Real Mount and Blade Game

Faced with the massacre, Zhang Bo felt both fear and injustice, and was powerless to prove his innocence.

The wood elf swordsman pointed towards the treehouse, guarding Yang Di, Zhang Song, and several other management ministers, trying to break through to the outside.

That was their last stronghold.

Yang Di's eyes burned with the madness of a trapped beast as he roared at Zhang Bo, "You better pray I'll let you go!"

Immediately, he led Zhang Song and several of the most elite Wood Elf sword dancers, along with Zhang Bo and Sun Zhiru and other deathly pale negotiation experts, and stumbled and staggered toward the huge, ancient treehouse in the center of the village, which resembled an apartment building, amidst the whistling rain of arrows from the Khergits and the rumbling of the Swadian cavalry trampling underfoot.

Outside the village, the sacred tree and the horse snorted.

Shen Mu sat upright on his horse, like a statue, quietly looking down at the Wood Elf village below, which had become a hell on earth.

Flames leaped up everywhere, thick smoke billowed and obscured some of the starlight. In the firelight, the Swadian heavy knights led by Rezarit charged and fought their way through the narrow village road. The heavy hooves crushed all obstacles, and the tips of their spears gleamed with a deadly cold light in the firelight.

On the other side, Bestur's Khergit heavy archers roamed like ghosts, their precise arrows taking lives, their scimitars reaping the enemies who tried to put up a fight, and constantly throwing new sparks at the thatched roofs that had not yet burned out.

The air was filled with the smells of burning, blood, and the fierce cries of battle.

Shen Mu's face remained calm and expressionless, but the reflection of the burning village danced in his deep eyes, as if he were admiring a magnificent war scene.

Fatis rode close to Shen Mu's right, slightly behind him, his left hand always on the hilt of his sword, vigilantly scanning the surroundings for any potential threats—even though the Holy Tree Knights had already thoroughly guarded the area.

"My lord, Knight Lesarit and Chief Bestur have broken through the mound exactly as planned, and the offensive is going very smoothly. The resistance inside the village is crumbling, like cheese being sliced ​​open with a hot knife."

Fatis's voice was steady, with a hint of satisfaction with the execution.

“Very good.” Shen Mu’s response was soft but clear: “Bestur’s men set the fire in time. The fire not only created chaos but also illuminated the battlefield for us. This is much better than groping in the dark.”

At that moment, a series of orderly footsteps and the sound of metal scraping came from the flank.

Bandak, clad in armor, led a heavily armed squad of infantrymen who quickly arrived to join them.

Their armor was heavy and sturdy, and their steps were firm, clearly indicating that they had just finished preparing and immediately entered the final stage of the encirclement.

"Lord Shen Mu! Sir Fatis!"

Panting, Bandak stood before Shen Muma, straightened his chest, and reported, "I have fully armed the infiltrated advance team! They are ready to engage in battle at any time! As Lord Fatis predicted, the harassment from the undead monsters on the outskirts has weakened considerably and has not affected our assembly."

Shen Mu nodded slightly: "Thank you for your hard work, Bandak. You did a great job. Your camouflage and advance lulled the enemy into a false sense of security, and your preparations at the crucial moment were spot on time."

His gaze swept past Bandak and the square formation behind him, sharply locking onto the center of the village, where the most conspicuous building under the firelight was the enormous ancient treehouse.

"Look over there." Shen Mu pointed in the direction where Yang Di, Zhang Song, and others were struggling and desperately rushing towards with Zhang Bo and other prisoners under the protection of a few guards. A cold smile appeared on his lips: "Our 'old friends' Yang Di, Zhang Song, and that 'hero' Zhang Bo whose identity has been exposed, they want to 'take refuge' in the big treehouse. It seems that's their last resort."

Fatis looked in the direction Shen Mu pointed, his eyes narrowing: "Yes, Lord. Intelligence indicates that it is the core of the Wood Elf village, possibly connected to their plane of existence, or perhaps possessing other defensive measures. Yang Di indeed had a backup plan."

Bandak also spotted the target, his fists clenched: "We absolutely cannot let them hide inside! Sir, please give the order, my men can directly storm that ghost treehouse!"

Shen Mu's gaze swept across Fatis and Bandak's faces before he decisively gave the order, his voice firm and resolute:
"Fatis, order the Holy Tree Knights to tighten their defensive perimeter. We're moving forward. I want to watch them perish."

"Yes, my lord!"

Fatis immediately gestured to the messenger beside him, and the elite knights began to move, escorting Shen Mu as they slowly advanced into the burning village.

"Bandak!"

