Chapter 200

"Who are you? This is Storm Domain, the territory of Lord Gervas. You have entered the Iron Mine Restricted Zone—leave immediately!"

"Otherwise, Storm Domain has the right to deal with you as it sees fit!"

"Ignore them—push forward!"

Hearing the guards at the mountain base shout, Pat gave a quiet order to his men and pressed on.

There were at most three or five guards on this mine—unless they were suicidal, they'd never dare do anything to them.

Pat's plan this time was the same as his grandfather's: seize the mine first and take control.

Then negotiate and pressure Lord Gervas afterward.

With Lord Gervas's petty noble lineage, even though he became a viscount, viscounts differ greatly among themselves.

Once we confirm the mine's reserves, we can simply return the contract and give him back seven hundred gold coins.

"Damn it, stop right there!"

Seeing their aggressive advance, the mine guards were terrified—they abandoned their wooden gate and fled up the mountain.

"Hurry up!"

Pat's confidence soared, and his men's pace quickened further.

The iron mine wasn't tall—barely over a hundred meters high.

If they seized the summit and quickly established a position, the most critical part of his plan would be complete.

Then even if that brat showed up, he'd be powerless.

Zzz! Zzz! Zzz!

But as Pat's spirits rose, sharp whistles shattered his illusions!

Thud! Thud! Thud!

A volley of arrows buried themselves in the ground, their trembling fletching bringing Pat's entire force to a halt.

Right then, the very scene Pat dreaded unfolded—Lord Gervas himself appeared atop the summit with his men.

"Damn it, how is he here?!" Pat's face darkened.

"Lord Pat, what are you attempting? Forcibly entering another noble's territory is outright aggression—do you understand?"

Lord Pat's expression flickered, but thinking of the iron mine's immense value, his gaze hardened.

"Lord Gervas, I'm no longer selling this iron mine. I'll return your seven hundred gold coins, but you must return the mine to me!"

"Lord Pat, listen to yourself. From the moment we signed the contract, the iron ore became mine—what I do with it is my decision!"

"So let me be clear: I'm not selling this mine. Lord Pat, leave now. Out of neighborly courtesy, I'll overlook your sudden intrusion."

"But if you don't leave, I won't hold back."

"Hold back? Gervas, think carefully. Don't mistake your luck for true nobility—you're not a real viscount!"

"Cross the Pat family, and you'll regret it!"

"Lord Pat, are you threatening me?"

"You can see it that way. Gervas, cancel the contract now, and I won't take advantage—I'll return all seven hundred gold coins!"

"But if you refuse, I'll take it myself. Do you think you can stop eight hundred men?"

"Then I'll tell you this, Lord Pat: within three minutes, I expect you to withdraw from my territory—or face the consequences!" Gervas's voice turned icy.

Pat, seeing this, had no intention of leaving.

Gervas's defiance confirmed his suspicion: the mine's value had risen sharply.

"Hmph, Gervas, let me show you what true viscount power looks like!"

He turned to his vassals and the guard captain. "Charge! Show no mercy to anyone who resists!"

Pat had brought all his forces: two hundred family guards, three hundred serf soldiers, and two vassals with three hundred troops combined.

That made eight hundred men total—he'd give this luck-favored Gervas a lesson he'd never forget.

Yes, he still believed Gervas's achievements were mostly luck.

Though a bit of courage was needed, what real combat power could a petty noble possibly have?

Judging by himself, Pat thought none.

If he'd been in Gervas's place, he'd have captured those tribal heirs just as easily.

"By the viscount's order—advance, all of you!"

"Kill!"

The guard captain and vassals barked orders to their men, mimicking authority.

Then eight hundred soldiers surged forward with ferocious momentum.

Under normal circumstances, a petty noble would have already broken and fled at this sight.

After all, Lord Pat's strength along this border was indeed formidable.

But he never imagined his opponent wasn't soft clay—it was iron.

Gervas sneered. "Archers—target the enemy! Fire!"

Fifty archers swiftly took position on the slopes flanking the path and unleashed a storm of arrows downward.

Though trained for less than a month, crossbows were easy to master—now, their accuracy was already impressive.

Zzz! Zzz! Zzz!

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The arrow volley tore through Pat's charging ranks—screams erupted everywhere.

The sudden strike stunned the attackers into paralysis.

"Damn it, what the hell are those? Why so many longbows?!" Pat's face turned ashen.

"Pat, will you retreat? If you don't, I won't hold back again!" No one answered Pat—only Gervas's cold warning echoed again.

"Damn you, Gervas—you'll regret this!"

Pat wasn't frightened.

If he fled now, how could he ever hold his ground on this border?

Besides, the ones who fell first were only serfs—he didn't care.

"Kilan, Wol, Beri—lead your guards forward yourselves!"

"Kill anyone who resists—except that brat himself!"

"Yes, my lord!"

Two vassals and Pat's elite guard unit surged to the front.

These guards carried shields—excellent defense against arrows!

Indeed, under the leadership of three titled knights, over two hundred elite guards quickly advanced to the summit.

"Brat, I'll make sure you remember this day forever!"

In Pat's eyes, the outcome was no longer in doubt.

After all, he had three titled knights.

Not to mention his two hundred elite guards.

But then Gervas's voice shattered his confidence.

"Spear phalanx—advance!"

Fifty spearmen, each wielding four-meter-long spears, moved to the path's mouth and blocked the entire passage.

Pat's men still hadn't sensed the danger. "Charge!"

"Kill!"

The front-line elite guards raised their shields and charged forward.

"Spear phalanx—thrust!"

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Faster and stronger than ten days ago!

As the spears shot out, a continuous series of thuds followed.

Pat's elite guards froze mid-charge.

"Retract!"

Thump! Thump! Thump!

The spears pulled back—their victims collapsed lifeless into pools of blood.

"Damn it! How is this possible?!"

Pat, once calm, stared wide-eyed, as if his eyeballs might pop out.

The serfs killed by the archers meant nothing.

But these were his elite guards—each death was irreplaceable.