empire sees as primitive “Wu religion.”

Civilizational assimilation: destroy old faiths, spread ancient Roman deities.

The mild faction of Gallic Druids emerged only after the Roman Empire beat them into submission, slowly transforming into a civilized offshoot.

Avalon itself is a new faith born from this mild transformation, only a few hundred years old—hence why the guardian fairies resemble ancient Greek nymphs so closely.

The brutal branch of this faith in Ireland is now regarded as bloodthirsty barbarians.

As time progresses and civilization civilizes, primitive Wu religion is eradicated.

During the Huaxia Fangbo era, human blood sacrifices were common; the story of Ximen Bao governing Ye from elementary school textbooks belongs to the Wu religion era.

When Daoism destroyed primitive Wu religion, early Daoist missionaries directly summoned help—chanting “Lord Laozi, swiftly obey the decree,” personally picking up swords to kill Wu shamans and spirits alike; their style was nothing like today’s Daoists.

After Zhang Jue of the Taiping Dao, Daoism became much more restrained—at least it stopped rebelling.

“If Celtic divine domains all carry supernatural blessings?”

“Then what of ancient Roman and Greek gods?”

The moment Deng Ken thought of this, he turned to the Crow Queen—Tris, seeking her answer; no one knew the divine offices and authority of the gods better than this high priestess of the imperial polytheism.

Inside the tent.

The Crow Queen—Tris sighed softly.

She gazed at Deng Ken before her and said softly, “Severus is correct.”

“But invoking the gods’ power will inevitably draw the Church’s hostility.”

“I don’t want you drawn into religious conflict.”

To harness divine power, one must plant flags, build temples, and reconstruct the gods’ sacred domains.

Avalon has not yet been fully extinguished.

If Deng Ken erects a Druidic Altar Stone, the Church may not care—or even notice—since it’s just a dying sect; but if he builds a temple dedicated to Diana, the Church will believe the ancient Roman gods have returned.

These two actions are entirely different; Diana’s faith is far more conspicuous.

The Crow Queen—Tris only wants to protect herself and doesn’t want Deng Ken risking everything to revive the ancient Roman gods; the danger is too great.

At some point, in her heart, Deng Ken’s safety had become more important than the survival of Diana’s faith.

Dimensional space.

Deng Ken suddenly entered a god’s-eye view; then everything in the projection changed, as if the dimensional space had captured certain supernatural laws from the real world.

A line of characters appeared on the projection screen.

——“Unlock Faith Faction System.”

——“Avalon Faith (Celtic Pantheon Branch)!”

On the projection screen, a unique faith marker appeared.

——“Avalon Altar Stone (Primary Sacred Domain): In Celtic myth, Avalon is the Otherworld; ancient Druidic faith holds legends of immortal souls and reincarnation. This altar dedicated to Avalon strengthens warriors’ resolve, making them less fearful of death.

The Otherworld is also the realm of soul reincarnation.

The souls of fallen believers enter Avalon shrouded in mist, just as Germanic warriors enter the Norse pantheon’s Valhalla.

This temple domain permanently increases the morale of affected Celtic warriors by +1—they will face death with greater courage.”

【The sacred domain’s blessing intensifies with temple construction, rituals, and faith strength.】

Interesting.

No wonder the Germanic barbarians are so fearless in battle!

If this is true, then the Germanic Viking sacred domain—dedicated to Odin, chief god of the Norse pantheon—is it also a permanent morale boost?

After all, in Norse myth, a warrior’s death in battle is the only complete end; Germanic barbarians rarely die of old age.

Precisely because of this death requirement, after the Duchy of Normandy was founded, the entire clan converted to Christianity, beginning the Christianization of the Vikings—effectively hollowing out the Norse pantheon’s homeland.

“Only one unlocked?”

In the faith page, Deng Ken saw only the Celtic myth—Avalon Faith; the Norse pantheon’s faith was not unlocked, nor were the ancient Roman or Greek faiths—both long extinct. As for the Church’s faith, it likely didn’t trigger because it was irrelevant.

“The power of divine pantheons in this world can provide certain bonuses, but they are not decisive.”

Deng Ken quickly realized this.

Building an Avalon Altar Stone grants only a slight morale boost—hardly better than his own presence on the battlefield inspiring troops; at best, it’s a minor advantage.

The Crow Queen—Tris clearly doesn’t want him to provoke the powerful Church for such a small divine blessing.

