Expedition

Crunch, crunch!

Robb's boots pressed down on the withered weeds, producing faint, brittle sounds.

He was leading Theon's squad through a forest filled with towering trees, their thick foliage layering to block the sunlight, with only the occasional beam piercing through the leafy canopy to offer some light.

Not far from Robb and his men, behind a tree wrapped in tangled vines, a rusted iron arrowhead slowly emerged from the creepers, like a venomous snake, fixed on Robb's group.

Hidden within that mass of vines was a Wildling archer, his body draped in green leaves for camouflage.

The Wildling archer watched this band of Southerners clad in various armors, judging in his mind who among them was the leader.

At this distance, he would have to loose one arrow and flee immediately, or else there was a high chance they'd catch up.

"Grrr...!"

The Wildling archer, straining to draw his bow, suddenly heard a threatening beastly growl beside him.

As he turned his head, frozen stiff with shock, toward the direction of the growl, a gray figure had already pounced before his eyes.

"Ah! Ah!!!"

Hearing the screams, a smile curled at the corner of Robb's mouth—the fish had finally taken the bait.

"Blood Wind, leave him alive!"

Robb shouted toward the direction of the screams, while giving Theon a meaningful glance.

Theon nodded, and within a few minutes, he and a squad member dragged back a Wildling who had lost one hand.

Blood Wind, his face covered in blood, trotted back with a bloody palm in his mouth. As soon as he saw Robb, he bounded over to him in a show of seeking praise, wanting to share the trophy.

"Mm, Blood Wind, thanks, but I don't eat that. Take your snack and go eat it somewhere else!"

Robb, without a hint of disgust, patted Blood Wind's blood-soaked head, shooing him aside, then turned to the still-screaming Wildling and said, "Stop yelling. Either tell me where your camp is, or let my Direwolf digest you bit by bit."

As it turned out, not every Wildling had the backbone of their king, who would rather burn to death than surrender.

Once he had the direction of the Wildling camp, Robb immediately led Theon's squad to rendezvous with the escort force following close behind.

"Still not back yet?"

Osha, resting a self-made spear across her knees, tapped her right foot restlessly in irritation.

"Mm, Iron Tooth and Bone Crusher haven't returned. By the usual time, at least one of them should have come back to report."

A Wildling beside Osha shook his head and said.

"Something's wrong... Everyone! Grab your things, we're moving deeper into the forest now."

Hearing this, Osha stood up at once and shouted to the Wildlings sprawled around lazily.

"Two lookouts haven't come back, and you want to just abandon this place? Those Southerners dare to come in, I'll—"

Whoosh!

The bearded Wildling warrior, who had been gripping a handaxe and standing up to speak loudly to Osha, had a gleaming arrow pierce his right eye, silencing him forever.

"Southerners are here! Grab your weapons and fight!"

"Smash these damned Southerners' heads in!"

"Kill!"

The Wildlings in the camp were stunned for a moment, then roared in fury, grabbing their weapons and surging toward the direction of the attackers.

At the first sign of the ambush, Osha ducked behind a tent and observed the attackers.

When she saw it was a group of armored Southerners, she didn't hesitate to quietly retreat backward.

"Everyone! Form spear formation by squad, squad leader at the tip! Charge!!!"

Watching the Wildlings charge forward in a chaotic but ferocious wave, Robb immediately barked out his orders.

All thirty-two soldiers of the escort force, including Robb, quickly formed a spear formation and charged head-on toward the Wildlings.

The two sides were not far apart to begin with, and in an instant, they clashed.

Riiip!

Clang!

Robb, leading Theon's squad at the very front, naturally met the foremost Wildlings first.

With one cleaving strike, he cut the Wildling's neck like a burst faucet, while the enemy's axe slammed heavily into his chainmail.

Protected by the high-quality Winterfell standard chainmail, the Wildling's crude axe failed to wound Robb, but the force of the impact still left him winded.

Just then, a red mist rose from the fallen Wildling's body and seeped into his own.

Roar!... Crack!

As a Wildling tried to ambush Robb while he was still dazed from the axe's shock, Blood Wind, sticking close to his side, lunged suddenly, his wolf jaws filled with sharp fangs snapping precisely through the Wildling's neck bones.

Kill!

As the red mist entered his body, Robb felt the strange sensation vanish instantly, while a surge of power welled up endlessly.

With Blood Wind aiding him at his side, Robb's emotions grew excited and fervent, as if possessed by a war god, driving him to simply slash forward.

Though his emotions were stirred to a fever pitch, his reason remained intact.

The blood-soaked longsword in Robb's hand only used chopping and slashing moves, never thrusting.

He knew well that in such a charge, if he thrust the sword with full force into an enemy's body, he'd need the same effort to pull it out.

Not to mention the drain on stamina—the mere time lost would be enough for the enemy's comrades to kill him while he was unarmed.

Thus, no Wildling warrior standing before Robb ever got a second chance.

Any enemy he could kill in an instant was already lying on the ground.

Those he couldn't dispatch in one blow were taken over by Blood Wind, along with Theon and the other comrades behind him.

The performance of Robb's spearhead squad was noted by the captains of the other five teams.

Their recognition of Robb deepened, and they fought all the more fiercely for him.

On the battlefields of Westeros, heroism thrived. A fearless commander, charging ahead and acknowledged by his men, did more than just boost morale by a simple +1.

As long as he hadn't fallen or surrendered, his warriors would fight to the death, never routing automatically from casualties.

In the original 'Battle of the Bastards,' Jon's side was trapped in a dire encirclement, yet no one surrendered as long as he lived.

And when Jaime led the combined forces of House Lannister and House Tarly, they recklessly fought against dragons and Dothraki cavalry, only laying down arms after Jaime fell into the river and was lost, with over half their army dead.

Back to the matter at hand!

In the Wolfswood, the two sides clashed: one with fine weapons and armor, in tight formation; the other with no protection and inferior arms, relying solely on ferocity, lacking any formation.

So, from above the Wolfswood, Robb's force looked like five knives stabbing straight into a slab of butter.

When the knives shifted from stabbing to hacking, they instantly shattered the cake into pieces.

Thud!

Robb, his face entirely obscured by thick, sticky blood, beheaded the foe before him with a single stroke.

Just as he prepared to meet the next enemy, he found himself standing in the enemy's empty camp, with Blood Wind still close at his side. Now, however, Blood Wind was also drenched in gore—truly living up to his name.

Robb turned to look back. The ground behind him was littered with Wildling corpses, blood staining the entire green grass red.

On the battlefield, a few Wildlings still tangled with the guards, but moments later, they were cut down by other men who had freed up.

The conspicuously large Little Jon, bathed in blood, held a Wildling head in each hand, roaring 'Ahhh' to the sky.

Huff!

Robb took a deep breath of the sweet, metallic air, beginning to calm his restless, fervent emotions.

With a flood of Blood Contract Points gained and the red mist merging into his body, Robb once again felt that sense of power in his grasp, as if all mortals were but ants.

"Robb, we've killed forty-eight enemies. Six of our brothers are lightly wounded, none dead."

Theon, his face smeared with blood so thick it was hard to recognize, had fully adapted to his role. As soon as the fight ended, he automatically tallied the casualties.

"Theon, you've worked hard."

Forcing down the turmoil within him, Robb pulled a faint smile and nodded at Theon.

Woo!!!

Rustle, rustle!

Blood Wind suddenly growled at the bushes behind Robb, sending a warning signal to his mind.

The bushes were cut down with a single sword stroke. Jory, following Robb's orders to surround the camp with Winterfell soldiers in advance to catch any escapees, stepped out, escorting a female Wildling.