Chapter 181: The Marquis knelt? The Marquis actually knelt!

Silas felt his legs still trembling as he ran back to the city wall, the sweat mixed with terror on his fat face.

Making him look incredibly wretched.

"How was it? What did that madman say?"

Marquis Archibald grabbed Silas's arm, his fingernails almost embedding into the thick flesh, his eyes filled with urgency and the last glimmer of hope.

He was like a drowning man now, and Silas was the only straw he could see.

The advisors and generals around him also held their breath, casting their gazes over in unison.

The atmosphere on the city wall was so oppressive that it made people unable to breathe.

Silas panted, swallowing a mouthful of saliva with difficulty, looking at Archibald's pale and bloodshot face, not knowing how to open his mouth for a long time.

How to say this?

Say that the young man named Roko didn't intend to give you a way out at all?

Say that the conditions he proposed were a hundred times more uncomfortable than directly attacking the city?

"He—he—" Silas stammered, unable to say a complete sentence for a long time.

"What did he say! Speak!" Archibald lost his patience, shaking Silas's body crazily, almost roaring.

"Marquis, you—you calm down, calm down a bit—"

Silas was dizzy from the shaking and quickly begged for mercy.

He took a deep breath, simply hardened his heart, and shouted like beans from a bamboo tube with his eyes closed: "Master Roko said,

he has three conditions!"

"First, he wants you to compensate ten times for all the losses from his ambush last time and this time's Black Wolf Bandit Group!"

"Second, he wants you to open the Governor's Mansion's treasury and let his people go in to move whatever they want, as much as they can move!"

"Third—third—"

Speaking of this, Silas's voice grew smaller again; he secretly glanced at Archibald's complexion, and that face had already turned from ashen to iron-blue.

"What is the third?!" Archibald's voice seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth, carrying a chilling coldness.

Silas hardened his heart and went all out: "Third, he wants you—he wants you to come out of the city personally, kneel before his horse, and kowtow to apologize for his dead people!"

"Boom!"

These words were like a thunderclap from the nine heavens, fiercely striking the brains of everyone on the city wall.

Silence.

A deathly silence where one could hear a pin drop.

Everyone was stunned; they widened their eyes, opened their mouths, as if they had heard some Arabian Nights tale.

Ten times compensation?

Open the treasury to move whatever they want?

And—and want a Marquis who governs a province to kneel before a Baron's horse and kowtow to apologize?

This—this is not negotiation; this is demanding a life! This is stripping away Marquis Archibald's face, dignity, and wealth,

along with the face of the entire western noble circle, throwing it on the ground, and stomping on it fiercely!

"He—he how dare he!"

A young noble general trembled with anger, his face flushed red, pointing at Roko below the city and cursing: "Madman! He is a complete madman! Who does he think he is? His Majesty the King?!"

"That's right! This absolutely cannot be agreed to! This is a humiliation to the entire western nobility! Let's fight him to the death!"

"Marquis, give the order! We would rather die in battle than suffer such a great humiliation!"

For a time, there was indignation.

The young officers were all filled with righteous indignation, as if they had received a great insult, clamoring to fight Roko to the death.

However, those older advisors and battle-hardened generals all fell silent.

Their complexions were equally ugly, but in their eyes, there was more gravity and... fear.

Fight to the death?

With what?

Take these city guards who spend most of their time patrolling the streets and catching thieves to clash head-on with those three hundred black-armored knights below the city who could wipe out the Poison Scorpion Society branch and kill a Golden Grade powerhouse?

Don't joke.

That's not a decisive battle; that's a one-sided slaughter.

Not to mention, that young man named Roko himself is a monster who can slash out sword auras dozens of meters long and has strength comparable to a Golden Grade powerhouse.

Who is going to block him?

You? Or me?

Most importantly, the man doesn't intend to attack the city at all right now.

He just waited quietly outside the city, hanging that bloody head at the city gate, and spreading these three highly humiliating conditions throughout the city.

This is a strategy to kill the heart!

