Chapter 30: One-sided Massacre! Capturing Morris!

"Yes, Young Master!"

Hart immediately turned and went out to prepare.

Only Roko, Fula, and Martina were left in the tent.

"That..."

Martina rubbed her little hands and spoke somewhat embarrassedly.

"If the plan succeeds, can you give me more of that meat jerky from just now?"

"And other delicious food?"

"I heard that in your human territory, all kinds of delicacies are produced."

Roko looked at her little money-grubber appearance and couldn't help but laugh.

"No problem."

"As long as we win, there will be plenty of meat jerky."

"There will also be other delicacies."

"As long as you can eat it."

Getting the promise, Martina beamed with joy, and even her fox ears twitched happily.

Late at night, the moon was dark and the wind was high.

Inside Morris's camp, most of the soldiers had already entered dreamland.

Only a few patrolling soldiers leaned lazily against the fence, yawning.

They didn't believe at all that that Raymond brat dared to take the initiative to attack them.

After all, they represented Baron Carter.

Morris was currently drinking inferior ale in his tent.

He was also somewhat irritable in his heart.

The spies sent out, after approaching Roko's camp, were like stones sinking into the sea, not sending back any news.

That Roko was like a tortoise, guarding the camp tightly.

"Hmph, Marquis young master, so what?"

Morris took a gulp of wine, his face carrying disdain.

"Just a piece of trash exiled to the border by the family."

"Wait until Father's army arrives, let's see if you can still be so tough!"

"By then, the treasures here will all be ours, father and son!"

As he spoke, a greedy smile appeared on Morris's face.

However, he didn't know.

The scythe of the God of Death had already quietly hung over his head.

In the dense forest on the west side of the camp.

Hart led forty Knights, sneaking like ghosts.

Their movements were soundless, their cooperation tacit.

Everyone's eyes flickered with cold killing intent.

On the other side, Roko personally led the remaining ten Knights, as well as Fula, and circled to the gentle slope behind the camp.

Looking down from a high position, one could clearly see the situation in the camp.

Fula followed closely behind Roko, although somewhat nervous, the little hand holding the dagger was very steady.

After this period of cultivation and battle, she was no longer the little Maonv who would only hide in Roko's arms and tremble.

The 【Flame Griffin Breathing Method】 operated slowly in her body, and the power of the Quasi-Knight peak gave her fairly decent strength.

Martina stayed in Roko's own camp, responsible for sitting in the rear.

And... keeping an eye on her meat jerky.

Time passed minute by minute.

When the bonfires in the camp became dim, and the footsteps of the patrolling soldiers became sparse.

A cold light flashed in Hart's eyes, and he waved his hand abruptly!

"Kill!"

Forty Knights

Their target was pointed directly at the center of the camp, the tents where those knights were resting!

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"

The shrill alarm instantly pierced the tranquility of the night sky.

The camp was thrown into immediate chaos.

Soldiers still in their sleep scrambled up in a panic, grabbing whatever weapons were at hand.

However, what greeted them were the cold blades of Hart and his knights!

Hart took the lead, his aura as a Great Knight Peak erupting without reservation!

The knight longsword in his hand was like a silver lightning bolt; with every swing, it claimed the lives of several enemies!

Puchi! Puchi!

Blood splattered, and screams rose one after another.

Although the knights under Morris reacted and attempted to organize a defense,

they were facing enemies whose strength far exceeded their own!

Whether in equipment, training, or individual strength, the knights Roko brought were steadily suppressing them.

Not to mention, there was also a Great Knight Peak, Hart, on the scene!

Hart was like a tiger among a flock of sheep, specifically targeting the enemy's knight captains and stronger knights.

Almost no one could last more than three rounds under his hand!

From the very beginning, the battle presented itself as a one-sided massacre!

At the same time, Roko also led his men charging down from the gentle slope.

Their targets were the ordinary soldiers attempting to gather and resist.

Fula followed closely behind Roko's side, her speed extremely fast, her figure like a ghost.

The dagger in her hand precisely sliced through the throats of one enemy after another.

In her heterochromatic eyes, there was not a hint of pity, only loyalty and protection for her master.

When Morris rushed out of his tent, this was the hellish scene he saw.

His knights were being slaughtered.

His soldiers were routed.

That young Marquis he had originally looked down upon was now leading his men, harvesting the lives of his subordinates as if cutting melons and vegetables.

"No! This is impossible!"

Morris's face was deathly pale, his eyes filled with fear and disbelief.

He wanted to run.

But Hart's cold gaze had already locked onto him.

"Catch him!"

Hart commanded coldly.

Several knights immediately rushed toward Morris.

Although Morris had reached the late stage of a Quasi-Knight, under the pincer attack of several knights, he was quickly beaten to the ground and tied up tightly.

With their commander captured, the remaining soldiers completely lost the courage to resist.

They threw down their weapons, knelt on the ground, shivering, and begged for mercy.

The battle ended very quickly.

From the moment Hart launched the charge to Morris being captured, it took no more than a quarter of an hour.

The entire camp was already a river of blood.

On Roko's side, three knights died, and five were lightly injured.

The dead and lightly injured knights were naturally the new knights selected from the soldiers, serfs, and bandits after arriving at Vanguard Valley.

As for the twenty or so veteran knights he brought from the family, there were no casualties.

As for the two hundred-plus people Morris brought, except for the captured Morris and a few soldiers who knelt and surrendered,

the rest, including those thirty knights, had all become cold corpses.

Hart walked to Roko and knelt on one knee.

"Young Master, mission accomplished!"

Roko nodded, his gaze sweeping over the bloody battlefield, finally landing on the ashen-faced Morris who had been dragged over.

"Let a few people go back to report the news."

"Tell them that Morris is now in my hands."

Roko's voice was calm.

"Yes, Young Master!"

Several clever knights immediately took the order and left.

After handling this, Roko looked at Morris, a cold arc curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Young Master Morris, now, we can have a good talk."

Morris was roughly dragged in front of Roko, his face covered in mud and blood, his original aristocratic dignity completely gone.

He looked up at this son of a Marquis who was even younger than himself, his eyes filled with resentment and unwillingness.

"What do you want to do?"

Morris's voice was hoarse, attempting to maintain his final dignity.

Roko did not speak, just watched him quietly.

This calm gaze instead made Morris feel an inexplicable chill.

"A lord's power depends on how many knights he possesses."

Roko's voice sounded, plain yet carrying a sense of penetration.

"Tell me, how many knights does your father, Baron Carter, have, and what is their strength?"