Chapter 439

No matter what, to avenge, to expand, and also to obtain warm land and peaceful sleep, Deep Forest and Beimosi thus became mortal enemies.

As is the case today.

Accompanied by the mournful horn echoing across a sky dotted with falling snowflakes, Beimosi warriors, though dressed differently from their kin but with red cloth strips bound around their arms, launched another attack.

Although the northern border of Deep Forest lacks the magnificent spectacle of the Absolute Boundary Wall, as a warlike nation and a long‑contested land, it naturally possesses no shortage of sturdy defenses.

Moreover, the battlements of this towering castle are filled with well‑trained Deep Forest hardy troops, who, with the aid of the mage corps, swiftly began an orderly counterattack.

However, under the khan's reorganization, the Beimosi warriors are not divided by tribe or ethnicity, but are mixed according to individual ability and specialty.

Thus, the massive shields borne by the brute‑force warriors act like moving fortresses, covering the entire attacking force.

Behind the shields, shamans of various tribes skilled in supportive magic apply buffs, while expert hunters adept with bows and crossbows each fulfill their roles.

Although the coordination among units, and even among individuals, is far from seamless, the Beimosi have practiced this tactic for many years, so overall obvious flaws are now few and far between.

Consequently, the Deep Forest counterattack is ineffective; most strikes are blocked by the sturdy shields and strong bodies, and they can only watch as the grassland forces' blade edge gradually presses toward the base of the city wall.

Soon, the horn in the wind and snow sounds again, but this time it plays a different tune.

Thus, the massive shields are lowered with a thud, and, thanks to their frames and the interfaces between them, they truly form a wall.

This is the wisdom of dwarves and goblins—truly a group of small folk who are good at fighting yet not skilled in war.

But the Deep Forest people also possess their own wisdom, such as the youth in mithril armor on the battlements.

Gazing at the lion‑headed royal flag snapping in the cold wind far away, he pressed his hand down on the signal officer beside him.

"Yes, sir!"

The signal officer bellowed, began waving the flag in his hand toward the side, and activated the classic flag‑signal information chain.

Thus, the mage squads on the city wall all received the signal, gathered together, and, under the guidance of a magical array, began to weave their spells.

With everyone gathering firewood, the flames rose high; having been trained countless times and used countless times, they quickly readied their magic.

And it is genuine fire, for they have assembled a super‑super‑super‑super‑large second‑ring magical explosion spell.

This is essentially a fantasy version of a human‑filled missile cart; with eight units of the battle group on the battlements, they launched a full eight explosion bombs.

However, they can weave spells, and the grassland people are no strangers to that either.

After decades of conflict, these little tricks have long been second nature to them, and they have developed their own counter‑style of fighting.

First, the shamans, who had long been prepared, began frantically stacking all kinds of buffs on the shield‑bearers that add blood‑shield auras.

Then the shield‑bearers, drawing upon their full qi and blood to awaken the battle markings on their bodies, spur their flesh into an all‑out, desperate fighting stance.

Next, the tribal priests, shaking their staffs and chanting ancient, obscure words, cause new battle markings to grow on the shield‑bearers' bodies.

After all, this is a land that has been chaotic for thousands of years; how could the Beimosi Grassland, no matter how primitive or backward, lack its own version of a special weapon?

Such a special battle marking, which can be bestowed by priests and exists only for a limited time, is called a tribal totem among them.

This has nothing to do with any deity; it is a product of mixed nature worship and ancestor worship, emphasizing that remembrance brings echo.

In its original primitive form, its purpose was actually to serve as a trump card for the major tribes, allowing some warriors to burst forth at critical moments to turn or completely end the battle.

But after the khan iterated the old version and researched new tactics, it became a massive killer on the battlefield, just as it is now.

"Loyalty! Comrades! Ancestors! Glory!"

Amid the chaotic shouts, the shield‑bearers stepped forward like angry bulls, firmly bracing the massive shield before them.

At the same time, those eight explosion bombs arced across the frigid sky and fell toward the grassland formation below the city.

If this strike lands, the violent blast could laterally ravage nearly a kilometer, utterly tearing apart that attacking force.

However, when the bombs were only a few meters away, a grand golden‑yellow light shield burst forth.

There was no violent explosion, nor fierce clash; the terrifying bombs were consumed like mulberry leaves eaten by silkworms.