Shen Mu continued issuing orders, pointing towards the treehouse: "You lead your heavy infantry phalanx and press forward rapidly from the east, blocking their flanks! Rezarit's cavalry is sweeping from north to south, while Bestur is blocking and containing them from the southwest. Your objective is to directly advance eastward towards the treehouse, compressing their escape routes and forming an encirclement with Rezarit and Bestur! Tell them that the 'decent' deadline has passed, no surrenders will be accepted, and all resistance will be eliminated!"

"Yes, my lord!" Bandak's eyes flashed with a bloodthirsty light. He immediately turned around, drew his sword, and roared, "Infantry phalanx! Target—the Great Treehouse! Full speed ahead! Crush them! For Lord Shenmu! For Deherim!"

Heavy, powerful footsteps sounded again, and Bandak's phalanx, like a moving steel wall, rushed straight towards that final battlefield.

Surrounded by Fatis and the Holy Tree Knights, Shen Mu rode his horse through the still-burning ruins and the corpses of his enemies, slowly entering the heart of the Wood Elf village.

The firelight illuminated his face, revealing the absolute control and coldness in his eyes.

He spoke in a low voice, as if to Fatis beside him, or as if to himself: "Look, Fatis, the old days of Balihe Street, along with this burning village, come to an end tonight."

With one hand on the reins and the other protecting Shen Mu's horse, Fatis solemnly replied, "The new order will be written by your will, my lord. The end of the Green Leaf Group has come."

In the distance, beneath the large treehouse, the flames, arrows, the roars of charging cavalry, and the heavy footsteps of infantry phalanxes intertwined to form a prelude to destruction, completely engulfing Yang Di, Zhang Song, and their remaining troops.

The noose that had been tightened was now in place.

This was a noose that Shen Mu personally placed on the Green Leaf Group!

……

Yang Di and Zhang Song were in a terrible state. Under the desperate cover of the remaining dozen or so Wood Elf Sword Dancers, they stumbled and fled toward the large treehouse in the center of the village, which resembled an ancient fortress.

The cold night wind, carrying thick smoke, the smell of blood and burnt flesh, rushed into my throat, each breath feeling like a knife cutting into my throat.

Behind them lay the Wood Elf village, now a sea of ​​fire; before them lay their only, faint hope.

"Hurry! Hurry up!"

Yang Di growled hoarsely, sweat soaking his disheveled clothes, his bangs sticking to his face, which was contorted with extreme tension.

His heart pounded wildly in his chest, his gaze fixed on the ever-approaching behemoth—the thick, tangled roots of the treehouse and its bottomless entrance, like the open jaws of a giant beast.

His mind was almost completely occupied by one thought.

"Just charge in!"

"Charge in and touch the core!"

He still has one last chance to turn things around!

That ancient tree, which harbors the power of the plane, needs to be awakened, revived, and merged with all the remaining spiritual power it possesses... Ultimately, it will transform into a war tree with terrifying combat power!

This is Greenleaf Group's last trump card.

It is their deepest link to the dimension.

This is also the unknown force that Shen Mu and his group feared!
As long as I can hold on until that moment...

However, the noose of fate has already tightened.

The piercing whistles, like the whispers of death, echoed continuously on their flanks.

More than fifty Khergit heavy mounted archers, like a pack of wolves roaming in the night, keenly locked onto this conspicuous target.

Their superb horsemanship allowed their warhorses to traverse the burning ruins and chaotic village roads as if they were flat ground, always maintaining a desperately advantageous distance for archers. "Whoosh whoosh whoosh—!"

"what--!"

"Protect General Manager Yang! Protect General Manager Zhang!"

"Block the arrow! Quickly, block it!"

The bowstring trembled, and the deadly cone-shaped arrow pierced the night sky with a sharp, whistling sound.

The arrows seemed to have eyes, piercing precisely from a tricky angle through the gap in the wood elf swordsman's hasty parry.

One after another, brave figures fell with muffled groans or screams, the splattered blood appearing particularly eerie and cruel in the firelight.

These elven guards were agile, but their defenses seemed so flimsy and futile against the high-speed, raining arrows of the Khergit horse archers.

With each arrow that fell, Yang Di and Zhang Song's hearts sank.

Every sound of a guard falling to the ground meant that another step on the path to survival had been taken away.

Fear seeped into their backs like ice water, but even worse than the fear was Yang Di's almost manic unwillingness to accept defeat and his desire for the "trump card"!

His peripheral vision was fixed on the guards falling one after another around him. Watching those familiar faces die in agony, the resentment in his heart burned like a raging fire doused with boiling oil, almost swallowing his reason.

"Charge...charge into the treehouse..."

Yang Di gasped for breath, his voice hoarse like a broken gong, each word seeming to be squeezed out from between his teeth: "Never mind... Zhang Bo...take him away..."

