The Follower's Path to Legend, the Kingdom's Reverence

Baron Ryan had sent the Stag Attendants eastward. They had been operating on lands under the Northern Military Council's control for nearly half a month.

In the name of war, this fully armored cavalry legion, with almost no flesh exposed, had become something countless people feared to even mention.

Brandt had killed far more than just orcs.

On the plains, summer gradually drew near. The rivers of the land no longer froze, and their flowing waters brought vigorous life.

Snort!

The warhorse shook its muzzle. The blood and flesh smeared across its metal faceplate made it deeply uncomfortable, and the surrounding environment had grown much hotter. As a Northern Warhorse, even the blood in its body was colder than the outside air. It hated such sweltering conditions.

The warhorse plunged its entire head into the cool river, washing the bloodstains from its head with the current. On its back, the knight dismounted, grabbed the reins, and pulled the horse's head out of the water.

A Blood Hawk circled overhead. The scouts had already thoroughly searched the vast surrounding lands. No enemies would appear.

Thus, the knights removed the horses' armor and scooped up water to wash away the thick bloodstains on their bodies. Throughout the process, the warhorses did not neigh, nor did the Stag Attendants exchange a single word. They silently completed the cleansing.

Of course, it was not because the knights were cold-hearted. It was because not far away, a towering tide of blood and vitality surged into the heavens. That crimson source of a knight's power had nearly stained the entire plain red.

The source of it all was Brandt.

The second most important figure of Frozen Earth Territory, the Legion Commander of the Stag Legion, Brandt the peak Saint Realm knight.

Over the past half