Translator: CinderTL
The Golden Valley Kingdom's barracks descended into utter chaos.
Flames devoured tents, thick smoke spiraling upward, casting an ominous crimson glow across the night sky.
Soldiers panicked, scattering like a startled herd of beasts, unable to distinguish friend from foe amidst the smoke and fire.
The clash of metal, anguished cries, and savage war roars intertwined, composing a bloody nocturne.
At the heart of this pandemonium lay the duel between two transcendents.
Their battle formed its own isolated realm, like the eye of a storm, isolating all other professionals.
It was a conflict on an entirely different plane, beyond mortal intervention.
Duke's body radiated a palpable, overwhelming blood qi, its raw power both ferocious and scorching, granting him overwhelming brute strength.
Each swing of his greatsword carried the force of a collapsing mountain, numbing Arno's arm and forcing him to rely on cunning maneuvers and agile footwork to barely parry.
In terms of sheer physical strength, the barbarian's advantage was undeniable.
Just as the battle reached its peak, Duke's warriors suddenly raised a banner high.
On the gold and crimson banner, a blazing sun pierced through the clouds, the emblem of Princess Gloria.
The soldiers roared in unison, their voices shaking the battlefield.
"By order of Princess Gloria, eliminate the traitor Arno!"
The Imperial Princess's name commanded immense respect among the rank-and-file soldiers. This sudden declaration and the sight of her banner struck like an invisible force, momentarily stunning many of Arno's troops and slowing their advance.
Seeing this, Duke Arno, though disheveled—his magnificent robes torn and his hair matted with sweat and dust—showed no panic in his eyes. Instead, a cold fury and a deep-seated hatred burned quietly in his gaze, never consuming his reason.
As his lines wavered under the weight of the Imperial Princess's name, combined with Duke's frenzied assault, Arno instantly grasped the true mastermind behind the chaos.
"Gloria!"
He spat the name through clenched teeth.
He recalled how, preoccupied with state affairs, he had allowed the Blazing Sun Church to operate unchecked in his territory, gathering support and influence. A wave of regret and fury surged through him.
"That cunning woman!"
But the battlefield offered no time for reflection.
After narrowly dodging another ferocious attack, Arno raised his eyes, his mind racing with cold calculation.
He understood the fundamental nature of the Barbarian Path's strength.
While the surging blood qi granted terrifying explosive power, it couldn't be sustained. Moreover, it steadily eroded the user's mind, driving their attacks to become increasingly savage yet lacking in finesse.
Duke's wild, straightforward assault perfectly exemplified this.
"What's wrong, Arno?" Duke roared with mocking laughter after a heavy strike that cracked the ground. "Is your elegant noble swordsmanship so utterly useless?"
Arno gritted his teeth, parried, and retreated, maintaining his silence.
He ruthlessly suppressed the venomous curses and seething rage beneath his icy mask, focusing all his energy on sensing, blocking, and dodging.
Like a reef enduring the relentless pounding of storm waves, he appeared passive yet remained steadfast.
Simultaneously, he calmly calculated and patiently waited for the inevitable moment when the blood qi's frenzied surge would peak and begin to wane.
That would be his sole, and optimal, opportunity to strike back.
True to Arno's predictions, everything unfolded exactly as he had anticipated.
As the battle raged on, the blood qi surging around Duke grew increasingly frenzied.
His attack strength continued to climb, but his movements had become completely chaotic, like a wild beast driven solely by primal instincts, reduced to the most basic, direct slashes and strikes.
The ground beneath their feet cracked and shattered, deep fissures carved by the rampaging blood qi and Battle Qi. The surrounding tents and supplies had long been reduced to fragments by the destructive energy, leaving the battlefield in utter ruin.
Amidst this chaotic storm, Arno's calm eyes finally caught a fleeting opening.
In the instant Duke's full-force downward slash reached its apex, his old strength exhausted and new strength yet to surge, Arno moved.
His body slid sideways, his longsword precisely avoiding the giant sword's edge. The tip of his blade, wreathed in condensed Battle Qi, darted forward like a viper's strike, aiming for Duke's wrist.
Chrrk!
A faint sound echoed as a bloody gash appeared on Duke's thick wrist.
For a barbarian transcendent with such formidable physical resilience, this was merely a superficial wound.
But the fact that he had successfully countered Duke's attack filled Arno's heart with a surge of cold satisfaction.
