Lone Rider Breaks the Army! Peerless Fierce General! Bonus Chapter for Alliance Leader Luo Li Zeppelin!

A 5,000-word bonus chapter. Congratulations to the Alliance Leader, Little Rich Girl Luo Li Zeppelin!

"Go!"

Duncan spurred his horse into a mad gallop. Though the others did not know why, they all followed.

A heavy stench of blood washed over them.

By the time Duncan and his group arrived, nearly a hundred corpses already lay on the battlefield. Unable to break through the wagon fort and unwilling to leave just like that, the Exile Rebels could only surround their enemies in the middle of the road.

The privately hired mercenaries inside the wagon fort showed no fear whatsoever.

One leader-looking man even had the leisure to order his soldiers to prepare wine, meat, and food. They had been trapped here for several hours, and after all that fighting, the soldiers needed food to restore their strength. Besides, with the convoy trapped here, the nearby towns and estates would surely react. Reinforcements would arrive soon enough, and as few as twenty or thirty cavalrymen would be enough for them to charge out and easily crush these remnants of the rebellion.

Two or three hundred Exile Rebels could only watch as those hired mercenaries stuffed themselves with meat!

The gaunt, sallow-faced exiles nearby could not help swallowing. Some even quietly crept forward, hoping to reach the edge of the wagon fort where the bodies were piled up and pick up the grain scattered across the ground to eat.

Whoosh!

A Barbarian Mercenary drew a powerful bow and aimed at the exile. One arrow pierced straight through his chest. Bloody froth spilled from his mouth as he collapsed, with more breath leaving him than entering.

"Hahaha!"

"These lowborn rabble who dared rebel!"

The barbarian soldiers inside the wagon fort burst into laughter, their morale visibly high.

The Exile Rebels, in contrast, looked reluctant and despondent. Their morale was abysmal. If they had not truly run out of options, they would have fled long ago.

Their only advantage was their numbers.

But during their last assault on the wagon fort, the Barbarian Mercenary leader had actually dared to lead more than ten men out to fight beside it. In one charge, they had hacked down over thirty of the rebels, then calmly withdrawn back into the wagon fort under cover from the archers and crossbowmen.

That savage, fearless display made it clear that he did not take them seriously at all.

The Exile Rebels had three leaders. One had been killed by an elite Forest Archer, another had been hacked to death while climbing the wagon fort, and now only one remained: a middle-aged man in his thirties. His face was waxen and haggard, and judging by his clothes, he seemed to be a down-and-out military household farmer with Gaulish features.

He wanted to retreat now, but if they did, many of these people would starve to death. Most would not even last until winter.

Even if they somehow endured until winter, without food or supplies, they would still die.

"Gather everyone with armor and come with me!"

Kevito gritted his teeth and said to his fellow townsmen, "We'll force our way through one more time! If enemy reinforcements arrive, we'll have even less of a chance."

He was preparing to risk everything.

If they could not break the wagon fort, all of them would die sooner or later. They would not survive even if they hid deep in the mountains and forests.

Two of the three leaders were dead. Blood rushed to his head, and now he only wanted to gamble his life on one desperate attempt!

All for the sake of survival.

Just then.

The sound of hoofbeats came from not far away. Kevito's expression changed, terror flashing across his face as he thought the enemy cavalry reinforcements had arrived. These Exile Rebels were all tenant farmers and slaves, with hardly any decent weapons or equipment. Even a force of light cavalry could rout them as easily as slaughtering chickens and dogs.

The Barbarian Mercenaries inside the wagon fort also looked delighted. As long as cavalry arrived, they could charge out, cut down the leader in battle, and the rebels would immediately be finished.

Five riders appeared at the distant crossroads.

The Barbarian Mercenaries looked disappointed. These clearly were not reinforcements, but rather a group of travelers passing through.

Five people, five horses.

Two men and three women. One carried a bow on his back and held a sword, projecting a fierce and formidable air. Another looked rugged, like a Gaulish savage. Of the other three women, two were exceptionally beautiful; even from afar, one could tell they were stunning.

The Exile Rebels around them began to stir, but their targets were all mounted, and they could not catch them anyway.

Kevito immediately ordered his men to hold back, then sent someone to shout at the five riders, telling them to go around from another direction.

For some reason, one of them made him feel vaguely uneasy. Not even the old gladiator who had taught him to fight in the past had ever filled him with such fear. Gladiatorial combat had long been banned within the Empire, but certain great nobles still secretly kept gladiators to fight to the death for amusement. Most gladiators were lowborn slaves, and sometimes they were used for gambling as well.

There were very few gladiators left in the Empire now. Those who remained were all secretly kept by nobles, who simply selected some slaves, trained them for a while, and made them fight for entertainment.

"You stay here!"

Duncan gave Raven Queen Triss a slight nod, then rode out alone toward the battlefield.

His face was cold and merciless, like that of an emotionless warrior. His imposing presence was truly intimidating, frightening the Exile Rebels so badly that they did not dare step forward and instead scattered to either side.

They were merely tenant farmers and slaves who could no longer survive. How much fighting ability could they possibly have?