The gods cannot descend personally.

This tiny sacred domain blessing is worth less than better weapons, stricter training, or superior commanders—it’s a high-risk, low-reward proposition.

If divine blessings were truly that powerful, Zhang Jue’s Yellow Turban Army wouldn’t have failed.

The Yellow Turban Warriors could be seen as special troops of a temple domain; in Britain, too, there are Celtic sacred domain warriors—the Gallic Oath Warriors, Druidic orders, Gallic Totem Warriors, and so on.

Though their combat power is strong, their numbers are few—they cannot decide the outcome of major battles.

“The Franks seem to have trained a group of Frankish Holy Knights under the support of the hermit order.”

Deng Ken immediately understood the Crow Queen—Tris’s meaning.

The witch was thinking ahead for him.

He nodded slightly and said, “Don’t worry.”

“I’ll be careful.”

Deng Ken temporarily has no intention of choosing a faith faction; he aims to secure his footing in Britain, not to be drawn prematurely into religious conflict. Avalon Faith can be used, but establishing it as the state religion is out of the question.

He now understands.

As long as he thrives in reality, no god, no divine pantheon dares to ignore his will!

The nymphs of Avalon are clearly clinging to him, using his growing legend to sustain their nearly extinguished faith, countering the Norse pantheon’s spread brought by Germanic barbarian invasions.

This means that as long as Deng Ken grows strong enough, even the Norse pantheon must bow to him in the real world!

………………

Night fell.

Aniya was truly desperate.

Though she had deliberately avoided disturbing others, Deng Ken ultimately had to cover the beautiful witch’s mouth.

At least he stood up and kicked.

Fortunately, the medieval era was still relatively open; only after the Church unified faith did conservatism gradually set in. People of this time still bore Roman customs and were fairly tolerant of such matters. After all, Germanic barbarians loved alcohol; drunk, they would brawl, then stagger around together, utterly unconcerned if others were present in the warrior hall—even cheering and applauding the brave men.

If Deng Ken ever visited a Germanic barbarian tavern, he would hear bards and warriors singing ballads with truly brilliant lyrics.

Night deepened.

The Crow Queen—Tris released her messenger pigeon, glanced at Deng Ken’s tent, sighed softly, and clutched the Diana Stone, her cheeks flushed.

She was summoning other members of the Witch Gathering.

With a base established, it was time to gather the exiled witches.

The Crow Queen—Tris did not fully trust Aniya, for Aniya had too many hidden agendas, but the fairies of Avalon had suddenly clung to Deng Ken, which put her on high alert.

Compared to the scheming Aniya, the fairies of Avalon were far more dangerous; of two evils, choose the lesser—feed Aniya well first, lest Deng Ken be swayed by the lake nymphs.

She wasn’t afraid Deng Ken would be seduced—she feared the fairies of Avalon would use him to achieve some secret goal.

Tris had never considered pushing Deng Ken to confront the Church; she just didn’t want those cunning lake nymphs to deceive him into becoming Avalon’s secular guardian, unwittingly clashing with the Church’s hermit order.

With the Norden Bow in his hands, any observant person would know Deng Ken was tied to Avalon.

This was an open strategy.

Avalon was using Deng Ken’s legend to regain a sliver of vitality.

Drums pounded inside the tent.

A nineteen-year-old lad, still so fearless and unmatched—too much fire.

The Crow Queen—Tris bore a vow of chastity; many things she could not do—not that she could never do them, but if she did, she could no longer draw upon Diana’s power.

For those virgin goddesses required chaste priestesses to channel even a sliver of divine power.

Everything had only just begun.

Whether for Deng Ken or for herself, the Crow Queen—Tris must hold the line; at the critical moment, she would still need the power of those goddesses to turn the tide. In the twilight age of myth, only those few virgin goddesses retained any residual faith.

If Tris broke her vow of chastity, she would lose the strength to directly oppose those who bore the name of “saint.”

Those virgin goddesses were divinely ordained, protecting unmarried maidens.

But there were not entirely no other ways.

The next day.

After Deng Ken led his troops out, the Crow Queen—Tris found Aniya, lounging with a satisfied look, and casually whipped her waist and hips.

“Tris?!”

Aniya’s sultry face still bore last night’s blush; she rose to rage, but at the Crow Queen’s half-smile, her spirit instantly wilted.

No!

I just accomplished a great deed—why whip me? Is my merit wasted?

