Chapter 451: Chaos Is a Staircase

The next day at noon.

Duke Feishe stood at the window of his study on the third floor, looking down at his castle.

After half a day and a night of repairs to Bengliu Fortress, most of the damage from yesterday's battle had been fixed; even the gate that had been blown apart by magic had been restored by Weizelan's wizards, leaving only a few traces of new construction, otherwise unchanged from before.

The castle can be repaired, but the dead cannot be revived.

Duke Feishe's expression was sorrowful as his gaze swept over the centaurs posted at the castle's sentries, crossed the walls, and fell on the opposite side of the moat beyond Bengliu Fortress, where a continuous stretch of tents formed a makeshift camp.

More centaurs ran and trained across the spacious camp, their shouts mingling with hoofbeats, disturbing the castle and the nearby townsfolk, leaving everyone unable to rest properly all night.

However, what caught Duke Feishe's attention was not the centaurs but the knights riding bronze pegasi.

And the group of extraordinary warriors clad in blue armor.

Their numbers were small—fewer than two hundred in total—but the combat power they displayed still haunts Duke Feishe; last night he had hurriedly recruited a few mercenaries familiar with the Empire from Baroske City, and after questioning them learned that both extraordinary legions were private forces forged single‑handedly by the Earl of Glamorgan.

One was called the Extreme Corps, composed not of humans but of barbarians from the Saen Plateau, who have risen like a comet over the past two years and have earned a formidable reputation even within the Empire.

The other was the Gunwing Knights.

They were not as renowned as the Extreme Corps, a notch weaker in strength, yet their unique fighting style far surpassed any legion in Kangjiatuo.

All the Soul Guns employed by the two legions were crafted by the Earl of Glamorgan himself, sparking countless inquiries, but with Weizelan's Fu Kong Cheng behind him, he could keep the Soul Gun manufacturing secret.

"Earl of Glamorgan..."

Duke Feishe's gaze was complicated.

After learning more, he realized what kind of opponent he faced; the young man's story was nothing short of miraculous—born a commoner, he became a disciple of a Holy Soul Wizard, rose to Legendary Wizard within two years, entered Weizelan's Six-member Council, and amassed a series of legendary deeds, as if a hero stepped out of an epic.

The extraordinary mercenaries from the Empire who arrived last night spoke of the Earl of Glamorgan with animated faces, their brows alight and their expressions full of adoration.

That the Dragonborn was linked to such a legend, bringing a Wizard Corps to Kangjiatuo, meant the cold kingdom was destined for unrest.

Unsurprisingly, the Earl of Glamorgan's relationship with Princess Aimeilis went far beyond mere cooperation.

The castle guards reported that the two had shared a bedroom last night, showing no concealment of their intimacy.

"He is the key to the Dragonborn's restoration!"

Duke Feishe cleared his thoughts, yet his mood remained complex.

The stronger the Earl of Glamorgan, the greater his backing, the higher the chance of restoring the Zhuogeng Fortress dynasty; as the first family to swear fealty, the Feishe family, holding the Dragon's Merit, would see the Dragonborn reclaim the throne and thus reap greater benefits.

Yet his inner resentment and bitterness could not be erased.

Duke Feishe returned to his desk, picked up a briefing that listed the losses from the Bengliu Fortress battle, the most striking figures being the casualties among the Sturgeon Warriors.

Light injuries: one hundred twenty; severe injuries: forty‑five; deaths: nearly three hundred!

Duke Feishe closed his eyes in pain; the Hewan Legion had only about thirteen hundred Sturgeon Warriors, and losing over three hundred at once was the heaviest casualty the legion had ever suffered since its founding.

Training each Sturgeon Warrior was extremely difficult, with the family pouring countless resources and effort.

Duke Feishe could name any Sturgeon Warrior, knew their lineage and families, even remembered their parents and spouses, had taught and trained them hand‑by‑hand, watched them grow; now they lay as over three hundred shattered corpses, and recalling this made his heart bleed.

Beyond the Sturgeon Warriors, the Hewan Legion also fielded fifteen hundred extraordinary beings, who had likewise received massive investment; their losses were even greater, with casualties exceeding seven hundred!

In less than a quarter‑hour of fighting, the Feishe family's power was reduced by thirty percent.

Not to mention the five million gold dragon ransom.

If the culprit behind all this were any family of Kangjiatuo, Duke Feishe would pursue the enemy relentlessly, even tolerating temporary compromise, to avenge this sea of blood.

However, the opponent came from the Empire.