If gladiators had not joined Spartacus's uprising, the Imperial Legion would have suppressed and massacred it in no time.

He nocked an arrow and drew his bow!

A forty-five-degree arcing shot.

Duncan did not approach the Exile Rebels too closely. He loosed an arrow, and a muffled groan came from above the wagon fort. At once, a Barbarian Mercenary clutched his throat and fell.

The hundreds of people present were stunned!

The Barbarian Mercenary leader turned pale in alarm and instantly grabbed a shield to protect himself. The Exile Rebels around him erupted into an uproar. Duncan's action left no doubt—he was a friend, not an enemy. Even Kevito could not help showing delight as he watched in disbelief while the lone rider once again nocked an arrow and drew his bow.

Parthian Shot!

Another man inside the wagon fort was shot in the head.

After all, it was only a wagon laager, not a city wall. There were gaps between the wagons, merely forming a defensive position. A Barbarian Mercenaries archer cautiously poked his head out, but before he could nock an arrow, a sharp arrow whistled through the air and blew apart his head.

"Sharpshooter?!"

The Barbarian Mercenaries went directly from "high morale" to "wavering morale."

Two arrows, two heads.

Even the Barbarian Mercenaries' finest Forest Archers could not manage that. Perhaps only the Legendary Eagle Shooters of Hun legend possessed such astonishing archery. (A Hun tribe only had one or two Eagle Shooters.)

The Exile Rebels erupted into an uproar. Some were eager to make a move, while those on either side stepped aside, not daring to hinder Duncan as he rode and shot across the battlefield.

Under God's Eye View.

All the Exile Rebels first bore yellow neutral markers, then changed into blue-marked units.

—Parthian Shot!

It seemed someone within the wagon laager still refused to give up. He peered out through a gap in the wagon frames, and the instant he showed his head, he was killed. An arrow struck at an incredibly tricky angle, piercing through his leather helmet.

He really was a Sharpshooter!

Now no one dared question it. The Barbarian Mercenaries did not dare show their heads at all, while the surrounding Exile Rebels' morale soared.

The enemy would not show themselves.

But even if they did not show themselves, Duncan had a way.

He rode over to a boy of fifteen or sixteen. The boy was dressed in tattered rags like a slave, with a brand on his arm. His ragged clothes could not conceal his back, which was covered in whip marks. Clutching a crude short spear, the boy trembled as he looked at Duncan, who had reined in before him.

"Give it to me." Duncan's tone brooked no refusal.

The blue-marked slave boy did not dare resist in the slightest and immediately handed the short spear to Duncan.

Duncan weighed it in his hand, then shouted toward the front, "Move aside!"

He urged his horse into a sudden burst of speed, startling the surrounding Exile Rebels into retreating in every direction. Then Duncan took a deep breath and hurled the short spear in his hand like a javelin.

"Ah!"

A scream came from within the wagon laager.

Duncan's thrown javelin pierced through an enemy, killing a Barbarian Mercenaries soldier packed inside.

Four kills!

The Exile Rebels had besieged the wagon laager several times without killing more than a few people, yet Duncan had ridden one circuit and slain four in succession. His combat prowess frightened the Barbarian Mercenaries into wavering morale, while the nearby Exile Rebels looked up at him in fear and awe, not daring to meet his gaze.

"Those on my left and right, heed my command!"

Duncan's shout was like thunder exploding on level ground, startling even Kevito in the distance into shuddering.

He had no doubt that, on this battlefield, that terrifyingly formidable Sharpshooter could kill anyone he wished. The man's presence reminded him of the human heroes from myth and legend, or the God-Favored Warriors celebrated in Barbarian tales.

With that shout!

Nearly one-third of the Exile Rebels turned into green-marked units, and the slave boy before Duncan instinctively followed at his side.

—Exile Rebels (Undisciplined) (Low Morale) (Poor Equipment) [Peasant Levy]!

Who in the world was this man?!

Kevito's mind was in chaos. That lone rider had entered the battlefield and begun helping them, his martial prowess astonishing and his valor unmatched. In an instant, he had turned the situation around, restoring the Exile Rebels' flagging morale and leaving the Barbarian Mercenaries uneasy and fearful.

Hooves thundered.

The Exile Rebels moved aside to either side. Duncan rode alone through the crowd and directly approached Kevito, making his companions tense up as well.

"Are you their leader?"

A deep male voice filled with pressure rang out, making Kevito feel as though breathing had become difficult.

Who exactly was this man?

Kevito gritted his teeth and raised his head to look at the man's face. The moment their eyes met, he seemed to see severed heads rolling across the ground and blood spreading over the earth.

How many people had this man killed?

Kevito endured for only a moment before being forced back by that sharp, merciless gaze. He lowered his head instinctively. "Yes, my lord."

Duncan said in a low voice, "Heed my command!"

"Lead the people around you in a frontal assault on the wagon laager from the right. The others will split into two groups and attack from the front and rear."

"Do you understand?!"

A furious roar!

Kevito shuddered all over and answered instinctively, "Yes! Commander!"