He is disintegrating the military and civilian morale of Sunset City!

The longer it drags on, the more intense the panic and rumors in the city will become. By then, before he even attacks the city, the city will have fallen into chaos itself.

What ruthless means! What poisonous strategy!

This young man is not only terrifying in strength, but his mind is even more monstrous!

"Pfft!"

Just as everyone was thinking differently, Marquis Archibald suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood.

His body swayed violently a few times, and his whole person seemed to have been drained of all strength and spirit in an instant; if not for the guards beside him supporting him, he would have collapsed to the ground.

"Marquis!"

"Master, are you okay!"

Everyone was shocked and surrounded him.

Archibald waved his hand, pushing away the guards who were supporting him.

He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand; those eyes that were originally filled with anger and unwillingness now only had a deathly gray.

It's over.

He knew he was completely finished.

From the moment he decided to provoke Roko, he had already lost.

He lost to his own greed and arrogance.

He thought the opponent was just a lamb that could be manipulated at will, but he didn't expect it to be a prehistoric beast in sheep's clothing.

Now, this beast has bared its fangs and is about to swallow him whole, skin and bones.

Resist?

With what?

His biggest reliance, "Poison Blade," now has his head hanging at the city gate.

The army in the city seems to be tens of thousands, but when it comes to fighting for their lives, how many people are willing to be buried with him, this Marquis who is about to fall?

He could even feel that the advisors and generals who used to flatter him were now looking at him with a strange look.

That is pity, is alienation, and even—is eagerness to move.

If he doesn't make a decision, I'm afraid that before Roko slaughters his way in, these people will tie him up and send him out for their own self-preservation.

"Hehe... hehehe..."

Archibald suddenly laughed in a low voice, his laughter filled with desolation and self-mockery.

He walked to the battlements, leaning on the cold stone wall, looking at the figure on horseback below the city, like a god or demon.

Under the sunlight, that black armor reflected a cold luster, and that golden flame griffin flag seemed to be mocking his incompetence and stupidity.

"One hour—" he muttered to himself, his voice hoarse.

Roko didn't give him an hour to consider at all.

That was clearly a countdown to hell.

Time passed, second by second.

The atmosphere on the city wall became increasingly heavy, making it almost impossible to breathe.

Roko below the city wall still closed his eyes, motionless, as if he had fallen asleep.

But those three hundred black-armored knights were like three hundred statues, yet the killing intent they radiated became increasingly thick, as if it had turned into substance, enveloping the entire sky over Sunset City.

Panic was spreading in the city.

"Poison Blade's" head and Roko's three conditions spread like wings to every corner of the city.

Countless citizens and mercenaries flocked to the vicinity of the city wall, wanting to see with their own eyes that legendary man, that madman who dared to issue an ultimatum to a provincial Governor.

Their discussions converged into a huge wave, impacting the inner heart of every defender on the city wall.

"Marquis, time—is almost up." The goat-bearded old man reminded tremblingly.

Archibald's body shuddered violently.

He slowly turned around and scanned his "confidants" who were trembling like cicadas in winter.

He saw anxiety in some people's eyes, fear in others, and—flickering hidden deep in the eyes of some.

He understood.

He had no choice.

Either take his ridiculous noble dignity and be reduced to ashes with this city.

Or, abandon all dignity and live like a dog.

"Pass—pass my order—" Archibald opened his mouth, every word seeming to use up all the strength in his body.

His voice was as hoarse as an old bellows.

"Open—the city gate—"

When Marquis Archibald's hoarse order came down from the city wall, everyone thought they had misheard.

"What? Open the city gate?"

"Is the Marquis crazy? Does he want to surrender?"

"No—no way? Really going to agree to that kind of condition?"

The soldiers guarding the city gate tunnel looked at each other, their faces filled with shock and disbelief.

They were the defenders of Sunset City, the soldiers of Marquis Archibald; they had the pride of westerners in their bones. Letting them open the city gate to a little-known Baron and accepting that kind of humiliating condition was harder than killing them.

