Upon learning of the sentinel encounter, Bryson had no time to lament, "The Holy Father wishes my ruin, not for combat faults," and was forced to embark that very night.

If they didn't leave overnight, they would be captured.

Originally, if it weren't for this sentinel encounter, their journey wouldn't be like this.

In a normal scenario, they should have quietly switched directions at the foot of the mountain and gone back up by early morning, to meet their allies.

But now, having killed the sentinel, given the Border Knight Order patrol frequency, it would be discovered in about an hour or two.

If Bryson and his group were still nearby by then, they would surely be caught in an ambush.

Returning was even less possible.

During the fierce mountain skirmishes of these past days, several passable mountain paths were guarded by the Border Knights.

The situation was urgent, leaving no option but to venture through the night.

The will of the mountain folk indeed proved firmer than that of the Plain People; one isn't exaggerating the endurance of mountain folk.

Despite fighting a fierce battle in the morning and marching through mountain paths in the afternoon, these people still managed to muster strength for night marching.

It's just a pity that none in this group had training as a guide.

During the day, they relied on the telescope for directions, but now they had only a vague sense of direction to advance.

Clouds obscured the moon at night, making the forest even darker, and they dared not light torches, relying instead on feeling their way through the dark.

Rustling sounds abounded in the forest, mingled with shadows, enveloped from all directions by impenetrable darkness.

With a stick in their mouths and treading lightly, they couldn't afford to slow down.

They couldn't make too much noise, couldn't fall, and certainly couldn't lag behind.

For no one would stop for them.

The ones behind had to hold onto the shoulders of those ahead, stepping carefully to move forward.

Leading the way were still Lalor and Farcaish, the duo.

The two not only had to discern direction in the dark but also needed to accurately predict the Border Knight Order patrol path to guide the group around.

It seemed that due to the sentinel's death, tonight's patrol teams were exceptionally numerous and frequent.

They encountered patrols several times, but managed to escape unscathed, without another incident like the earlier sentinel.

Perhaps having entered the Holy Alliance control area, subsequent patrols were few.

By dawn, they were almost completely out of sight.

After daylight broke, they still didn't know where they were, but at least they were rid of pursuit.

In a mountain hollow, the exhausted Lalor and the other soldiers could barely sleep.

Bryson, on the other hand, chewed some coffee beans and herbs, forcing himself to stay awake to organize teams for scouting.

Around noon, Lalor woke.

But as soon as he opened his eyes, he saw Bryson staring at him with bloodshot eyes.

"Lalor, oh Lalor." Bryson stared at him intently, as if seeking some revelation from him.

Lalor instantly shook off his sleepiness: "What are you talking about? Brother Bryson."

Bryson said nothing, instead grabbing Lalor's sleeve and pulling him toward a slope.

Lalor was pressed against the ground by Bryson, and together they crawled to the top of the slope.

Peeking through the stems of periwinkle and helianthemum towards the north, Bryson's previously scattered gaze became focused.

Down the slope, less than 200 meters away, was a Lord's Pasture at the foot of Dusk Bell Mountain.

The banner bearing the black grass character of the Border Knight Order fluttered, while sentry thrushes perched on the pole, emitting sharp calls.

Tents, bales of fodder, bags of provisions, and spoils stacked up at this site.

On the expansive pasture, packed full of warhorses.

By the size of this pasture, there must be no less than three thousand warhorses!

Lalor blinked hard, clearing the crust from his eyes, then asked in a low voice, "What is this? Why so many warhorses?"

Bryson, who arrived earlier, had already figured it out: "You've forgotten that be it attacking Ladan Castle or Dusk Bell Mountain, these horses can't go up!"

Lalor immediately understood.

Knights normally dismounted for combat, soldiers had to push carts and dig too.

Thus, knights' warhorses naturally were fostered in the rear, forming this vast horse camp.

"I asked around." Bryson's voice had a tone of excitement, "More than half of us can ride, about two people per horse."

"You mean we steal horses to flee?"

"Yes." Bryson nodded, "There are plenty of Rangers and Dragon Cavalry in the periphery, and among Shepherds are Defenders professing the Holy Father's teachings, let's seek refuge with them."

"Isn't this someone's logistics camp? Wouldn't the place be heavily guarded?"

Bryson arrogantly wagged his finger: "I've had scouts comb the place, overall there are fewer than five hundred men, mostly farmer-soldiers with scant regular troops, guess how many knights we found?"

"How many?"

"Just one knight with a broken leg."

"Such weak defense?" Lalor couldn't help but exclaim, "This is where warhorses are kept!"

But on second thought, Lalor understood.

This is the place where the Imperial Guard had earlier set their lines.

Upon capturing this line, it lies deep at the rear, so vigilance naturally relaxed.

Who would have thought Lalor would come up with the tactic of a roundabout descent before ascent, wandering the night until reaching the logistics camp?

Yet, such logistics camps, the Border Knight Order had many.

This particular camp was primarily for horse storage, hence the great number of horses.

These past days the frontline pressed tight, estimating other knight personnel were redirected.

"Are you sure there's only this number?" 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

"We still scout to ensure there's no mistake." Bryson couldn't repress the joy of escape, "Plus, with our numbers, by night, there's no need for direct conflict, enough to flee.

If swift and blessed by the Holy Father, if we're lucky, they might not even realize..."

Listening to Bryson's mutterings, with the fresh breeze blowing, Lalor suddenly fell silent.

After staring at the camp for three minutes, Lalor turned to Bryson beside him and said, "Do you want to try something bigger?"

"What bigger?"

"If we fail, we're done here." Lalor gritted his teeth, "But if we succeed, you could go to the Royal Court Barracks, and I wouldn't have to worry my daughter can't marry off for a lifetime!"

"...Hmm."

"Two, two hero medals!"

"...Um—"

"Gatekeeper Monk, Exorcist Monk, even Disciple Monk!"

Bryson seemed like a ruptured clock, still clicking, but body unmoving.

"Just tell me, are you in or not?!"