Real Mount and Blade Game

Flames engulfed the distorted outline of the wood elf village, and the air was filled with the smells of charred wood, blood, and despair.

Shen Mu rode the tall, sacred tree steed, and under the strict protection of Fatis and a small squad of sacred tree knights, slowly stepped into the heart of the village, which had become a purgatory.

His gaze swept over the scattered wood elf warriors who were still putting up a few resistances, as if scrutinizing a flying insect caught in a spider web, struggling in vain.

On the open ground not far in front of Shen Mu, the last resistance was being mercilessly crushed.

A small group of wood elf sword dancers attempted to organize a defense using a half-collapsed treehouse structure. Their nimble figures flashed in the firelight, their scimitars drawing sharp arcs.

"Run over."

Shen Mu's voice was flat and emotionless, as if he were talking about the weather.

The command was transmitted instantly through some unknown means.

"charge!"

With a thunderous roar, Rezarit led the Swadian heavy cavalry in another charge, a torrent of steel.

The charging formation was as tight as a moving steel wall, with spears like a forest, gleaming with a cold, piercing light in the firelight.

"Sizzle—Pfft!"

The heavy impact, the cracking of bones, the dull thud of spears piercing bodies, and the dying screams of the wood elves mingled together.

Faced with absolute power, speed, and steel armor, skill becomes meaningless in an instant.

A wood elf swordsman attempting to leap and attack the knight was pierced by several spears while still in mid-air. Like a butterfly pinned to a display board, he instantly lost his life and was swept away by the charging knight, slammed heavily against the burning wooden wall behind him.

Another swordsman's scimitar struck the oncoming heavy chainmail armor, sending only a few sparks flying, before he was knocked away by a huge warhorse galloping by and trampled over before even hitting the ground.

Meanwhile, Khergit heavy horse archers circled like vultures, galloping a short distance away.

They coldly nocked their arrows and drew their bows, the arrows whistling through the air as they accurately struck any resister who tried to break free or was still standing.

As the rain of arrows fell, accompanied by the soft sound of throats being pierced and the muffled groans of hearts being struck, the last resistance circle attempting to form a battle line completely collapsed and disintegrated, vanishing into a sea of ​​fire under the trampling of heavy cavalry and the sharp arrows of the Khergits.

"To resist stubbornly will only increase casualties."

Shen Mu's tone carried a hint of pleasure and satisfaction, which could even be described as appreciation.

He nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping over the slaughterhouse he had personally ordered to be built.

The core of the Wood Elf Village's power has shattered, and its destruction is imminent. On the chessboard of Balihe, another disobedient piece has been lost.

Just then, the sound of horses' hooves came from the flank.

A squad of Khergit heavy mounted archers escorted a group of disheveled men through burning ruins and blood-soaked paths to Shen Mu's horse.

It was a dozen or so negotiation experts led by Sun Zhiru.

They were covered in dust and soot, looking utterly disheveled. Sun Zhiru kept his head down, his expression one of resigned numbness; he knew that any struggle would be futile.

However, when the young negotiation experts in the group saw Shen Mu sitting upright on his horse, and the majestic Holy Tree Knights surrounding him like gods descending to earth, the fear of being humiliated at the banquet and the sudden change was instantly overwhelmed by the anger of surviving the ordeal.

One of the more audacious experts could no longer contain himself. Pointing at Shen Mu, he roared in a trembling voice, "Lord Shen Mu! What is this?! Are you using us as bait? You sent us to the Green Leaf Group's negotiation banquet just to lower their guard so your army could launch a surprise attack?!"

"Exactly! This is so immoral!"

Another voice, brimming with courage, echoed sharply, "Have you considered this? If Yang Di and the others had become enraged, or if the negotiations hadn't gone smoothly at all, we could have been killed at any moment! You're using our lives as bargaining chips!"

We demand an explanation!

The group was filled with righteous indignation, seemingly forgetting their current predicament and the ruthlessness of the ruler before them.

Faced with these questions, which were filled with fear and anger, Shen Mu did not even lower his noble head to look them in the eye.

He merely twitched the corner of his mouth slightly, revealing a faint, cold arc that was by no means a smile, as if he had heard some childish and ridiculous remarks.

He continued to gaze toward the burning treehouse, his tone as indifferent as if stating a trivial fact:

“Those who achieve great things do not dwell on small details.”

He paused, his gaze finally shifting slowly to the angry experts. His deep eyes held no warmth, no apology, only a haughty indifference, almost as if looking down on ants: "Besides, aren't you all still alive?"