Moreover, this defense did not exhaust the grassland side's entire strength; another batch of similarly empowered brute‑force warriors seized the moment and launched a full‑scale charge.

These people look utterly savage; those in the know say it's the grasslanders launching a fierce assault, while the unaware might think it's the Shaolin Temple's eighteen bronze men transformed into elephant‑rhino mini‑giants.

Bearing multiple layers of buffs and glowing with golden light all over, they literally hauled the heavy siege wagon out with the vigor of a kid violently playing with a toy, dragging and pulling it, clearly about to reach the city wall and start smashing.

At the crucial moment, it was still that youthful noble who raised his side‑sword and commanded the long‑waiting archers to launch a second wave of attack.

"Fire! Fire!"

In an instant, magical arrows rained down, and many of them were alchemically strengthened bolts that could trigger violent explosions upon impact.

This time the grassland folk experienced no large‑scale ancestral‑protection phenomenon, and even a single enhanced warrior could not withstand this terrifying advanced weapon.

"Whoo, roar……"

Even the iron‑clad war mastodons were blown over by that terrible force, collapsing with wails and crushing a large swath of grasslanders who had no time to flee.

The attacking force that had been tugging here for over an hour finally could not endure the massive losses and pressure, and announced a temporary retreat at the sharp clang of the gong.

"Long live! Long live!"

Seeing the enemy retreat, the besieged soldiers, likewise on the verge of bursting from pressure, immediately burst into hysterical cheers, like a tide overturning mountains and seas.

A general in sturdy armor also swiftly stepped onto the battlements and knelt respectfully half‑kneeled beside the youth.

"Your Third Highness, the enemy has retreated; at least today daytime, they should be unable to form an effective attack!"

Indeed, this commander who directs the troops resisting the grassland siege is none other than the Third Prince of Shen Lin Wang Guo, Asgallo Lionheart.

Haha, does he look familiar to you?

Back then, to prevent his second brother from acquiring the Fengxian clan's magical ballista technology, he spared no effort to strike first, exterminating that artisan clan.

The people were surely all killed, and he obtained the ballista technology, yet he learned that the Fengxian family had secretly developed magi‑driven armor technology.

However, the head of the Fengxian family, knowing this technology was of utmost importance, had their strongest daughter flee at lightning speed while taking it with her.

Logically he should have succeeded, but who would have known that among the Third Prince's retinue there is a curse master who commands countless utterly vicious curses?

He then took the entire Fengxian clan as offerings and placed upon this Lady AdaiEr Fengxian a dreadful curse that links through bloodline.

The idea was to torture her to death, transform her strong resentment into a living corpse, then attach a strange remote‑control secret art so she would willingly bring the blueprints back.

And then……and then there was nothing after that.

In order to obtain the full mission reward, and incidentally save his little assistant, Ji Ming directly launched a saturation attack.

This resulted in the sorcerer master, who discovered that the target had suffered no damage at all, attempting to open a passage to check the situation, being blasted half to pieces by the massive life energy surging out.

And when the legendary prophet wanted to see who dared to spoil the prince's good deed, he, faced directly with an unshielded higher-dimensional existence, had his brain burned out on the spot.

What's worse, they had clearly lost two important technical personnel, yet the Third Prince didn't even know who the killer was, so he could only vent his anger by stabbing voodoo dolls of AdaiEr every day.

Although this behavior of trying to steal a chicken but ending up losing the wife and soldiers looks laughable, one must never underestimate the Third Prince, nor his title of 'Prince'.

As a state that initially relied on farming and warfare, then later on combat to establish itself, the Deep Forest royal family's involution is far worse than that of the Radiant royal family.

Although the Radiant royal family raises gu insects, at least it guarantees the king's descendants a baseline status as princes and princesses, promising them lifelong stipends and wealth and honor.

Meanwhile, the Deep Forest royal family simply plays a thrilling, explosive battle royale: regardless of who your mother is, anyone who fails to pass the tribulation becomes a nameless, baseless illegitimate child, with not a penny to their name.

Only those who can pass the trial and prove their strength are qualified to be the king's eldest son and enjoy the titles of prince and princess.

Thus, the Third Prince's 'three' does not indicate he is the king's third child; rather, it signifies that he is the third among the king's descendants to have passed the assessment.

As for what princes and princesses… well, they're all bullshit!

