The shouts of battle echoed within the distant valley, interspersed with drumbeats and the blare of bugles.

The shrill howling of the Holy Wind, the thunderous roars of the Holy Thunder, and the clashing sounds of hooves and armor never ceased for a moment.

The fierce assault five days ago came to an abrupt halt after the defeat of Stentok and his men.

The Border Knights, seeing the raid unsuccessful, settled into the task of digging trenches and filling them with earth.

The shield carts rested at the edge of the moats, while the captured laborers, faces smeared with sweat and dirt, shed tears while gritting their teeth as they tossed clumps of earth into the trenches.

Inside the parapets, wave after wave of arrow rain came down, and frequently, a dozen laborers were struck, clutching their arms or thighs as they rolled and wailed in pain.

Yet, when they were transported to the rear and the arrows removed, the monks used a Divine Art to relieve their pain and stop the bleeding, only to send them back to the front lines.

Between Ladan Castle and Salt Flats Market, the Centaurs resumed their old trade in former days.

They galloped across the plains, storming into shepherd villages or settlements, driving both people and sheep towards Ladan Castle.

Those pushing carts, filling trenches, and digging pits now were mostly these unfortunate shepherds.

All they could get was a hollow promise: for every ten burlap sacks of earth a day, they would get food, and if they carried for three consecutive days, they would be allowed to go.

That's all they could hope for.

Seeing those numb and despairing shepherds, Lalor felt an inexplicable anger rise within him.

"Did you see clearly? How is it?" Farcaish, his companion propped on his shoulder, asked, dripping with sweat.

Lalor, holding a pair of binoculars and sitting on Farrcaish's shoulder, said nothing, continuing to observe the battlefield.

About half a minute later, he patted Farcaish on the shoulder: "Let me down, this wave of attack is over, those Dog Knights didn't come up the western mountain path."

Hearing this, Farcaish Mushador exhaled in relief and then crouched down to let Lalor off.

Lalor couldn't keep his balance and plopped down on the ground.

Farcaish couldn't hold back a laugh.

"Laugh, laugh for what," Lalor grumbled, patting the leaves and dirt from his backside.

Compared to the previously lean Lalor, he was much sturdier now.

"If you're sure they've not come up, we should head back and report."

"Let's go."

Moving cautiously through the shrubs and grass, Lalor was extremely careful, fearing capture by those Church soldiers.

A month ago, Lalor would have never imagined that after Old Laver enlisted voluntarily, he would follow suit and enlist involuntarily.

Originally, he had just joined the local Defensive Army at Bryson's introduction.

He never expected that delivering food supplies to Ladan Castle would land him in a great battle, trapping him there unexpectedly.

The plan was for one brother to tend to the family and the other to fight, but both ended up on the battlefield, leaving only Little Laver to look after home.

The child didn't seem reliable; it was uncertain whether he could handle the responsibility.

Shaking his head to clear his mind of these random thoughts, the two walked side by side, quickly weaving through the pine forest shrubs, arriving at a nearly 80-degree rock face.

Pulling a rope from the vines, the two ascended rapidly to the top of the slope without any safety measures.

Compared to the quiet on the other side, the top of the slope was bustling with activity.

Before them, dozens of soldiers were either snoring on the hard stones, kindling fires to stew broth, or sitting in a circle playing cards.

But lively as it was, the top of the rock was not nearly as lively as the mountain face on the other side.

Just as Lalor climbed atop the rock face, he heard continuous battle cries and orders.

As he peeked out, an arrow flew, embedding itself in the grassy ground, nearly piercing his foot, startling him almost into falling back down.

Raising his head, at the rocky edge stood dozens more Thousand River Valley hillfolk, all readying bows and arrows.

Peering through the shoulders of the hillfolk, one could see the Border Knights moving along a path on the opposite mountain some fifty or sixty meters away.

On a mountain path barely wide enough for three, a troop of Border Knights was pressing on, gritting their teeth.

The golden embroidered lions on their standards had long been stained gray with mud and sewage, while their brocade robes had been torn to tassels.

On one side was a sheer vertical gray limestone wall, on the other, a mist-covered chasm.

But these were bearable; the most terrifying were the crossbow arrows shot from both sides and the logs and rocks tumbling from the cliffs.

For the hillfolk of the Thousand River Valley atop the mountain, shooting arrows was a simple affair.

