Chapter 354 - 341: Undercurrent

Gutian Territory, in the East of the Golden Valley Kingdom.

Count Baltsar swirled the fine, amber-colored wine in his glass, thoroughly pleased with himself as he basked in the fawning laughter around him.

He was in the brightly lit banquet hall of a lavish manor, a place of boisterous laughter and clamor, as if sealed off from the outside world.

Inside the hall, many pretty commoner girls with terrified eyes were forced into ill-fitting, magnificent dresses, trembling as they served the nobles food and wine.

They had not been chosen for their beauty, but had been reduced to tools for the nobles to flaunt their power and satisfy their twisted desire for dominance.

Baltsar watched a girl nervously spill a few drops of wine. He chuckled softly, showing no anger.

This feeling of superiority, of holding the power of life and death over others, was an essential spice for the banquet.

"Once good news arrives from the front lines, that fertile valley of the River Domain will be added to our territory..."

A portly Viscount waved his short, stubby arms, spittle flying as he dreamed aloud of how they would carve up the land’s resources and people.

The air was filled with agreeable, greedy laughter, and no one sensed the disaster that was quietly approaching.

Suddenly...

An utterly shrill scream, filled with terror, tore through the quiet of the night, instantly drowning out the din of the banquet.

The music stopped abruptly. Laughter froze on people’s faces.

It was followed by the heavy, dense thud of horse hooves, like the beating of war drums, growing closer and closer. The sound pounded the earth and hammered against the eardrums of every noble present.

Mixed in were the sharp clang of metal, short and panicked shouts, and more chillingly, wails that were cut short.

"Wh-what’s happening?"

"Is it a beast?"

"Guards! Where are the Guards!"

Panic spread through the magnificent banquet hall like a plague.

The nobles, frantic with fear, huddled together.

"Quiet! Everyone, be quiet!"

Count Baltsar forced himself to remain calm, shouting to quell the commotion.

"It’s just some foolish thieves who don’t know their place, or perhaps a lost beast! Why are you all in such a panic?"

He puffed out his chest, trying his best to appear composed.

"Don’t forget, I have two exceptionally skilled Knights under my command! No matter who has come, they will be dealt with swiftly..."

His words had some effect. A few of the nobles calmed down slightly, trying to believe this was just a minor incident.

However, this forced composure did not last long.

The sounds of fighting and screaming from outside did not die down quickly as Baltsar had predicted. Instead, after a brief, violent clash, they abruptly vanished.

A complete, dead silence fell—more terrifying than the chaos that preceded it.

The thick, nauseating stench of blood wafted in uncontrollably through the cracks of the door and on the night breeze, so strong it was almost suffocating.

Just then, the sound of footsteps—clear, steady, and incredibly oppressive—came from outside, ascending the marble steps one by one.

"THUD... THUD... THUD..."

Each step felt like it was trampling on the hearts of everyone in the hall.

Finally, the footsteps stopped just outside the closed doors of the banquet hall.

Under the terrified gazes of countless eyes, the heavy, ornately carved doors were slowly pushed open.

Where the deep darkness of the night met the brilliant light of the hall, a tall, stern figure came into clear view.

He stood amidst the bloody stench rising from a sea of corpses, like a judge emerging from the Abyss. His cold gaze swept over the terrified faces inside the banquet hall.

Without a word, Roland raised his hand and tossed two heavy objects onto the polished floor.

They were the heads of the two Knights Count Baltsar had been so proud of, their faces twisted and frozen with the terror they felt before death.

The objects landed with a dull thud, shattering any lingering hope in the room. In the dead silence, only the sound of suppressed gasps remained.

Looking at these once-unreachable nobles now trembling like lambs to the slaughter, Roland felt a fleeting sense of unreality.

’Once upon a time,’ he thought, ’I was just a boy who had to fight with all his might for a spot as a Blacksmith Apprentice.’

’These noble lords were like figures in the clouds to me, completely out of reach.’

’Even the lowest-ranking Baron was someone I would never have dared to offend.’

’And yet, now...’

His thoughts snapped back to the present. Expressionless, Roland pulled a roll of parchment from a leather pouch at his waist. The edges were worn, and it was densely covered with a record of the innumerable crimes committed by the nobles of Duke Anno’s domain.

In a low, clear voice, he read out several names. Each name made the person called tremble, and among them was the ashen-faced Baltsar.

When Roland’s cold gaze fell upon Baltsar, the Count seemed to want to make a final struggle. He mustered his aristocratic arrogance and barked sharply.

