School Transmigration: I, Chosen as the Saint by Dragons at the Start-Chapter 187 --Assassination of the King

Army Maquis silently watched the carts making their way into the city, his 20 orc followers seemingly having received prior orders, dispersed and followed different carts into the city.

Eventually, only Army Maquis was left outside the city, facing the Third Centurion and the Snow Kingdom ironclad army alone.

"Hmph, it seems it’s just you and me left out here, men," Army Maquis coldly addressed Blight.

Blight’s face turned ashen, but he had no retort.

"Ironblade City has cost my army dearly. The weapons you’ve brought are insufficient," Army Maquis continued.

"The quantity of military supplies was agreed upon in advance; you cannot..." Blight started to object.

"Front five ranks!"

Army Maquis, ignoring the Third Centurion’s protest, bellowed, "Drop your weapons and leave! Or else, die!"

His roar, akin to a lion’s, reached the ears of every member of the Snow Kingdom ironclad army, quickly spreading panic through their ranks.

Soon, some dropped their shields, others their bows, spears, and even their armor as they ran, and some, in utter despair, fled with their full gear.

Those who hadn’t thought to flee lost their courage amidst the chaos, and by the time the turmoil subsided, less than a thousand remained.

Witnessing this, Blight was seething with rage, glaring venomously at Army Maquis.

"Hmph, seems like it wasn’t just the front five ranks that ran," Army Maquis remarked coldly.

"But I retract my previous statement; those who remain can still be considered men."

Blight exhaled deeply, no longer meeting Army Maquis’s gaze.

"Tell your so-called king, as long as our military needs are met, we’ll spare his dog’s life," Army Maquis continued.

"According to the agreement, Mingate will remain his."

"Fine, I hope you’ll stick to the agreement," Blight said, his voice drained of strength.

"You should thank me," Army Maquis said with a laugh.

"I’ve sifted through to find these few hundred men who are of use. Take the weapons on the ground if you wish; I have no need for cowards’ belongings."

"No need, I don’t want them either," Blight bit his lip.

"If not for the sovereign’s command upon me today, I would have let my sword speak."

"Good, you are a true man. I look forward to the day we can battle."

Army Maquis laughed heartily and turned back towards the city.

Blight stood still, his gaze lingering on the war-torn Ironblade City, as if envisioning the brutal conflict that had just ended, feeling a surge of emotions.

He slowly walked back to the remnants of the Snow Kingdom ironclad army, counted the men, and led the remaining eight hundred or so back to Mingate to report.

As the Third Centurion absentmindedly advanced towards Mingate, Snow King Bladen was already aware of everything that had transpired in front of Ironblade City.

He felt a tinge of regret; had he known, he wouldn’t have sent so many men.

He had intended to showcase his strength, but it backfired.

Yet, Bladen wasn’t overly concerned.

After all, his true strength lay in commerce; economic power could determine the course of a war.

He was convinced he was a key ally the demon army needed to court; he was safe.

He kept reassuring himself of his safety, though he was already frightened.

A month ago, the demon army’s Asura King had stealthily entered Mingate for a secret talk, threatening him with certainty that the demon army had full confidence in taking down Ironblade City.

The Jade-faced Asura, also known as the Crimson Plum Blossom in human terms, was to assassinate the Lord of Ironblade City.

If he, the Snow King, did not cooperate, he would be the next target on the Jade-faced Asura’s list.

The tragic death of Mingate’s seven centurions fifteen years ago seemed still vivid before Bladen’s eyes, making him prefer the role of a coward.

Yet, he did something decidedly uncowardly; he dispatched the royal guard to seize the remote and scarcely populated Sunset Station.

He had long resented how Ironblade City and its stations, these imperial direct territories, fragmented his domain into disarray, so this act served as a satisfying revenge.

Thinking of this, Bladen almost wanted to laugh, but laughter eluded him.

Looking down from the royal tower, he saw many of the Snow Kingdom ironclad army’s deserters wandering the streets, not noticing a young man who had just dashed into the city.

After emerging from the secret passage, Owen had sped north directly to Mingate.

Along the way, he encountered groups of Snow Kingdom deserters fleeing towards Mingate, their armors discarded, faces covered in dust and dirt, yet without any visible wounds.

Was their collapse so immediate?

Owen had some understanding of the Snow Kingdom ironclad army’s strength and thought as much.

But upon reaching Mingate and seeing mercenaries dismantling the crossbows on the southern wall, his heart sank, nearly causing him to fall from his horse.

He found a tavern to rest briefly.

After dully drinking three pots of wine, Owen pieced together the actual situation from the soldiers’ conversations in the tavern.

The snow king had already reached an agreement with the demon army.