Aniya’s confidence surged; she lunged to rebel, to face Tris head-on—but the Crow Queen merely narrowed her eyes, flicked her fingers, and Aniya froze, half her body numbed.

She couldn’t possibly win.

A mere trick from the Crow Queen—Tris could pin this delicate Roman noblewoman in place.

Waaah!

Aniya’s eyes welled with tears; she bowed her head pitifully. “My Lady Tris, I’m sorry.”

A wise man doesn’t fight when outmatched.

Besides, she had feasted well last night, while the Crow Queen—Tris had starved for years—she must be seething inside, and might take it out on Aniya. Aniya knew Tris’s secrets better than most; rumors said she carried a trace of Circe’s blood.

The Crow Queen—Tris sat slowly, scanning Aniya’s flushed body, and said coolly: “Put your clothes on.”

“Don’t wear that court gown outside again.”

“It’s indecent!”

Among the ancient Roman pantheon, the cults of those virgin goddesses were conservative; the cult of Venus—or Aphrodite—was open, its followers dressed in modern styles, sometimes more revealing than naked.

In early rites of Aphrodite’s sacred groves, women’s attire would make modern observers blush, emphasizing the seductive grace of the female form.

Aniya murmured, crestfallen: “Yes, My Lady Tris.”

She was flamboyant—craved power, adored attention, loved radiating her charm.

Now the Crow Queen—Tris had blocked that path.

A breeze stirred.

The Crow Queen—Tris raised a hand; Aniya’s numbness faded. Tris wielded not only Diana’s power, but fragments of Trivia (Hecate) and Artemis’s strength.

She couldn’t possibly win.

Annoying!

The tent flap closed automatically; the Crow Queen—Tris gazed down at Aniya, expression hesitant, slightly awkward, yet whispered: “Tell me the secret rites of Aphrodite’s cult for pleasing lovers.”

Huh?

Insight triggered.

Aniya, quick-witted, widened her eyes at Tris, stunned and stammering: “You want to… bypass the chastity vow?…”

The Crow Queen—Tris blushed crimson, her earlier haughtiness gone.

She noticed Aniya’s gaze sweeping over her, bluntly lingering on her curves, and snorted coldly, narrowing her slanted phoenix eyes—Aniya shuddered in fear.

Aniya, startled, immediately conceived a wicked plan.

You bullied me?

Aniya forced her face into solemnity, hiding her glee—but inside, she was dancing.

Now you’re in my hands.

Aniya tilted her head slightly, her lips twitching; she forcibly suppressed her smile, then turned back with an expression of perfect sincerity.

This round must be won back.

Meanwhile,

Deng Ken had already led his troops toward Dorset, for that morning he received troubling news.

Gil arrived in haste, breathless: “Lord Deng Ken!”

“It’s bad!”

“Dingtaji Duke led his troops against Saxon pirates yesterday—he personally led his elite cavalry in a flanking strike, and was struck multiple times by Saxon archers!”

“His bodyguards fought to the death to bring him back—he’s severely wounded and bedridden.”

What the hell?

He was fine two days ago, even reclaimed territory—how did he get this badly wounded today?

Deng Ken rose immediately: “Is Dingtaji Duke alright?”

Don’t die suddenly—just hold on until I’m established!

Gil’s expression was complex: “Severely wounded.”

“But not life-threatening.”

Good.

Deng Ken exhaled in relief.

No.

Don’t you know your own worth?

Deng Ken is this strong—he dares not charge head-on; Dingtaji Duke is barely a one-star novice—why the hell did he imitate a hero and lead a cavalry charge?

After questioning him, the full story emerged.

Dingtaji Duke had indeed improved—he seized the opportunity, first shattered a Saxon cavalry unit head-on, then exploited the stalemate to strike the enemy’s right flank from behind.

Tactically, his decision was flawless.

Dingtaji Duke had become bolder.

But cavalry charges are like a red-hot iron rod dipped in lubricant—steaming, must pierce through in one thrust, ideally from the rear flank, creating pincer pressure to split the enemy’s formation, triggering chaos and collapsing morale.

But Dingtaji Duke plunged in—and didn’t break through; worse, he got stuck inside.

Cavalry charge.

The front must be led by a warrior of ferocity; Dingtaji Duke’s blade was too dull—his cavalry pierced in but failed to break through, trapped in the melee.