These words were like a cold awl, piercing through the negotiators' last remaining hope and their blustering anger.

not dead?

Is not dying enough to justify it?

Does their survival somehow justify his risky behavior?

This cold-blooded, pragmatic logic sent a chill down their spines.

Just as they were about to open their mouths, wanting to refute this logic—

"Clang... clang... clang..."

A faint yet chillingly clear metallic scraping sound rang out.

The voice came from the Holy Tree Knights guarding Shen Mu.

Several heavily armored Holy Tree Knights remained motionless on their horses, their eyes fixed straight ahead, seemingly oblivious to the commotion below.

But their right hands, which had been gripping the reins tightly, loosened their grip almost simultaneously with Shen Mu's words, and gently pressed their hands on the hilts of the swords hanging at their waists.

The hand gripping the sword was steady and powerful, as if he could draw the gleaming knight's longsword at any moment and cut down anyone who dared to offend the leader's authority.

A chilling killing intent, almost tangible, permeated the air, enveloping the negotiating experts who had just been questioning them.

Instantly, all the anger and questions were stuck in his throat.

They saw the Holy Tree Knight's icy, emotionless gaze sweep over them, a gaze devoid of any human warmth, containing only pure loyalty and scrutiny of the "obstacle."

It was as if, in their eyes, these noisy negotiation experts were no different from charred wooden stakes by the roadside.

The air suddenly froze, leaving only the crackling of distant fires and sporadic screams.

The negotiators, who had been blushing and shouting moments before, suddenly turned deathly pale, their faces draining of all color. Large beads of cold sweat instantly seeped from their foreheads.

Their bodies trembled uncontrollably, their lips quivered, but they could no longer utter a sound.

They remembered the souls of those who had been pierced by spears and shot by arrows on the battlefield.

Faced with absolute power and will, so-called moral questioning appears so pale, powerless, ridiculous, and dangerous.

An indescribable fear and despair overwhelmed them like icy water, leaving only a deathly silence.

"You've done very well. I'll reward you when we get back." Shen Mu glanced indifferently at the negotiation experts, quite pleased with their trembling, quail-like expressions. Sitting on his horse, Shen Mu looked at Sun Zhiru beside him, who hadn't said a word and seemed completely resigned to his fate, a slight smile playing on his lips.

That's why he chose to have Sun Zhiru come along.

Sun Zhiru is very obedient.

"Also, Sun Zhiru, you did a good job on this mission. You took some negotiation experts with you and formed your own team in the future. The blue-star humans of Deherim need management talents like you."

Shen Mu spoke calmly.

"clear."

Sun Zhiru lowered his head even further, his voice trembling slightly: "Thank you for your kindness, sir."

The ten negotiation experts behind him fell silent, bowing deeply in imitation of Sun Zhiru's gesture. Their pale faces no longer showed any dissatisfaction, only the fear of surviving a disaster and profound obedience.

Shen Mu's words were like a cold hammer, shattering their last bit of naive fantasy. "Go back and collect your reward" was the most merciful punishment. Any disobedience could invite the Holy Tree Knight's deadly chill that needed no words.

Shen Mu's gaze indifferently shifted away from the group of disheveled "chips," as if he were merely brushing away a speck of dust.

He slightly raised his chin, and Fatis understood. He spurred his horse, and together with the Holy Tree Knights, forming an impenetrable iron wall around Shen Mu, they slowly made their way towards the burning center of the village.

The footsteps were resounding, and the scraping of heavy armor sounded even heavier against the backdrop of crackling flames.

Following closely behind Shen Mu was a massive infantry phalanx led by Bandak.

They surged into the ruins like a silent tide, replacing the previously charging cavalry, and began to carry out the more ruthless and meticulous final mopping-up orders.

"Clear the area!"

"Inspect all the broken walls and ruins!"

"Slay the remaining enemies without mercy!"

Bandak's rough voice echoed through the thick smoke.

His gaze was sharp as a hawk's, and his command was decisive.

The village had been completely transformed into a slaughterhouse after the battlefield meat grinder. The few dying wood elves or the human warriors who had hidden themselves had nowhere to hide under the strict search of the Swadian light infantry and Swadian militia.

These low-ranking soldiers found their purpose at this moment—to drag out the surviving resistance fighters who were still breathing, scattered in corners and shadows of ruins.

"Target spotted! Under the tree roots at the three o'clock position!"

"One group surrounds! Two groups follow up!"

"Drink——!"

A wood elf archer, huddled behind charred tree roots, tried to draw his bow with his last strength, but several gleaming, holy tree spearmen's standard-issue spears stabbed out fiercely from different angles, instantly pinning him to death.