"Execute the order!"

A general rushed down from the city wall and roared at the stunned soldiers.

His complexion was equally ugly, but military orders were like mountains; he had to execute them.

"Creak—"

The heavy winch began to turn, making a harsh friction sound.

That huge city gate, which symbolized the dignity of Sunset City and had not been opened to an enemy for decades, opened slowly, bit by bit, under the gaze of countless eyes.

Sunlight shone in from the crack in the door, illuminating the ashen faces of the soldiers behind the gate.

On the city wall, there was a deathly silence.

Those young officers who had just been clamoring to fight to the death were now like ducks whose necks had been pinched, all opening their mouths, unable to speak.

Their faith, their pride, were crushed to pieces at this moment, along with the opening of the city gate.

Below the city wall, the originally noisy citizens and mercenaries also instantly quieted down.

They widened their eyes, watching the slowly opening city gate, watching the figure walking out behind the gate, surrounded by guards, like a walking corpse.

It was Marquis Archibald!

He really came out!

He really is going to... surrender?

Everyone's gaze subconsciously turned outside the city.

That young Lord sitting on the warhorse, who had been closing his eyes from beginning to end, finally opened his eyes slowly at this moment.

His eyes were as calm as water, without any ripples.

As if everything happening before him was within his expectations.

He just watched quietly, watching the Marquis who had once been high above, holding the power of life and death over the entire Sunset Province,

walking toward him in a daze, like a stray dog.

Archibald's footsteps were as heavy as a thousand pounds each.

From the city gate to the front of Roko's horse, it was only a short distance of a hundred meters, but he felt as if he had walked for a century.

Countless gazes, like sharp swords, pierced his body.

There were those of the defenders on the city wall, those of the citizens outside the city, those of the Commercial Alliance, and—those of the three hundred black-armored knights behind Roko.

In those gazes, there was shock, disdain, pity, mockery...

He felt his face burning with pain, as if it were being whipped fiercely by a whip.

How high-spirited had he once been?

As the Governor of one of the three major western provinces, with one stomp, the entire western noble circle would tremble.

But now, he had to kneel before a poor, shabby Baron from the New Wind Province whom everyone looked down upon!

Humiliation!

Unprecedented humiliation!

His body was trembling, his teeth were chattering, and his fingernails were deeply embedded in his palms, drawing blood, but he was completely unaware.

He wanted to turn and run, he wanted to draw his sword and commit suicide.

But—he didn't dare.

He was afraid of death.

Only when truly facing the threat of death did he realize that the so-called noble dignity was so unworthy of mention.

Finally, he walked to the front of Roko's horse.

He raised his head and looked at the young man looking down from above.

On that young face, there was no expression, and his eyes were as cold as ten-thousand-year-old ice, making him feel a tremor from the bottom of his heart.

"Roko—Master."

Archibald squeezed these words out of his throat with difficulty, his voice as dry as sandpaper rubbing.

Roko didn't speak, just looked at him quietly with those cold eyes.

That look was as if he were looking at a dead man.

Archibald's heart sank completely to the bottom.

He knew he had no room for bargaining.

He closed his eyes, and all his strength seemed to be drained in this instant.

"Plop!"

Under the gaze of tens of thousands of people, the Governor of Sunset Province, Marquis Archibald, softened his knees and knelt heavily before Roko's horse.

"Boom!"

The entire Sunset City exploded!

"My god! He knelt! The Marquis really knelt!"

"My god! What did I see? A Marquis kneeling to a Baron!"

"This world is too crazy!"

Countless people exclaimed, unable to believe their eyes.

This kneel didn't just kneel away Archibald's own dignity, but the face of the entire Sunset Province, and even the entire western noble circle!

From today on, the name Roko Raymond will ring throughout the entire kingdom!

On the city wall, countless soldiers slumped their weapons, their faces filled with confusion and despair.

Their Lord, the object of their loyalty, knelt before the enemy's horse in front of everyone.

What was the point of their battle?