Then, the Saxon elite forest hunters locked onto him.

Dingtaji Duke was hit by six arrows; his shield bristled with more. Had his armor not been high-quality noble-scale mail—with neck, shoulder, and waist protection—he’d have died on the spot.

His bodyguards rescued him at great cost, but he collapsed upon return.

He won’t die.

But one arrow in his buttock, one in his thigh, three through his chest and back, and one struck his iron helmet—barely missed killing him outright.

With such injuries, Dingtaji Duke could no longer command.

Cornwall was a county-sized territory; Dingtaji Duke had no sons, only three daughters, and no capable generals. He immediately turned to Deng Ken for help, sending his personal cavalryman Gil—now only Deng Ken could stabilize the situation.

Deng Ken had no choice but to go.

If Dingtaji Duke suffered another defeat, Deng Ken would face the full Saxon horde.

This battle, Dingtaji Duke could have held his ground—he simply overestimated his strength.

Only a two-star warrior could lead a cavalry charge. In any age, cavalry assaults were led by a fearsome champion—otherwise, the spearhead lacked the shock to break enemy morale.

A thunder of hooves.

Deng Ken rode ahead, followed by Kriogan, Kurin, and fourteen others—sixteen cavalrymen. The infantry, led by Severus and Kevito, would take over a day to catch up. In this era, infantry moved slowly; hasty departure meant no supply wagons, no conscripted laborers yet.

In the age of cold weapons, provisions were vital.

A man starved one day—he was half-dead.

Most of these sixteen were elite; Kriogan, now clad in scale armor, had become a one-star silver-gray combat unit.

On the march, Gil gave a rough account of the enemy.

The man Duke Dintagel fought was not Horsa, brother of the King of Kent; had he encountered Horsa, he would not have launched an attack. The opponent was one of the Germanic barbarian commanders—the Virgin Possessor, Enfes—renowned as a warrior among warriors, a barbarian leader famed for his ferocity, and notorious throughout Britain for his habit of sacking towns and taking virgins. One of his most infamous acts was demanding ten virgins by name when conquering a native British tribe.

This man commanded an elite guard of chieftains, originally formed from Saxon pirates who had also proven themselves in naval raids.

Giddyap!

Deng Ken led sixteen riders straight toward Exeter, the largest town in Devonshire, protected by a relatively sturdy wooden wall—similar to the northern towns of Calradia in Mount & Blade, built of stacked timber, making fire a negligible threat.

Looking at it this way, the Saxon barbarians’ recent retreat may not have been due to his personal prowess—it could have been a deliberate feigned retreat, luring Duke Dintagel out with a decoy tactic.

From a god’s-eye view.

Deng Ken had already seen the battlefield.

Beneath the eastern gate of Exeter, a unit of Saxon spearmen was pushing a battering ram against the gate. The town’s defenses were far weaker than the fortress in Cornwall; the wooden gate was already on the verge of collapse.

——British Legion (Morale Shaken) (Heavy Casualties) (Commander Severely Wounded).

——British Coastal Militia (Morale Shaken) (Commander Severely Wounded) (Command Chaotic).

——Canti Auxiliary Legion (Morale Shaken) (No Command).

——British Militia (Morale Low) (Command Chaotic).

On the strategic map.

Although Duke Dintagel’s forces had suffered few casualties, their morale had already crumbled; if the gate fell, their rout was merely a matter of time. His army had lost a minor engagement in open battle and now could only defend behind Exeter’s walls. Fortunately, there was still a town to hold—without it, they would never have held out until Deng Ken arrived.

In the age of melee weapons, morale was critical: once the main battle troops were wiped out, even minor losses of ten to twenty percent among other units would trigger mass desertion.

In the medieval era, only main battle troops could withstand high casualty ratios.

If morale wasn’t restored soon, defeat was imminent.

Deng Ken looked down over the entire battlefield.

He reined in his horse, turned to look at Kulin, Kriog, and the others behind him, and said grimly: “Dare you charge with me?!”

Kriog’s blood boiled instantly; he roared: “Wherever you go, I go!”

Kulin said nothing, only drew his longsword.

All of them yearned for glory, especially after following a fearless commander.

They could fight.

More than half of Deng Ken’s sixteen riders were first-rank warriors, mostly native noble horsemen, clad in armor far superior to infantry, even their warhorses equipped with basic protection.

“Follow me!”

He spurred forward, charging down the hill!

………………