Their power was so overwhelming it was despair‑inducing; opposing them now or defecting in a future war would only lead to an even more tragic fate.

Thump thump thump!

The study door was knocked, and Duke Feishe took several deep breaths, steadied his emotions, regained his composed and dignified expression, then spoke.

"Come in."

The one who entered was his adopted son, Berisi.

He had led the family's legitimate heirs through an underwater secret passage out of the castle during yesterday's battle, but was intercepted by wizards, the entire river froze, and the escape failed.

"My lord Duke," Berisi's build was as slender and proportioned as any Sturgeon Warrior, his appearance strikingly handsome with gray‑green eyes, a small tuft of beard on his chin, dark hair streaked with a few gray strands, already middle‑aged.

He glanced at Duke Feishe without a flicker of emotion, then scanned the briefing on the desk.

Berisi had also reviewed the report's contents; although the duke's demeanor was calm, as one of his closest confidants he knew the duke's mood was far from the placid surface.

He opened his mouth to speak but stopped, a trace of sorrow appearing on his face.

"Berisi, what's the matter?" Duke Feishe barely furrowed his brow, remaining seated as he asked.

"Lord," Berisi gently wiped his eyes, concealing his lapse, "the lords are nearly all assembled, the ceremony in Baihe Hall is set up, we can begin."

"Alright, thank you for your effort," Duke Feishe nodded.

He knew Berisi had not rested since yesterday; the adopted son's abilities were unremarkable, though he possessed resources several times those of other Sturgeon Warriors and personal tutelage, having cultivated for over thirty years only to barely reach the high tier, now unable to advance further.

Nevertheless, Berisi was quick‑witted and reliable, possessing intellect beyond the ordinary, so he was often kept close and entrusted with many tasks.

At times, Duke Feishe even felt regretful, wishing Berisi were his biological son.

"Princess Aimeilis and the councilors?" Duke Feishe asked.

"They are all resting in the castle," Berisi's eyes flashed as he whispered, "My lord, shall we notify them now to hold the ceremony?"

Duke Feishe glanced at the wall clock, "Wait another hour."

Berisi turned and took his leave.

Just as he was about to exit, Duke Feishe suddenly called him back, paused a few breaths, and asked in a low voice, "Do you think the restoration of the Zhuogeng Fortress dynasty would bring more benefits or more harm to the Feishe family?"

Berisi returned to the desk and looked again at the casualty briefing.

He pondered for a moment before replying, "My lord Duke, our lands border the Laobodi'er family; for millennia the disputes have been endless. Overall the Feishe family has been at a disadvantage. When Mark seized the Iron Throne, it further disadvantaged us, subjecting us to constant oppression, which is why we allied with Duke Dans, standing opposite Mark."

"My lord, our territories, population, and army are all inferior to the Laobodi'er family; this hierarchy was set when the Seven Great Families divided Kangjiatuo."

"This order has persisted to this day; if we cannot break it, the Feishe family cannot rise again."

"The Laobodi'er family is our number‑one enemy; they are our greatest threat!"

"The loss before us is temporary; the dragon‑born's restoration war will cause massive chaos for Kangjiatuo, and it is our once‑in‑a‑thousand‑years chance."

Berisi stared into Title: Duke Feishe's eyes, paused, then said slowly: "Chaos is a ladder; it lets us ascend to higher positions."

Title: Duke Feishe fell silent, offering no reply for a long while.

Berisi bowed respectfully and stepped back.

An hour later, Title: Duke Feishe emerged from the study. He changed into solemn, splendid attire, a sword at his waist, a fish‑shaped badge on his chest, his gray‑white hair neatly combed, and entered the White River Hall escorted by a crowd of sturgeon warriors.

"Title: Duke."

"At your service, Title: Duke!"

Several lords had already gathered in the hall; they were all vassals of the Feishe family, arriving at Rushing Flow Fortress with dust‑covered guards after hearing of the castle's upheaval on the road,

the dragon‑born's return, the fall of Rushing Flow Fortress, Title: Duke Feishe swore allegiance…

This string of news shocked the lords; some doubted its truth until they reached Rushing Flow Fortress and saw thousands of half‑centaurs outside, and Baroske City's residents were also spreading rumors of the dragon‑born, confirming it was real.

They were summoned to the White River Hall and found it occupied by a group of tall warriors in blue armor.

The aura of these extraordinary warriors was terrifying.

They placed no restrictions on the lords' movements, nor showed hostility, but the lords felt like sitting on a bed of needles, and their guards stood obediently, daring not to speak.

Only when Title: Duke Feishe appeared did the lords relax slightly, as if finding a backbone; each had countless questions for their lord.

