The Invincible Young Master-Chapter 208 - Old youth

A deep, resonant sound tore through the sky as the war horn bellowed across the vast green plains. It rolled like thunder, stirring the gathered armies into motion. Like three great rivers converging upon a single point, the forces of the Durn, the Jul, and the Yan advanced toward the dome of magic.

Their banners, inscribed with symbols of their respective nations, fluttered in the wind as countless feet and hooves pounded the earth in a steady rhythm.

The expedition had begun.

Yet, beneath the rhythmic march and the rigid formations, a quiet tension gripped the soldiers. They moved with discipline, but in their eyes lurked the weight of the unknown. They were stepping beyond the edge of familiarity, into a place where even the bravest knew death was likely. But for their homeland, for the threat within the ruin, they pushed forward without hesitation.

Then, as they neared their destination, the first wave of awe and fear rippled through the ranks. Murmurs of disbelief spread like wildfire.

What had once appeared as a distant dome was now revealed in its true scale. The sheer magnitude of the ruin’s emergence became horrifyingly clear. A massive crater stretched across the land, swallowing what once stood there, its depth unfathomable.

The shimmering magic barrier spanned over five miles, its translucent surface shifting and pulsing like a living entity.

Hardened warriors, men who had stared death in the face on countless battlefields, now found themselves unnerved. This was no ordinary battlefield. This was something else entirely.

…

On the eastern flank, Prince Vearos led the Durn army, his dark armor gleaming under the fading sunlight. Beside him, his loyal commanders and guards rode, their expressions tight with concern. After a moment of tense silence, a commander finally spoke.

"Is this wise, Prince?"

Vearos barely spared him a glance. "What?"

"Trusting a little girl to lead this vast army." The commander’s voice was filled with skepticism.

"You heard that elder. She will ensure our safe passage inside," the prince replied, his tone indifferent.

"Still…" the commander hesitated, his grip tightening on the reins.

Before he could finish, a new voice cut in, casual, yet sharp. "Uncle Commander, you were there during the coalition attack, weren’t you?"

The speaker was a dark-haired youth, his eyes sharp with curiosity. He rode alongside them, clad in the same armor as the others, yet there was something distinct about him, an aura of untamed power.

The commander sighed, already sensing where this was going. "Yes. What of it?"

"About that strongest man of Jul… Have you spotted him among their ranks yet?" The youth asked playfully.

The commander frowned at the question. "No."

"If I recall correctly, you described him as having golden hair, right?"

"That’s correct."

"Then… is that him?" The youth pointed toward the northern flank, where the Jul army was advancing toward the dome.

Though distance separated them, such a gap meant little to warriors of their caliber. Their sharpened senses could pick out the subtlest details, the glint of polished steel, the shifting of armor against leather, even the faint crunch of insects beneath hooves.

The commander followed the youth’s gaze and locked onto the figure in question.

At the head of one of the Jul battalions, clad in pristine white armor, a golden-haired man rode with a commanding presence. On his side, accompanying him, was the small green-haired girl from earlier, Lina Moon.

The commander studied the golden-haired man for a long moment before shaking his head. "He does bear a resemblance… but no. That is not the one."

Beside him, the dark-haired youth let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Hah… and here I was, all excited." His disappointment was obvious, though the playful glint in his eyes suggested he wasn’t entirely let down.

"Are they hiding him as their trump card or something?" he muttered, exhaling sharply.

The commander, still observing the golden-haired warrior, turned his attention to the youth beside him. "Why are you so eager to meet him?"

The youth’s lips curled into a wide grin.

"What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I be excited to meet the so-called strongest man?" He nudged the commander with his elbow. "I’ll bet even our prince is interested. Isn’t that right, Your Highness?"

Prince Vearos, riding slightly ahead, gave a short nod. "Hm."

The youth’s grin widened.

"See? Even the prince is curious." He turned back to the commander, amusement dancing in his sharp eyes. "You’ve seen him up close, haven’t you?"

The commander’s expression tightened slightly, but he nodded.

The youth continued. "Then tell me, between me and him, who do you think would win in a clash?"

The question seemed casual, but the air between them shifted. The commander hesitated. His fingers instinctively tightened around the reins of his horse. That was not an easy question to answer.

This youth, despite his carefree attitude, was not an ordinary person. His identity was known only to a few. He was the Emperor’s personal guard, an old monster in the truest sense of the word.

Before their departure, the Emperor himself had entrusted the prince’s life to him, stating that with him present, it would be as if the Emperor himself had stepped onto the battlefield.

How was he supposed to gauge the strength of someone like that?

The youth chuckled, sensing the commander’s hesitation. "No need to be so nervous."

He clapped the commander’s back lightly, though the impact felt far heavier than it should have. "I’m sure you want to say he would win."

The commander remained silent.

The youth’s grin remained, but his gaze sharpened, locking onto the commander’s eyes. "But you’ve yet to see the wider world. Often, appearances can be deceiving."

The commander blinked.

And suddenly, the world around him shifted.

The sky above turned into a swirling vortex of blood and darkness, shifting as if alive. The land beneath him was no longer the solid earth of the plains, it was bones. Endless bones.

An ocean of corpses stretched as far as the eye could see, their hollow skulls locked in silent screams. Some were fresh, their faces twisted in agony, while others were skeletal, their flesh long since rotted away.

Then the corpses moved.

Hands, thousands of them, reached out. Clawing. Grasping. Dragging him down.

The stench of rot choked the air, thick and suffocating. A battlefield where the dead did not rest, where the fallen did not sleep.

The weight of countless bodies pressed against him, an invisible force suffocating his very soul.

He couldn’t move.

Then, in the next blink, it was gone.

This chapt𝙚r is updated by freeωebnovēl.c૦m.

The green plains returned, the rhythmic march of the army undisturbed. Soldiers rode forward as if nothing had happened. The youth was still beside him, now laughing and casually chatting with another knight.

A hallucination? He swallowed, gripping his reins tightly. But no illusion could be so vivid, so suffocatingly real.