He glanced at Zhang Bo, whose arms were tied behind his back and who was being pushed around unsteadily, his eyes filled with only cold resolve.

At this moment, Zhang Bo is less a hostage and more a possible lifeline that Yang Di desperately tries to grasp, or a piece of evidence and sacrifice that needs to be brought to the final battlefield.

As for the fate of negotiation experts like Sun Zhiru, Yang Di didn't even spare a glance.

Zhang Song gritted his teeth, trying to remain calm, and supported Yang Di while urging the still-movable spirit to move.

But the seriousness in his eyes was almost tangible; the Kujit's mounted archery was too tricky, too dense, and too deadly!
These elite elven warriors, skilled in close-quarters assassination, were utterly powerless against the barrage of ranged fire.

Every "plop" sound of flesh being pierced was like an hourglass counting down their lives.

The scattered Wood Elf resistance fighters who had managed to gather together during the retreat had long since perished in the rain of arrows.

Now only the dozen or so Wood Elf sword dancers who initially surrounded them remain, but under the Khergit's relentless onslaught of mounted archery, more than half have withered away like candles in the wind.

Yang Di bit his lip until it bled, as he could clearly sense the immense dimensional power calling from the depths of the large treehouse ahead.

That is power!

It's the fire of revenge!
It is a world-destroying weapon capable of crushing Shen Mu's cavalry!
Just a few steps away!

But the Khergit horse archers' cold eyes and whistling arrows were cruelly turning those few steps into a chasm between life and death.

The end of the Green Leaf Group is slowly approaching, accompanied by the final lamentations of its guards.

This was Yang Di's most desperate moment!
Zhang Song's heart sank to the bottom.

Looking at Yang Di's distorted face and frantic eyes, it was clear that the reason of this boss, who had once given him trust and cultivation and whom he regarded as his "godfather," had been completely devoured by despair and the instinct for survival.

The Khergit horse archers' deadly arrows whistled in from the flanks, each twang accompanied by the muffled groan or scream of a guard falling to the ground.

The short distance leading to the treehouse now felt like a death corridor.

Someone has to cover the rear!

This cold-blooded idea took shape in Zhang Song's mind.

Sacrificing the ministers and the last remaining wood elves to buy Yang Di a few seconds to escape into the treehouse and activate his "trump card"—this was the only option he could think of that still offered a sliver of hope.

“You…” Zhang Song turned his head, his cold gaze sweeping over the panicked management minister and several equally wounded and desperate wood elf sword dancers behind him, preparing to issue that cruel order.

The moment he opened his mouth—

"Pfft!"

A sharp, piercing pain suddenly exploded in my thigh!

Zhang Song was jolted and looked down in disbelief. He saw a familiar short knife deeply embedded in his right thigh, and blood gushed out instantly, staining his clothes red.

The one gripping the knife hilt was Yang Di, who was being supported by Zhang Song and appeared to be going crazy!

"Ah Song!"

Yang Di gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force. His voice was hoarse, filled with an inhuman fervor: "Block them for me! Stop those damned horse archers!"

His bloodshot eyes stared at Zhang Song, filled with coercion and pleading: "You...you have to stay! Lead them...hold on!"

He was breathing heavily, his words broken yet clearly conveying the coldest intentions: "For Green Leaf Group... no! For me! To repay my debt! Back then... if it weren't for me, you wouldn't be where you are today!"

The excruciating pain made Zhang Song's vision go black, and his body involuntarily slumped to one side.

He braced himself with his hands on the ground to avoid falling completely.

The cold blade on his leg and the scalding blood created a stark contrast, but even colder was the naked, resolute determination in Yang Di's eyes, as if he were a pawn to be discarded.

Zhang Song, who was just planning to sacrifice others to protect Yang Di, now became the "price" himself.

The Minister of Management and the Wood Elves were stunned by this sudden scene and froze on the spot. Looking at Zhang Song, who was stabbed and kneeling on the ground, and then at Yang Di, who was almost insane, their despair deepened.

The only background noise at this moment was the sound of Kujit horses' hooves and arrows whistling through the air, like a noose that was tightening ever more.

The kindness shown to me in the past has now turned into a knife plunged into my thigh.

Yang Di used the most direct and cruel method to order him to repay with his own life.

Zhang Song raised his head and looked at the stumbling figure pushing away those who were helping him, dragging his injured leg alone towards the dark entrance of the treehouse. A mixture of excruciating pain, absurdity, betrayal, and a kind of sorrowful realization spread through his heart.

The end has come for Greenleaf Group, or rather, for Yangdi.

Zhang Song, his escape route pierced by the very person he wanted to sacrifice, was destined to draw the final, scarlet period to this "kindness" in this burning village. (End of Chapter)