"Everyone, sit down."

Title: Duke Feishe stepped onto the steps beneath the statue of Oshenna, yet did not sit on the high‑backed chair that usually signified a duke's rank.

He stood at the edge of the chair, scanning his vassals.

"The news you heard is all true. I have decided to renew my loyalty to the Zhuo Geng Fortress family, and fully support Princess Aimilisi in the campaign against Marck, to reclaim the Iron Throne." Title: Duke Feishe declared loudly.

Even though they were mentally prepared, the lords gasped at hearing Title: Duke Feishe's own admission.

Title: Duke Feishe raised his hand to quiet them, "My vassals, you are obligated to dispatch troops and join the army that hunts the usurper."

"Who supports, who opposes?"

Title: Duke Feishe swept over the lords; unsurprisingly, some averted their gaze, their faces showing hesitation, unable to make such a weighty decision at once.

Another lord rose immediately to pledge loyalty, half‑kneeling, shouting: "Barrekken family swears to follow Title: Duke."

"Darri family swears to follow Title: Duke."

"Marisde family …"

Several lords voiced their stance in a soaring momentum, forcing the remaining vassal families into a corner; sensing Title: Duke Feishe's attitude, they knew there was no room for discussion and could only swear.

"Very good!"

Title: Duke Feishe nodded with satisfaction, a look of contentment on his face.

He silently scanned the Extreme Warriors standing around the hall; this coercion of vassals to send troops was both fulfillment of yesterday's promise and a performance, showing Earl of Glamorgan his sincerity.

Among these Extreme Warriors were several legends who would surely tell their lords what happened in the White River Hall.

Suddenly, Title: Duke Feishe noticed something.

His vassals were not all present.

"Where is Viscount Wadfrey?" Title: Duke Feishe asked Berisi, who was in charge of this matter.

"Lord, Viscount Wadfrey should be late." Berisi replied quickly; the viscount's fief is Cold River City, located at the eastern border of the duchy where it meets the Laobodi'er family lands, the farthest from Baroske, and ranks among the top three in strength among all vassals.

Title: Duke Feishe frowned; even at that distance it was less than three hundred li, and for a super‑human a day‑and‑night journey to Rushing Flow Fortress is more than enough.

"I'll give him a quarter of an hour."

Berisi hurriedly sent someone out to inquire; within a quarter hour, a sturgeon warrior rushed in, whispering that Viscount Wadfrey had refused the duke's summons.

Title: Duke Feishe's face turned grim.

Cold River City's relationship with the Laobodi'er family has always been ambiguous, and now, at the crucial moment, it betrayed Rushing Flow Fortress.

"Father…" Title: Duke's eldest son Aidemu asked cautiously, "Should we wait a bit longer? Perhaps there's still a chance."

"No need, begin the ceremony." Title: Duke Feishe gestured.

The bell tower of Rushing Flow Fortress rang, its sound reaching Baroske City; one tower after another chimed, causing all residents to look up toward the castle.

In the solemn atmosphere, Aimilisi entered Rushing Flow Fortress through the main gate, followed by Lei En and three Weizelan councilors, four great dragons and a host of retainers. Under the curious gaze of the lords, she walked into the White River Hall, stepped to the statue's base, ascended the steps, and sat on the high‑backed chair.

Title: Duke Feishe led a half‑kneel salute, about to speak, when he heard Lei En, standing beside Aimilisi, ask first:

"Title: Duke, are the people not all present?"

Title: Duke Feishe felt a chill; indeed, the events in the White River Hall could not be hidden from this legendary Wizard, so he answered truthfully: "Viscount Wadfrey of Cold River City betrayed us; rest assured, within three days I will give the princess an answer."

"Why wait three days?"

Lei En's words startled Title: Duke Feishe; as he looked up, Lei En flashed into the hall's center, raising his left palm that glowed with flickering blue light.

At the same time, the Extreme Warriors surrounding the hall gathered, their heavy footsteps making the floor tremble lightly.

One minute later, a towering portal opened.

People saw the scene beyond the portal; a noble lord recognized it and shouted, "Cold River City!"

Immediately, two squads of Extreme Warriors surged into the portal.

Tap tap tap tap…

From the other side of the portal came a barrage of gunfire, the battle fierce, with many dying screams. The portal closed quickly, but Title: Duke Feishe and the vassal lords all knew a slaughter was unfolding in Cold River City.

In the White River Hall, a pin could be heard falling; the lords trembled, awaiting the end of the massacre three hundred li away.

(End of Chapter)