The Lord Of Blood Hill-Chapter 287: Angry
At this moment, those closest to Henwell in the group can sense something’s off with him.
These men are Battle Knights, with heightened awareness of their surroundings.
They realize Henwell seems angry. And he’s already beginning to emit a faint blood-colored mist.
The “Blood-red Fighting Spirit” of the Lord of Blood Hill is well known, and everyone in the group is familiar with it.
Yet, since setting out and through countless battles, none have ever seen Henwell unleash this “Blood-red Fighting Spirit”.
Now, just the presence of a single knight squad behind them unsettles Henwell so much that the others start grasping how serious the situation is.
Orak spurs his horse forward. “Henwell, what’s wrong? Are those knights behind us a problem? Judging by their banners and uniforms, they’re the newly formed Golden Guard Knights of Ika Kingdom.”
”From what I know, besides their commander and deputy, they only have one Grand Knight. But he’s still in Golden Capital awaiting promotion.”
”Without a Grand Knight, even if they have more numbers, we don’t need to worry too much. Also, since these knights haven’t hidden their identity, they’re even less likely to attack us.”
Henwell takes a deep breath, glances back again, then forces a smile. “Brother, it’s nothing! I was just a bit irritated earlier, thinking the Ika Kingdom wouldn’t stop and might strike us head-on to finish us off.”
Orak doesn’t call out Henwell’s lie.
He knows Henwell’s character and how he stays calm even facing danger.
That explanation is clearly an excuse, but Orak chooses not to press.
He senses Henwell’s troubled mind and begins taking over command of the group.
Henwell rides atop his Night Charger, furrowing his brow deep in thought.
Just moments ago, upon seeing that familiar face, his first reaction is that the Ika Kingdom has uncovered his true identity.
A surge of wild rage and fierce killing intent floods his mind.
He assumes someone deliberately sent Obian to kill him, making a brutal father-son showdown.
Countless suspects flash through his mind—from his own confidants to Duke Obiken.
He even considers Newwood and the missing Kavize, whose life remains unknown.
For a moment, Henwell doesn’t want to ponder who’s targeting him; he just wants to wipe out every suspect.
Thanks to Orak’s reminder, Henwell reins in his violent emotions and starts analyzing the situation.
First, there’s no doubt that this squad led by his father is indeed chasing him.
Second, judging by how the knights have slowed down, they seem to be merely trailing and watching.
Most importantly, despite the distance, Henwell senses no killing intent from those knights behind him.
Such an elite group’s Fighting Spirit connects as one, acting like a single entity.
If they bore hostile intent, he would feel it even from this far away.
Since his father wasn’t sent to kill him, Henwell’s confusion deepens.
Burdened with heavy thoughts, Henwell rides with the group until nightfall, arriving at their planned rest stop.
This small town, called Horseshoe Town, has just over two thousand residents.
It lies near the edge of the Tusyat territory.
Beyond here to the west, population density drops sharply. Sometimes a whole day passes without encountering even a small village.
Further west, the settlements are mostly nomadic tribes.
Horseshoe Town is the last foothold before the western region merges with Ika Kingdom lands.
Caravans reaching here usually need to reshoe their livestock, which is how the town got its name.
The westbound group is large, with plenty of animals.
The town’s inns can’t accommodate everyone, so travelers typically stay at a warehouse outside town.
But Henwell has money to burn.
He throws down gold to rent a manor on the town’s outskirts.
It’s said the manor once belonged to a knight’s family, now fallen on hard times.
The descendants, disliking the remote location, sold it off.
After several ownership changes, the mayor’s family now owns it.
With a bag of gold coins in hand, the mayor cheerfully invites the knights into the manor.
He and his family move into the town inn.
Next to the manor is a large courtyard. That’s the sheriff’s residence.
It’s now requisitioned by the knights who arrived behind them.
Of course, Obian paid for the use, though not as generously as Henwell.
The two parties live just tens of meters apart.
Their night guards keep watch, even could see each other’s expressions clearly.
Neither side shows any intention to communicate, as if the other doesn’t even exist.
Late into the night, the night watch knights on both sides almost simultaneously sense something unusual.
Moments later, two distinct whistle calls pierce the silence.
Neither manor stirs nor lights up.
In the distant outskirts, an unknown armed force approaches, but upon hearing the birdlike whistles, they pay little attention.
As long as the knights’ manor stays dark, it means their presence remains hidden.
Obian, already armored, peers from a window to see dozens of knights at the nearby manor finishing donning their armor.
Under the moonlight, Henwell’s men prepare their crossbows and weapons.
Obian’s adjutant asks, “Sir, what should we do?”
Obian glances at the tall figure calmly organizing battle plans under the moonlight.
“Tell the brothers to get ready! Stay alert! Don’t let anyone get hurt by mistake!”
Just as Obian assumes Henwell plans to rely on the manor’s defenses for a counterattack,
Henwell raises his hand, signaling the manor’s gates to slowly open.
Shield and heavy crossbow on his back, Henwell leads over fifty knights out of the manor.
Their quick march soon turns into a full sprint.
Even their short charge on foot matches the speed of a galloping warhorse.
At speeds of dozens of kilometers per hour, this knight squad moves with flawless coordination.
After a few breaths, Henwell’s team covers over several hundred meters.
Now, they’re just fifty meters from the attackers.
The knights draw heavy crossbows from their backs, notch arrows on pre-tensioned strings.
Before the enemy can react, a volley of precise bolts takes down a large number of them.
Reloading their crossbows, the knights drop their heavy round shields and draw longswords from their waists.
Henwell forgoes his shield, unsheathes dual swords, and leaps into the enemy ranks, unleashing a whirlwind of unmatched swordplay.
.
!
Chapter 287: Angry
Comments