Because when the battle royale ends and the ultimate winner successfully wins the chicken dinner and is crowned king, the first thing he does is judge his own brothers and sisters.

You traitors…… why are you interfering with my ascension to the throne?

Only those who survive will have the right to keep jumping around, under the lord's grace to become whatever insignificant prince or princess, and be locked up at home to raise pigs.

And those who are dead are dead; who told you you couldn't learn morality, offending people so badly that all your previous efforts are wasted.

This is also the fundamental reason why the Third Prince can kill an entire family over a worthless piece of paper and, without hesitation, impose a bloodline curse.

It's not that he was born with the saintly body of a web novel male lead, destined to be obsessed from birth; rather, this painful environment forces him to become obsessed.

——It's all just to stay alive, big brother!

But given the current stalemate, staying alive is obviously not easy.

Thus, before speaking, the Third Prince still couldn't hold back a sigh.

General Feng En, how much longer will our reinforcements take to arrive?

Upon hearing this, the middle-aged fierce general wielding a long weapon, whose face already showed some difficulty, became even more torn.

Being a martial artist, he was inevitably inarticulate, chewing on something as he fidgeted a few times before finally forming suitable words.

Reporting to Your Highness, according to the latest intelligence, the armies of the two dukes…… might arrive at the earliest tomorrow.

Bang!

This is the crisp sound of steel striking ice.

Tomorrow!!!

Tomorrow, tomorrow, and tomorrow again! How many more tomorrows are there!!

He slammed his fist down on the walltop, and before the general could finish speaking, the Third Prince turned around, gritting his teeth.

The steppe people have been marching south for seven days, and we have held this position for seven days as well; we've just fired off the last batch of explosive arrows—do they think we can hold out another round?

I……

Feng En couldn't possibly answer the Highness's question, which was loaded with fury; he could only lower his head and shrink his neck.

And the Third Prince also realized he had misdirected his anger, so he stepped down the stairs and patted Feng En on the shoulder.

Forget it, this isn't your fault. Go and summon Viscount Ke Li Si Ting for me.

Although Ke Li Si Ting is not an especially rare name, there won't be many who can appear here.

Thus, after the heavy hoofbeats drew near from afar, a mountain‑sized giant centaur slowly climbed onto this city wall, which was somewhat narrow for her.

And fearing she couldn't withstand the oppressive pressure of the huge creature approaching, Ke Li Si Ting hadn't even spoken when the Third Prince preemptively started waving his hands.

Your Lordship Viscount, no need for excessive courtesy; given the urgent situation, let's just get straight to the point.

Ke Li Si Ting wasn't one to grovel; if she could avoid kneeling once, why not? So she merely nodded.

Thank you, Your Highness, for your understanding.

As for why she could appear in this perilous city that could be trampled by the steppe people at any moment, we must start from when she just returned to Deep Forest.

Relying on the vast wealth and court capital left by the former mercenary alliance leader Fei En, Ke Li Si Ting, with the help of her deputy, arranged things up and down in the Deep Forest Royal Capital, and indeed successfully restored the Pearl family's reputation and reclaimed her viscount title.

But while she herself was enjoying being the big boss, the remnants and defeated troops she had gathered from all over were out of luck.

Deep Forest's wolf‑like culture had already been etched into the bones; when these losers returned home, they didn't get a warm welcome from their mothers, but rather all kinds of brutal beatings.

If it weren't for the bounty and retirement funds issued by the Ke alliance leader, which they could use to buy their lives at critical moments, the number of those who would die from this would be far more than just one or two.

And Ke Li Si Ting eventually softened a bit under Ji Ming's influence; after consulting with her left and right arms—that is, the Shuang Ju Ren and her deputy—she made a somewhat crazy decision.

Exactly, she intends to rehire this group, who, although they had only been with her for less than a month, had at least teamed up and traveled this far as former mercenaries.

The mercenaries certainly had no objections; hearing that there was a place willing to take them in, they were overjoyed and wrote letters en masse to pledge their loyalty.

And their respective masters, having received the money, were also willing to let this bunch of good‑for‑nothing losers go, thus giving her an initial core team.

Although after some back‑and‑forth, this group feels deep gratitude and filial devotion toward her, now that she has become a viscount, their morale is usable.

But Ke Li Si Ting clearly knows they cannot be used directly, because……

If they were really elite troops, the various nobles would have to be sick to allow them to transfer!