Under another half-collapsed wooden shed, a human from Earth desperately brandished a chipped elven dagger and lunged forward, only to be immediately surrounded by several burly Swadian militiamen who smashed him down with their maces, his brains splattering and his head covered in blood.

Screams, death screams, and the muffled thuds of weapons piercing flesh rose and fell amidst the crackling sounds of flames engulfing wood.

This was no longer a thunderous charge, but a ruthless crushing, designed to ensure that no "impurity" other than Deherim could resist on this land.

Shen Mu tacitly approved and even encouraged this kind of training—using the lives of the remaining enemy soldiers to instill a sense of valor in these basic troops.

And gain combat experience along the way.

Kill two birds with one stone.

How wonderful!

The sound of horses' hooves stopped at the edge of the relatively empty village square, which was once the core area of ​​the Green Leaf Group. Now, only the burning tall skeletons and ruins remain.

Shen Mu sat upright on the sacred tree horse, turned his head, and looked at the orderly yet bloody advance of the Bandak infantry line.

The firelight illuminated his young yet aloof face.

Watching his low-ranking soldiers mercilessly extinguish the enemy's last breaths under orders, watching his meticulously crafted war machine mesh and turn like the most precise gears, utterly shattering and obliterating everything called "Green Leaf Group"...

A faint, satisfied smile, befitting an absolute master, quietly appeared on his lips.

The village is burning, the resistance is being wiped out, and the will of Balihe will ultimately be left only with the mark of Deherim.

The group of Kujit archers had just led Sun Zhiru and his men away when the sound of horses' hooves rang out again.

Another squad emerged through the billowing smoke. The leading mounted archer dismounted and knelt on one knee to report: "Sir! During the clearing operation, we found a seriously wounded man who claims to be Zhang Song from the Green Leaf Group."

Shen Mu raised an eyebrow slightly.

He recognized the name—Yang Di's most trusted advisor, who was rumored to be a core strategist for the Green Leaf Group, along with Zhang Bo.

Fatis rode half a step closer and whispered, "This man was supposed to be traveling with Yang Di. He's now a pawn, but we might be able to use him."

"Let's go take a look." Shen Mu neither agreed nor disagreed, only raising his chin slightly.

The Khergit archers immediately led the way, and the iron hooves of the Holy Tree Knights silently parted the burning ruins.

As the thick smoke dissipated, a figure crawling on the ground was revealed.

The bandages on Zhang Song's abdomen, soaked in blood, were no longer recognizable as their original color. Although the incision on his left thigh had been hastily bandaged, dark red blood still seeped out with his weak breathing.

He was curled up among the scorched earth and broken arrowheads, like a broken doll that had been carelessly discarded. If it weren't for his chest still rising and falling, he would have been almost indistinguishable from the corpses around him.

Several Khergit horse archers stood on either side, their scimitars gleaming with undried blood in the firelight.

Shen Muller stopped his sacred tree horse, its towering back casting a cold shadow that completely enveloped the people on the ground.

The soft metallic clang of iron boots striking stirrups startled Zhang Song. He seemed to have exhausted all his strength, his neck straining upwards at an almost broken angle, his face, stained with ash and blood, exposed to the flickering firelight.

Those eyes that had once schemed and scrutinized Zhang Bo were now nothing but a murky gray, reflecting the sharp, angular features of the young lord on horseback—a face of equal youth, yet bathed in a completely different, dark golden glow belonging to a conqueror.

Their eyes met for only a moment.

Zhang Song's Adam's apple bobbed laboriously, and in the end, he could only manage a bitter, almost convulsive smile.

The strength supporting his head suddenly vanished, and he crashed heavily back to the ground, his forehead touching the cold, scorched earth. He was too weak to even move his fingers.

Dust stained with blood clung to his chapped lips.

Shen Mu looked down at the ruins that had once plotted the fate of the Green Leaf Group, his voice cutting through the crackling flames, clear and unwavering: "Yang Di abandoned you to save his own life, all for that tree?"

Zhang Song didn't look up, his voice as weak as the sobbing of wind through broken walls, yet every word was imbued with a tearing self-mockery and boundless absurdity: "...a knife in exchange for the life-saving grace of yesteryear...a knife in exchange for my 'foolish' act of serving him..." He coughed up blood, his words broken yet clear: "He's gone mad...I...have a clear conscience..."

The figure on horseback remained motionless. The Holy Tree Knight's cold, hard armor reflected the surrounding firelight, creating an insurmountable barrier between him and this dying land. (End of Chapter)