Medisha sat clad in silver armor atop her unicorn. Her visor was down, revealing only her eyes, petite nose, and mouth. The Elf Princess pressed her lips together, holding onto her long shuttle, silently watching the scene before her.

Behind her were Yuta, Fern, and nearly a thousand cave dwellers. The cave dwellers hunched over, shrouded in dark, spiky metallic armor, and held giant spears like creatures of war.

Yet this army did not stand in the direct path of the Jandener forces.

Medisha watched the battle silently.

Yuta couldn't understand: "Aren't we going up?"

"That is not our enemy, Yuta, I never said our target wasn't Madara." Medisha replied, looking at the distant mountain.

"But... they can't hold them back!" The Maid Corps Commander was a bit nervous as the army approached menacingly.

"The Lord has his plans." Medisha glanced back at her, smiled slightly, a cool gaze embodying unquestionable trust: "You're too tense."

"The Lord doesn't have many men either." Yuta stared at Medisha in puzzlement.

"Enough." Medisha said: "I am the main commander of this reserve force, first and foremost I must obey tactical arrangements. The Lord says he can handle it, and what I need to do is trust his judgment. And our target is Madara,"

"I think I must be crazy." Yuta shook her head, murmuring.

But Medisha chuckled: "Thank you for staying with me, Yuta."

"You're just a little girl after all." Yuta sighed, thinking of her own sister. She touched her sword and suddenly felt her hand grow cold.

...

Brand watched the slender boy. The mother ran over in terror to protect her child, raised her head, and looked at him pleadingly.

"Lord, the enemies are moving." Someone among the mercenaries said at this time.

Brand nodded, turned back: "I am your lawful lord, whether you are refugees or my subjects, as long as you live in Tonyger, I will protect you. As long as you remember this, that's enough."

Having said this, he tugged on the reins, preparing to leave. But to everyone's surprise, that child loudly retorted: "Liar, you're all bad people!"

"Hm?" Brand was startled, pausing involuntarily.

"Daddy said, if it weren't for you being here, there wouldn't be a war."

"Lord..." The man grabbed his son nervously: "He... he..."

But Brand shook his head, turned back and gazed at all those he had brought from the Black Forest. Everyone was looking at him, the Tree Elves, Centaurs, Druids, and those human mercenaries. Brand nodded to them and then dismounted, drawing his longsword with a resonant clang under everyone's watchful eyes.

The poor woman let out a terrified scream, but Brand walked to her side, gently holding her emaciated hand, shaking his head kindly, reassuring: "It's alright, don't worry."

The woman and man looked at him tensely. He turned back and patted the little boy's face: "You are a little man, I have a question for you."

The little boy stared at him.

"If one day, someone tried to take your mom and dad away from you, what would you do?"

"If they dare, I'll hit them!" the little boy replied confidently.

"Well said." Brand praised: "Then let me ask you, little man, if one day someone tried to take you all away from me, to take this country, what do you think I would do?"

The little boy looked at him confusedly.

"I would also hit them." Brand said with a light smile. He remounted his horse, pointing his longsword forward—within the forest, Jandener forces surged, but the two armies always stood at a distance, the situation in Tonyger, and even the entire Erune over the months seemed to culminate in this final confrontation—who could change the kingdom's fate?—Brand stared ahead, speaking sideways: "So did you all hear that?"

"Hit them!" the mercenaries boomed in response.

"Hit them!" the Centaurs were boiling with passion, this was the life they pursued, chasing battle after battle bestowed with glory, until the last drop of blood was shed. Perhaps war itself was meaningless, but protecting the most precious things between belief and hope was always worthy of respect.

The Tree Elves placed their bows on their chests, singing in unison those ancient battle songs widely circulated between humans and elves in the early days.

The eagle spreads its wings, the crossbow raised high, light triumphs over dark, hope guards belief—

These were ancient songs from the era before the Saint War, when the intelligent life on earth could still unite against the Dark Dragon, vowing a sacred and solemn oath. But a millennium passed in the blink of an eye, who still remembered it all?

Brand and Queniel exchanged smiles.

"How to fight." the Tree Elf Leader asked.

"You guys go stop Jandener's forces," Brand replied lightly: "Since Pallas wanted the Grusians to block me, I'll go smash his left wing to teach him a lesson; these noble lords tend to underestimate people, from now on I want them to remember this lesson."

"You alone?" Queniel looked at him in surprise.

"Me alone?" Brand smiled and shook his head, turning back, he put his index finger and thumb to his lips and blew a long whistle. The whistle echoed far within the dark coniferous forest, heard by every combatant.

The forest suddenly grew silent.

Suddenly, a howl echoed in the distance. Moments later, the howling calls responded, resonating throughout the mountain forest, as if by some incredible speed closing in on them, in just moments, the howling sounds became clear as if next to their ears.

The earth began to tremble, like a thousand horses galloping.

Pallas immediately reined in his warhorse, stopping suddenly. The face under the steel mask of this old knight changed slightly, all the knights around him stopped simultaneously, turning toward the direction of the wolf howls.

A wolf pack, and not an ordinary wolf pack.

The residents living at the edge of the Black Forest, of course, knew all too well what creature those howls belonged to. "Black Wolves!" the mountain people were the first to panic, generations living in the barbaric lands, their myths filled with countless tales about these terrifying creatures.

At this moment, they could only think of one thing.

A wolf tide.

"The wolf tide is coming!"

The old knight's face turned ghastly pale.

And Queniel looked at Brand standing like a knife on horseback, standing alone amidst the galloping pack, as if seeing a Wolf Shepherd from myth. Brand turned back and smiled faintly at him: "Is that enough?"

Queniel said nothing, simply raised a hand to him in a Tree Elf battle signal.

In an instant, countless Flying Horses soared from the forest. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

...

(PS: My cold is somewhat better, but I have to go out for some medicine later, so we'll stop here today. Tomorrow Brand will go on a slaying spree, you know, maybe I'll even give a little burst.

Also, those comments in the Book Review Area about 'forming a chest' or whatever, mind your manners, really? Brand indeed felt a reaction from the Divine Artifact, and the Lion Heart Sword really is a Fantasy Level weapon, as for why, you'll have to guess for yourself.

And Shadow Mother, I caught you saying bad things about me in the Book Review Area, the Night Staff or whatever is a BUG in itself...)

(To be continued. If you like this work, you are welcome to go to Qidian (qidian.com) to vote for recommendation tickets, monthly tickets, your support is my greatest motivation.)