The Snow Kingdom was responsible for supplying the demon army, becoming a vassal to them, while the demon army promised to leave Mingate under the snow king’s control, sparing the Snow Kingdom from hardship.

Soldiers returning from delivering arms to Ironblade City vividly recounted a harrowing moment beneath its walls: the orc leader was a formidable figure, before whom the Third Centurion dared not even fart.

With a roar from the orc that seemed to shake the earth, thousands of monstrous beasts appeared out of nowhere, charging at the ironclad army.

The Third Centurion, who usually criticized the ironclad army for lacking fighting spirit, was so terrified that he nearly wet himself and was almost bitten to death.

Despite the ironclad army’s valiant resistance, they were ultimately routed.

These deserters boasted with a hero’s air, shamelessly exaggerating their tale.

Owen felt a pang of sorrow; Ironblade City had fought to its last breath, defending these cowards and traitors.

He led his horse towards the royal palace.

"Who goes there?" a guard at the palace gate demanded sharply.

"I am a messenger from the demon army, go tell your king," Owen replied irritably.

The guard was clearly intimidated and quickly ran to report.

Soon, a man dressed like a civil official came out to meet him.

This official, with the face of a petty merchant, was actually Snow Kingdom’s Prime Minister Miguel.

Miguel sized up Owen and asked, "I am Prime Minister Miguel.

May I know if the esteemed messenger carries any token?"

Calmly, Owen retrieved a vial from his bosom and tossed it to Miguel, saying, "Recognize this?"

Miguel recognized at a glance that it was an item of the asura race.

Upon closer inspection, he deduced from the symbols and material that it belonged to someone of high status, and recalling the asura race commander of the demon army at the frontline, he blurted out, "This is the champion’s..."

"Correct!" Owen interrupted him swiftly.

"Lead the way."

Upon learning of Ironblade City’s fall, Miguel too was terrified by the demon army, yet he harbored doubts about the identity of the young man before him.

Although the vial in his hand was very likely an item belonging to the champion king, he had never heard of it being used as a token.

Moreover, the champion king had not been involved in the previous secret talks.

And this young man looked entirely human.

As Miguel pondered, he forced a flattering smile, "You seem somewhat familiar. Have I had the honor of meeting you before?"

"Hmph, have you ever seen the true face of the faceless? Would you like to see it now?" Owen retorted coldly.

"No, no, that won’t be necessary. Please, follow me," Miguel paled with fear.

As a renowned magnate of the Snow Kingdom, known for his worldly experience, Miguel understood the nature of the faceless well: when a faceless harbors the intent to kill, the illusion concealing their true, horrifying appearance dissipates.

That statement was a clear threat.

Miguel deduced that it was a wise decision for the champion king to send a faceless as a messenger.

The false human appearance would avoid many complications.

It was no longer time to doubt the young man’s identity; better to lead him into the palace.

If this person wasn’t a messenger from the demon army, he could be dealt with later.

Returning the vial to Owen, Miguel led him to the main hall, where nearly a hundred royal guards stood in two rows on either side.

Owen ignored the guards on both sides, his gaze fixed on the person standing before the throne, back turned towards him.

Approaching to about ten meters away, Miguel bowed towards the throne, announcing, "My king, a messenger from the demon army seeks an audience."

As the person atop the throne turned to speak, Owen’s body instantly erupted with intense murderous intent.

In a flash, he charged towards the throne with his trident, which didn’t even gather a drop of blood.

The severed head rolled to Miguel’s feet, causing him a moment of stunned silence.

Then, recognizing the trident, he remembered having seen this young man before, or more precisely, a portrait of him.

"The saint of dragons?" Miguel uttered these words.

He wanted to say more, but couldn’t continue.

It was as if his throat had been frozen by a chill.

He looked down, his chin touching the blade of the trident.

In the blink of an eye, Miguel was pierced by the trident, his body torn apart.

The royal guards present had no time to react as Owen seized the moment to break towards the exit, flipping the royal guards to the ground with his trident.

Exiting the main hall, Owen followed the same route he had taken to enter the palace.

Having never visited the Snow Kingdom’s palace before, he was naturally unfamiliar with its layout.

The route to the main hall had involved several turns, suggesting the palace’s internal pathways were complex and the deployment of forces unclear.

He felt retracing his steps was the safest option.

His decision was correct.

The palace’s roads in the east, west, and south directions were convoluted, only the north had a main road leading directly to the palace’s northern gate.

Now, the most troops were deployed on the north side of the palace, with fewer on the east and west sides, and the least on the south side.

The defensive arrangement of Mingate was similar, given that the demon army to the south had become allies, the real threat was from the empire’s forces that would soon learn of the Snow Kingdom’s betrayal.