What is a divine weapon descending from the sky?

The flames burned fiercely, turning the siege ladders into fiery serpents. Flames leaped up more than a person's height, making it impossible for ordinary people to get close, let alone walk across.

Yet, the pirates seemed undeterred by the flames, charging straight into them, only to fall from the ramp one by one, burned into human torches.

This spectacle was beyond the comprehension of those raw recruits!

The scorching heat waves reddened faces and made eyes impossible to open. The nauseating smell of burning flesh assaulted their brains, and the contorted figures that fell from the ramp, burned alive…

The scene formed a vivid, three-dimensional picture that chilled people to the bone, like an ice knife plunged directly into one's heart, causing unspeakable trembling and fear.

The veterans of the Northern Legion were relatively better off, their faces merely grim. The heavy cavalry from Tervain Village, every single one of them, bent over and vomited.

Fortunately, the fire attack was very effective. Although these warriors charging the ramp seemed fearless of death, they were ultimately useless.

"Don't think they're only capable of this. Don't let your guard down; the real battle hasn't even begun. These are just slaves."

Indeed, Old Adam wasn't fighting the County of Tervain for the first time; he was well aware of the pirates' tactics.

The pirates' most profitable ventures weren't sea transport or raiding; it was the slave trade.

When engaging the enemy, they always sent slaves first. These slaves had their voices muted with drugs, their pain receptors dulled, and their minds numbed. They knew only to obey orders and charge to their deaths.

These people would clear all traps and break through all defenses for the Tervain people, giving them a clear path to advance, brandish their curved swords, and destroy all that was beautiful in others' lives.

Although the burning of the oil was fierce, it couldn't last. The wooden siege engines, specially treated for fire resistance, burned brightly but were quickly extinguished.

Moreover, after the fire died down, the overall structure and stress points were not overly damaged. They had not lost their ability to support the siege.

Some slaves remained in the siege ladders. Taking advantage of the fire's demise, they swarmed forward in a dark mass.

"Spears! Hold!"

"Don't stick your heads out; those damn pirates are deadly accurate with their arrows!"

The veterans had ample experience. They shouted, raised their spears, let the heavy cavalry pass behind them, and thrust them through the gaps in the parapets, stabbing at the slaves rushing towards the city walls.

Because each opening in the parapet was designed with an internal flare, smaller on the outside and with a large chamfer inside to facilitate sideways movement for firing, Each embrasure on the parapet offered nearly 170 degrees of attack angle. However, it was impossible for attackers from below to shoot arrows through the embrasure and hit the defenders hiding behind the wall.

Therefore, as long as these veterans didn't expose themselves, they theoretically wouldn't get hurt.

The spears easily pierced the slaves, who wore only loincloths. These numb slaves, injured and falling in their stupor, uttered only muffled groans from their throats, leaving no other words in this world.

"Pirates are coming up! Prepare the oil to meet them!"

After the slaves were used up, pirates clad in leather or chainmail, carrying large, meter-wide, skin-covered round shields, charged up the ramp.

"It's quite intense," Ergons said to Priest Bolton. "Looks like it'll hold for a while. We need to hurry. Have you truly decided if you're ready to be the one who reveals himself before the masses?"

Priest Ramses Bolton nodded, his gaze resolute. "I have, of course. I also understand what it means for someone who can truly wield the Holy Light to appear in the current environment. The path ahead is bound to be thorny, but I am willing to dedicate everything for the Holy Light."

A faint glow seemed to emanate from the priest's face. He called out to Servant, the village chief, and spoke loudly to all the surrounding villagers: "We are about to depart from here, and the way we leave will be unlike anything you have ever witnessed in your lives. I must confess to you that it is because Sir Tervalin's absolute devotion to the Holy Light that he has moved the Holy Light to grant us this assistance. Do not spread word of what happens today, or you will be punished by the judgment of light.

This matter will be overseen by Chief Housen."

"Is what he's saying true?" a court knight beside the Baron asked instinctively.

No one could answer his question.

They were given half an hour to allow those below to pack everything thoroughly, but these high nobles waited in suspicion and doubt.

Such seemingly absurd words could not be spoken lightly. If they were said and not fulfilled, the consequences would be dire.

If they were fulfilled, the consequences would also be immense.

The priest repeated the same warning to all the nobles and soldiers. Then, after confirming everything was ready, the priest made a perfunctory gesture with his arm.

Fwoosh!

A burst of golden light emanated from the north gate. The dazzling light was almost brighter than the sun. The surrounding villagers, startled by the sudden event, immediately fell into a panic.

But when their vision cleared, the great army before them had vanished.

"My heavens! Holy Light above!"

The village chief was stunned, the villagers were dumbfounded. After some village woman shouted this, everyone knelt on the ground, bowing deeply towards the empty space, not daring to look directly.

Fwoosh!

Behind the besieging camp, the golden light, much dimmer than when they departed, shattered the morning mist. In an instant, they had traveled from Tewain Village to Tervain Village.

From the Baron down to the laborers, everyone understood that they had been teleported in that golden light.

Those who recognized Tervain Village's fortified settlement widened their eyes in astonishment. They tried to speak, but felt as if something was blocking their throats, rendering them speechless.

Ergons quickly stepped forward, stopping them from making a commotion. "Uncle, we have now arrived at the scene of the siege.

The enemy outnumbers us several times over. What do we do now?"

The Baron, recovering slightly from his shock, knew this was a critical moment. He suppressed the soldiers who were about to cry out to the priest and then cast a contemptuous glance at the enemy camp before him.

"Pirates, a bunch of poor islanders who need inside help to prepare weapons, armor, and supplies to invade another country. What can they possibly have?"

This statement set the tone for what seemed like a "grand" battle.

"All knights, mount your horses and prepare to charge the enemy's fighting force. Infantry and auxiliary troops, prepare to take over enemy baggage and captives!"

An extremely arrogant attitude and complete disdain for the enemy. Although it seemed absurd, it could ignite the knights' sense of honor.

Ergons quickly calculated: he had 12 men, plus 7 sealed Knights, and 17 Baron's court Knights. If the Baron himself joined the fray, they would have a full 37 Knights.

An impact charge from 37 Knights was absolutely something over three hundred attacking infantry couldn't withstand.

"You dare attack my village? It's time I showed you what 'divine intervention' looks like."

All Knights mounted their horses. Led by the Baron, they began a slow trot, gradually increasing their pace.

The entire supporting infantry, totaling 133 men, also put down their heavy gear under the leadership of three stewards, holding spears and steadily advancing behind the cavalry.

The horses trotted slowly. They were still several hundred meters from the encircling enemy camp. No need to rush the acceleration. The camp was a full three miles from the manor's thick wooden walls; even if the heavens opened up here, they might not hear it over there.

The Baron immediately recognized the flag flying in the camp. It bore the emblem of two crossed pirate cutlasses, belonging to the Swedish family.

The silver pattern represented a branch family, while gold was the color of the main family. He now knew who had come.

"That Viscount of Tervain, that faggot! If I catch him again, I'll arrange for five hundred farmers to take turns pounding him. That filthy pirate!"

With that, he spurred his horse, and the Knights accelerated, charging faster and faster towards the siege camp!

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