His judgment had been correct. The scales of victory were tilting in his favor.
Without hesitation, Arno unleashed his Battle Qi, intent on pressing his advantage and widening the narrow gap.
But just as his sword was about to strike, a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision froze him in place.
On the horizon, an army charged toward them in a thunderous wave. Banners flickered in the firelight, revealing the forces of the River Domain Nations.
Leading the charge, longsword in hand, his beard and hair bristling like an enraged lion, was none other than Dean Graham of the River Domain Knight Academy—the same man who had stubbornly resisted and proven surprisingly formidable.
The moment Arno spotted Graham's figure, his momentum faltered.
Though Gloria's banner had revealed the motive behind Duke's reckless assault, it also brought deeper suspicion and dread.
He couldn't be certain whether the Imperial Princess, whom he had always underestimated, had won over these fishermen.
If Duke and Graham had truly joined forces, Arno would have nowhere to escape today.
"Damn it..."
Arno cursed inwardly, a bitter mix of resentment and humiliation surging through him.
If he hadn't been still mastering the abyssal power, if he had completed his transformation, how could he have been cornered by the schemes of two brutes and a woman?
In an instant, he weighed the advantages and disadvantages, and a cold decision took hold.
He had to retreat.
If he could withdraw to the eastern part of the Golden Valley Kingdom, to his own stronghold, he would still have a chance to regroup and strike back.
As long as he preserved his life, the future remained open.
Once the decision was made, Arno acted without hesitation.
He unleashed a surge of Battle Qi, his sword strikes suddenly becoming ferocious. Ignoring the cost, he unleashed a flurry of attacks.
The sudden ferocity even forced the berserk Duke to stumble back half a step.
"Retreat!"
Seizing the opening, Arno roared at his remaining Royal Guard, who were drenched in blood but still fighting desperately to protect him.
"Break through to the west!"
With the command given, he abandoned all pretense of fighting and surged westward like lightning, taking the lead.
The loyal Royal Guard immediately formed a tight formation behind him, using their bodies to shield him from stray attacks from the rear. With their last reserves of courage, they tore through the enemy lines, escorting their duke as they vanished into the night, shrouded in smoke and darkness.
But the clamor of battle still echoed relentlessly behind them.
Arrows whistled through the air, striking Royal Guards one after another, sending them tumbling from their horses. Yet none faltered in their advance.
Duke Arno's forces repeatedly caught up, forcing him to turn and engage. Each clash of swords left fresh wounds, his armor shattered, his cloak soaked in blood. The once-imposing duke now cut a wretched figure.
Only when they reached a hilly region did the pursuing cries gradually fade.
Finally, Arno reined in his horse, seeking temporary respite in a secluded valley.
Fewer than a thousand Royal Guards remained, each wounded and gasping for breath.
Arno himself was nearly exhausted, a deep sword gash stretching from his shoulder to his chest, the bleeding still unchecked.
Blood and dust matted his hair to his forehead, yet a glacial glint remained in his eyes.
Erwin, who had remained close by his side, urged his horse forward and asked in a low voice, "Your Grace, what are our next steps?"
Arno panted heavily, his voice hoarse but still carrying an undeniable authority.
"Return to the east... Just get back to my territory..."
He sneered, wiping blood from his lips.
"Duke... Gloria... They will pay dearly for this day."
"But Duke probably won't..."
"Just a barbarian from the frontier..."
He tilted his chin slightly, his eyes brimming with disdain and arrogance despite his disheveled state.
"If he hadn't been so careless, allowing me a sliver of opportunity... how could he have survived this day? If I had been the one scheming in the shadows..."
Before he could finish, several sharp, piercing sounds tore through the night air.
In the next instant, over a thousand arrows rained down like a torrential storm, instantly engulfing the entire valley.
Horses whinnied in terror, and soldiers frantically raised their shields, yet men continued to fall to the ground with sickening thuds.
Arno jerked his head up, only to see the low slopes on either side of the valley now swarming with figures. Torches blazed to life, illuminating rows of taut bows and cold, merciless faces.
A booming voice echoed from above, dripping with undisguised mockery and murderous intent.
"Hey! Duke Arno! By order of Princess Gloria, Sven has been waiting here for quite some time!"
As the torchlight flickered, genuine panic finally flickered across Arno's face, his pupils contracting sharply.
He looked like a trapped beast, utterly ensnared.
(End of the Chapter)
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