Today

When Derek led his army charging through, the remaining Barbarian soldiers also collapsed.

Lone Wolf Enrique could no longer restrain his soldiers and was even swept along with them as they fled.

The Locke people pursued without mercy.

Ironwall City was indeed too close. After a day of running and stopping, they caught sight of Ironwall City's southern gate.

As dusk fell, the first batch of routed soldiers arrived.

Before the Barbarian army stationed there could react, Derek, coming from behind, charged straight into the camp.

Though they had rested briefly over the course of the day, the soldiers were already exhausted.

But the Barbarians were no better off. After confronting each other all day and even launching several probing attacks, they had also spent no small amount of strength.

Most importantly, they had not been prepared in the slightest.

The morning's news had still been that the Locke people's lightly equipped force was surrounded. Although Lone Wolf Enrique had suffered losses, he had trapped them tightly.

Everyone had even believed they would break through today.

As for the Locke people's main relief force, it was still two or three days away and posed no threat at all.

No one had expected enemies to charge into their camp.

Caught by surprise, they were naturally unprepared.

When both sides were exhausted, that tiny lapse in preparedness became the straw that broke the camel's back.

And the difference between elites and ordinary soldiers now became clear. The troops Derek had rigorously trained possessed willpower and discipline several levels above the rest.

"Push forward! Push forward!"

The junior officers shouted madly, and the flag signals were completely useless.

On this chaotic battlefield, with darkness all around, they could only see the narrow space directly ahead and to either side.

The soldiers' fear would be magnified, and the chaos would spread.

Thus, the importance of junior officers rose sharply.

Day after day of training, combined with the panel's powerful enhancements, had made these junior officers' wills as hard as steel.

Even knowing they were deep in an enemy camp, surrounded by enemies as far as the eye could see, they did not waver in the slightest.

They only knew to carry out their orders. Lord Derek would naturally handle everything else.

Push forward!

Kill the enemy!

Then resolve everything.

Like arrowheads, they pierced through the Barbarians' feeble resistance.

From the sky, one would have seen squads of Locke soldiers advancing and charging continuously in simple formations.

When they encountered enemies gathered together, Banner Captains and even centurions would nimbly take command, temporarily directing troops to scatter the resistance.

Nearly every officer had been trained in such tactical skills. They were ingrained in their bones.

It might not have been noticeable just once, but as it happened over and over, the Barbarians were repeatedly scattered. They seemed utterly panicked, unable to organize even the slightest resistance.

Like a snowball rolling downhill, the momentum swiftly grew and swept everything aside until it became unstoppable.

At last, the Cavalry raced about everywhere, using torches to set the camp ablaze.

The burning camp further intensified the chaos.

The Barbarian routed soldiers who had only just fled back to camp and then suffered another heavy blow no longer had the strength to keep running.

But the Barbarian soldiers in the southern camp wished they could grow two more legs.

The Barbarian commander naturally noticed the chaos in the southern camp.

But the rout had come too quickly. By the time the messenger he had sent to inquire set off, the routed soldiers had already reached the gate.

Derek gathered part of his soldiers and slowly drove the routed troops onward from behind.

Though everyone was exhausted, they still maintained the posture of an attack.

All warfare was based on deception. If they gave up the pressure now, they would instead give the Barbarian main camp an opportunity.

A relentlessly aggressive stance, on the other hand, made the enemy more wary.

Sure enough, with no understanding of the situation and night already fallen, the Barbarians did not dare rashly sally out.

"Make the routed soldiers take a detour and go around behind the camp." The Barbarian commander stood atop the watchtower. In the darkness, the scattered torchlight did not reveal the attacking enemy, but the fact that they could fight at night and still maintain neat ranks showed that they were elites among elites. Seeing the routed soldiers below the camp shouting and cursing in chaos, he swung his arm sharply. "Shoot arrows. Make them go around, or kill them all."

At a time like this, caution was necessary.

If they let the routed soldiers in on their own, the enemy might use them to storm the camp, and then the trouble would be enormous.

He would rather shoot down a batch of routed soldiers as a warning than take the risk.

When arrows from their own side rained down, whether the Barbarian soldiers cursed or wept, they could only obediently take the long way around.

It was cruel, certainly, but it was the rational choice.

Derek tilted his head and saw Simon practically itching for a fight, as though he knew no fatigue.

"Simon, ride around the Barbarian camp and show them some swagger. Dare to do it?"

"I dare. I'll go right now."

Simon directly lowered his visor. It was even harder to see clearly at night with the thing down.

"A squad, come with me."

The knights howled as they rode off, charging toward the camp in a display of might.

From the look of it, they seemed ready to attack the camp itself.

Though everyone knew that was impossible, given the current situation and Simon's imposing aura, they could not help making the connection.

Simon tore down the Triangular Flag and waved it in his hand.

He galloped at full speed, then wheeled around as he neared the camp.

His target was naturally the routed soldiers. These men, who had lost both morale and weapons, were naturally the best prey.

Within the Barbarians' range, Simon led the Cavalry back and forth, trampling and cutting down the enemy with such outrageous arrogance that it was hard to watch.

Even the Barbarians themselves were dumbfounded and forgot to fire their arrows.

"Shoot! Shoot them dead!"

The Barbarian commander's roar jolted everyone awake. He leaned forward, gripping the railing tightly, his face pale even in the firelight.

It was too arrogant, too humiliating.

The Barbarian archers, as though waking from a dream, loosed a sparse rain of arrows. Simon's iron armor knocked away several, while a few lodged and trembled in the plates protecting his joints.

Seeing that it was about enough, he threw back his head and laughed, reining his horse around.

"Barbarians, it's dark now. Wait for your grandpa to come dote on you tomorrow."

When Simon returned, everyone was exhausted, but their spirits were at an incredible high.

How many times in life could one feel such exhilaration?

Derek took a deep breath. He knew that after today, he would obtain what he wanted.

The times created heroes. This time, it was his turn to be one.

To make his name known across the land—what better day could there be?

Today, at this very moment.

"Move!"

With Barbarian heads impaled on their spears, they circled beneath Ironwall City and raised the Triangular Flag high.

"The Tenth Chiliarch Unit of the Northern Province Second Legion has arrived! Do not panic, everyone. Tomorrow, watch as we trample the Barbarian camp beneath our horses' hooves!"

Derek and his men shouted together, causing a commotion along Ironwall City's walls, where people had already been drawn by the disturbance outside.

The Governor of Northern Province was on the city wall at that moment. From afar, he could see flames soaring into the sky. The Barbarians' southern camp was finished.

The other Barbarian camps remained tightly shut, while his subordinates kept talking about Simon's magnificent ride around the enemy camp.

"Northern Province has knights like this?"

He had long heard that Northland Knights were unmatched in the kingdom. He had thought it was merely because they were competing with the worst, since the Royal Capital's knights were terrible enough already.

Count Jefferies had even been beheaded by the Barbarians before, yet no Northland Knight had stepped forward to turn the tide.

Who would have thought that he himself had been so shortsighted? Could such a fierce knight truly be unworthy of the name Northland Knight?