"Who are you? Do you know who I—"

Before he could finish, Roland lost the patience to listen and gave a clean, simple wave of his hand.

Soldiers who had been waiting outside immediately flooded into the banquet hall. The cold glint of drawn swords instantly replaced the brilliant lamplight.

"Clean this up. Don’t harm the innocent."

The next moment, desperate screams, pleas for mercy, and the horrific sound of blades cleaving through flesh erupted behind him.

A few of the nobles who practiced the Knight’s Breathing Technique tried to resist, but against the current Roland, it was like an egg trying to smash a stone.

In an instant, the thick stench of blood overwhelmed the aroma of fine wine and food.

Roland flicked the blood from his Secret Silver Longsword, sheathed it, and without a backward glance at the belated judgment, walked straight out the doors of clamor and death, leaving the banquet of slaughter behind him.

He looked up at the deep night sky, lost in silent contemplation.

The situation was developing just as he had predicted.

Anno’s defeat had been too sudden, leaving him no time to send any warning to the nobles in his territory.

Without unified command or any forewarning, the vassals were completely defenseless against the meticulously planned military operation led by Roland and the Duke.

The Duke had divided his forces into three columns, led by himself, Gloria, and Roland respectively.

The three armies advanced like sharp spearheads, thrusting straight into the heartland of Duke Anno’s domain.

The advance was exceptionally smooth, meeting only sporadic and feeble resistance.

Within just a few months, nearly half of Anno’s territory had changed hands. The fall of the rest was clearly only a matter of time.

And yet, despite the smooth progress and the near-total lack of decent resistance, Roland felt not the slightest bit of ease, let alone any joy of victory.

A vague sense of unease constantly lingered in his mind.

This was because during this time, neither the army he personally led, nor the forces of Gloria or the Duke, had managed to find any definitive trace of Anno himself.

The enemy, severely wounded and corrupted by Abyssal Power, seemed to have evaporated completely, leaving not a single clue behind.

’Where could he be hiding? Could it be...’

Roland turned his head to look west.

That was the direction of Golden Ears City, the Royal Capital of the Golden Valley Kingdom.

As Roland was deep in thought, a tall, lanky figure staggered over, a thick stench of alcohol preceding him.

He seemed to completely ignore the lingering smell of blood, and was taking a deep swig from a rather exquisite-looking bottle.

"Hey, Roland! Try this!"

he called out indistinctly, shaking the bottle in his hand.

"I just dug this out of the wine cellar. It’s a real treasure! Packs a punch!"

"No, thank you, Galvis."

Roland declined the offer, looking with some resignation at his seemingly ever-unreliable companion before asking a question.

"You didn’t come all this way just to have a drink with me, did you?"

"So boring."

Galvis pouted, then wiped the grin off his face, his tone becoming slightly more serious.

"Alright, down to business. News from the Duke. They found a trace of Anno and even engaged him."

He paused, his expression turning a little grim.

"They say that bastard Anno’s power has surged again. He’s ridiculously fierce. The Duke was injured, but thankfully, his forces had an absolute numerical advantage, and they managed to repel him in the end."

Roland’s gaze sharpened.

"Which way did Anno flee?"

"Golden Ears City."

Galvis said the name, then tilted his head back for another gulp of wine.

"Our current position is closest to Golden Ears City. Should we just take our troops and pursue him directly?"

However, Roland decisively shook his head, rejecting the suggestion.

"The fact that he could seriously injure the Duke," he analyzed calmly, "means Anno’s control over that Abyssal Power has reached a new level."

"Besides, unlike the eastern border of the Golden Valley Kingdom, Golden Ears City is in the Kingdom’s heartland. The nobles there, including Prince Lucius in the Royal Capital, have surely received news about what’s happening in the East by now. The defensive strength and alertness in the Royal Capital’s region will be nothing like the weak and lax state of the East."

"So what should we do now?"

Galvis asked, scratching his head.

"First, we rendezvous with Gloria’s and the Duke’s forces."

Roland made his decision, but his thoughts had already flown further north.

"We’ve already opened a path connecting to the north."

"The Abyss is too strange, and Anno’s current strength is difficult to gauge. To be safe, we need to find more reliable allies."

His fingers unconsciously tapped the hilt of his sword.

"For example, King Morne, who is currently locked in a fierce battle with the Beastmen."

Roland said in a low voice, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes.

’That King... is he really... unaware of everything happening within his borders?’

The thought swirled in his mind like a hidden undercurrent.