Almost all hillfolk could shoot; in the Mountain County where entertainment was scarce, archery was an indispensable part of the daily life of most hillfolk.

Arrows and crossbow arrows penetrated precisely through the weak points in armor, rather than bouncing off.

Unfortunately, most of these Border Knights wear armor with silk linings, so most arrows can't even make a nail-sized hole in them.

This results in most of the Border Knights being pierced like porcupines, yet they're still able to steadily advance against the rolling stones and logs.

Seeing Lalor return, the nominal captain of the squad, Bryson, approached with a furrowed brow: "How is it? Can we get through?"

"There's no sign of the enemy on the western mountain path. Just as well, our allies on the other side are drawing their attention. We can descend the mountain first, then circle back up."

"Are you sure about this?" Bryson's face showed even more distress, "Our guide just died, are you certain this path is safe?"

"What choice do we have?" Lalor retorted bluntly, "The Dog Knights' encirclement is getting tighter, if we keep waiting, we'll just die here."

Lalor had no desire to die here, he still wanted to see his daughter marry.

Two days ago, due to the Dog Knights' assault, not only did their squad lose their captain, but they also lost contact with the main force and were caught in the Border Knights' encirclement.

Without seizing this opportunity, they were just laying down to die.

Upon hearing Lalor's words, Bryson swallowed hard.

This was just supposed to be a chance to gain some experience, how did it turn into a life-and-death situation?

Thinking of the legendary tortures of the Inquisition, Bryson couldn't help but break out in a cold sweat.

"Signal to the other side of the mountain, we're moving out immediately." Bryson too hardened his resolve, once the decision was made, it was executed directly.

After issuing the order, four two-person scouting teams were sent out to scout in all directions.

Over a hundred soldiers quickly gathered their gear and proceeded along the preplanned route down the mountain. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

As the saying goes, "In sight, but far away," and "It's easy to climb a mountain, but hard to descend"; a seemingly short journey took longer than expected.

By the time they were truly close to the foot of the mountain, it was already approaching evening.

Fortunately, along the way, they didn't encounter any Dog Knights.

Lalor couldn't help but marvel at the ingenuity of the ry Court Barracks Artisans. Who researched these long-range viewing devices like telescopes?

As part of the vanguard scouting team, Lalor and Farcaish lay behind the bushes, particularly longing for a telescope.

At this moment, under the dark evening sky, they could even see the Border Knights' tents not far away.

It's a pity the telescope was taken, otherwise he could observe the movements of those Dog Knights.

Having scoped out the path ahead, Lalor and Farcaish drew a simple map and prepared to return.

But as Farcaish moved, Lalor quickly pulled him back.

"Shh—" Lalor put a finger to his lips, pointing towards a shadow not far away.

Torchlight flickered, as a farmer soldier dressed in a jute robe, holding a torch, walked toward them with a bored expression.

Don't come over, don't come over!

Lalor's entire body tensed up, only able to silently pray in his heart.

But contrary to his wishes, the patrolling sentinel continued walking straight toward Lalor's direction.

"Who's there? Password!" In the dim evening, with shadows crisscrossing in the pine forest, the soldier raised his torch high to see.

But as the light shone towards the bushes, a dark figure suddenly lunged forward.

With a grim face, Lalor smashed his forehead into the tall sentinel's nose, causing blood to gush out immediately.

The two of them rolled together instantly, and the sentinel's torch bounced away to the side.

After the initial dizziness and panic, the sentinel immediately tried to draw his short sword to retaliate.

But quick-eyed and deft, Lalor kicked away the sentinel's short sword from his waist.

However, his attention wavered for just a moment, leading the sentinel to bite down on Lalor's hand covering his mouth.

The pain made his eyes squint tightly, but Lalor dared not let out a cry.

Instead, the sentinel was delighted, opening his mouth wide to shout.

Just as he opened his mouth, he saw a young mountain man with a terrifying expression beside him, lifting a human head-sized rock high.

"Smack—squelch—"

As the sentinel's head caved in and brain matter leaked onto the ground.

Lalor and Farcaish exchanged glances, finding no joy in their eyes.

It's fortunate the sentinel couldn't send out the alarm, but if he didn't return to camp for a while, the knights would become alert.

Farcaish wiped his hands on some bark: "What now?"

"I'll handle the body, you go notify Bryson." Lifting the body under its arms, Lalor smiled bitterly, "Looks like we'll have to travel by night."