On the tenth day after leaving Wilderness City heading west, Henwell and his group run into an ambush party.
These aren’t disguised bandits—they’re the real bandits.
Their numbers are small, just over two hundred, with barely thirty horses.
A quick glance tells everyone exactly what kind of force they’re dealing with.
Only a handful of their horses are true warhorses; the rest are even mules.
Orak raises his hand, signaling his knights to take war spears from the wagons and form up for a charge.
Henwell speaks up to stop him: “Let handle this.”
“Conrad! Hubert! Go! Bring the bandit leader here!”
Two Battle Knights step forward.
Besides the six riders driving the wagons, eleven knights—including their intelligence officer Barnett—fall in behind the two Battle Knights.
After switching mounts, thirteen knights line up shoulder to shoulder, raising their war spears to form a wall for the charge.
They’re heavily armored cavalry, all knights, this is a massacre waiting to happen.
Their cavalry wall charges forward, like a lawnmower, leaving a path of bodies in their wake.
The bandits don’t stand a chance—no ti to fight back, no courage to resist—and scatter in all directions.
After a while, the knights regroup.
Conrad tosses the captured bandit leader onto the ground.
Henwell leans down from his horse, looking at the man coughing up blood.
“Why did you attack us?”
“Bah! Damn noble scum! You might kill today, but soday, soone will kill that cursed Viscount!”
Despite broken arm and thigh bones, the man spits blood at Henwell.
Henwell chuckles: “I think you’ve got the wrong person. Though my accent’s from the Ika Kingdom, I’m actually from the Vorry Kingdom, here on official business. You’ve been used. Soone fed you false intel to make you attack us.”
The man’s eyes widen, disbelief written all over his face.
Looking at their weapons and armor, he realizes he might’ve truly targeted the wrong group.
Regret floods him. He can’t believe he trusted that intel, causing so many of his brothers to die or be wounded.
The man looks up at Henwell. “Since it’s a misunderstanding, will you spare ? I’m not afraid to die. I just have unfinished business. I need to go back and take my revenge!”
Henwell shakes his head. “No. I’m going to kill you soon.”
The man frowns, confused. “Why? The one who gave false intel must have a grudge against you. If I go back, I’ll find a way to kill him. That won’t harm you, right?”
Henwell points to the man’s broken limbs. “You’re crippled now. Do you understand what that ans? Nobody will follow a man who can’t fight. You can’t lead troops into battle. Plus, your closest allies are all dead; the rest are cowards.”
”Even if you survive and return, it won’t be long before your own n betray you. So, instead of dying with bitterness, better to die on the battlefield.”
The man stares blankly at the stark white bones exposed on his arm and thigh. He knows Henwell isn’t lying.
Henwell continues, “Alright, I’ll kill you. You have a lot of stories, but none of them concern . You can hate , curse —I don’t care. After all, you really did try to kill just now.”
”One last piece of advice: next life, you should be born into a better family, and be a little smarter. Rebellion isn’t as simple as you think, and it’s not sothing you just play around with.”
With that, Henwell raises his war spear and drives it through the man’s heart.
The man’s eyes, filled with anger and unwillingness, slowly lose their light.
Orak looks puzzled. “Henwell, why did you kill him?”
Henwell sighs. “Because leaving him alive would cause us big trouble. It’s obvious, soone wants to take us out. These bandits are just the beginning.”
Orak understands Henwell’s aning. From what the man said, these aren’t just ordinary bandits.
They’re rebels—commoners or serfs who’ve risen up against noble lands.
That changes the situation entirely.
If Henwell leaves a survivor, nobles will co to negotiate.
They’ll use suspicion of Henwell’s group stirring rebellion inside noble territories as an excuse to forcibly stop them from leaving.
Even if they can’t pin anything on Henwell, they’ll definitely stall them for a while.
That’s the main goal behind this assassination attempt.
After wrapping his head around the situation, Orak frowns. “But besides that bandit leader, so others escaped. The local nobles will definitely use them to stir up trouble. That’s going to be a headache.”
Henwell lifts his spyglass and peers into the distance. “They’re already making their move!”
Orak pulls out his own spyglass, spotting a force speeding toward them from several kiloters away.
“Too trouble.”
Henwell chuckles softly. “Heh... it’s been nothing but trouble all along on this journey.”
“So, what’s the plan?”
Henwell casually shakes his war spear. “The plan? Of course, we should deal with trouble by swords and spears!”
Orak’s eyes widen. “Just charge straight in? These are nobles from the kingdom! If this escalates, won’t it bring even bigger problems?”
Henwell grins. “Only if things get big enough will they lose the power to stop us from moving forward. Besides, we don’t even know if these are private armies of the nobles. We just ca through a brutal fight. Everyone’s on edge. Misjudgnts happen. Honestly, that last battle scared ! Brother, aren’t you afraid?”
Understanding Henwell’s point, Orak cracks a smile. “Heh... I’m terrified too!”
With that, Henwell and Orak lead the charge upfront, while the rest of their fifty-seven knights follow behind.
As the approaching force barrels toward them with fierce montum, Henwell spurs his horse forward to et them.
Just as the enemy prepares to intimidate Henwell’s group with a show of force, they realize Henwell’s already charging.
The kingdom’s viscount tries to halt his troops to explain, but Henwell’s already pushed his mount to full speed.
Leading the charge, Henwell shakes his war spear.
All the knights lower their visors and raise their spears, slipping into perfect charging formation.
Orak ignites his Fighting Spirit, and over thirty knights behind him link their spirits together, forming a unified force.
This is a special ability exclusive to knight orders—Fighting Spirits fused into one.
It requires intense training, coordination, and secret techniques to activate.
Henwell hasn’t mastered it yet, but he’s fierce enough on his own!
Leading the charge like a black lightning bolt, Henwell crashes into the enemy ranks.
The blood-red spirit condensed in his spear instantly tears through the stunned viscount’s body.
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