In an instant.

Under God's Eye View, all the Exile Rebels turned into green-marked units. Seeing Kevito obey the order, his subordinates immediately took up their weapons and shields of their own accord.

Not far away.

Four people, four horses.

Severus stared in utter astonishment. Witch-Anya's eyes were wide, her delicate body trembling slightly. No one knew what she was thinking; she merely stared fixedly at Duncan, who stood alone on horseback in the distance. Although Raven Queen-Triss had already witnessed Duncan's extraordinary abilities before, she too stood frozen in surprise, her beautiful eyes filled only with a radiant, dazzling light.

In just a few minutes, the Exile Rebels seemed to have become Duncan's subordinates, obeying his orders as they attacked the wagon fort from three sides.

Surround them on three sides, leave one side open!

Though they had no idea why Duncan had given such an order, the undisciplined Exile Rebels still obeyed. They noisily regrouped and launched a fierce assault on the wagon fort from three directions, leaving only one side untouched.

The wagon fort descended into chaos almost at once.

Kevito had no idea what was happening either. In a daze, he led his men forward and assaulted the wagon fort like before, but for some reason, the enemy's resistance this time was nowhere near as fierce. They did not even dare clash blades with them head-on.

Very soon, people had climbed over the wagon fort and begun fighting those inside in close combat.

No.

Who was that man?

Where was he? Why was he obeying that man's orders?

Kevito hacked a Barbarian Mercenary to the ground, his mind still muddled and foggy.

But the cheers of the Exile Rebels quickly rang out.

Kevito looked up and saw an arrow slicing through the air. Not far away, a Barbarian soldier wearing an iron helmet was shot dead. That was the enemy leader. The next second, the enemy began to collapse. Several burly Barbarian Mercenaries seized horses, trying to break out and flee through the undefended side.

Once they ran, the entire Barbarian Mercenary force fell into disarray.

Three sides of the wagon fort had fallen.

The remaining enemies all retreated toward the opening. In the blink of an eye, several were hacked down beneath a flurry of blades.

"We're winning already?" Kevito felt even more bewildered.

These Barbarian Mercenaries were well-equipped, their weapons and armor nearly on par with the Imperial Field Army. During the previous assaults, despite facing enemies several times their number, they had beaten the Exile Rebels until they wailed for their fathers and mothers. Other than leaving behind a heap of their comrades' corpses, the Rebels had posed virtually no threat to the enemy.

Yet this time, nearly half the enemy had been cut down outright. The rest had lost all morale and formed up defensively. Some tried to shove aside the wagons and break out, while the first men to seize horses and flee had already run several hundred meters away.

That man did not order a pursuit.

There was no way to catch them anyway. The Exile Rebels did not have a single rider.

He remained outside the battlefield, calmly shooting arrows. One arrow, one enemy. Every time he nocked an arrow and drew his bow, it brought a wave of cheers and shouts. The Exile Rebels' morale rose higher and higher.

At some point.

A long spear had appeared in Duncan's hand. He spurred his horse into a leap and charged straight into the enemy formation.

Lance Charge!

Lightning flashed and sparks flew as a lone rider shattered the formation!

Duncan thrust his spear, driving it straight through an enemy's body!

Then, with one hand, he lifted the Barbarian soldier—who weighed nearly seventy-five kilograms—into the air. The shaft was braced beneath his arm, veins bulging across his arm. With a thunderous roar, he raised the corpse above the horse's head!

The warhorse neighed!

The entire battlefield fell deathly silent.

The spear beneath Duncan's arm let out a cracking groan under the strain. By the time he flung the corpse from above his horse's head to the ground, the spear shaft had bent, the hardwood splitting apart. The weapon was nearly useless now.

In an instant, cheers and roars erupted like a landslide and tsunami!

The Exile Rebel soldiers of Barbarian descent threw back their heads and howled madly. Some even pounded their chests in frenzy, roaring as they rushed forward and hacked down the enemies whose faces were filled with terror and whose will to fight had completely vanished.

Barbarian rebels guarded Duncan on both sides with their bodies, like the Chieftain Guard of Ancient Rome. He drew Oathkeeper and cleaved an enemy shield apart with one slash.

Blood sprayed!

The enemy formation that had tried to hold itself together was breached in an instant.

By the time Kevito had chased after them for ages, stopped to catch his breath, and looked around the battlefield, Exile Rebels behind him were already carrying food and lighting fires to cook.

"No."

"Where am I? Who am I?"

Kevito's head buzzed. When he had just cut down a Barbarian Mercenary, the enemy had smashed him hard on the head with a shield. Though he had blocked many attacks as well, he was still dizzy and seeing stars.

Amid the crowd.

Duncan expressionlessly ordered the Exile Rebels to clean up the battlefield, then had them light fires and prepare food, letting this band of starving rebel refugees fill their bellies first.

The entire battle had taken barely a dozen minutes.

Raven Queen-Triss and the others watched as Duncan shattered the enemy army alone, intimidated the enemy leader, commanded those around him, surrounded the enemy on three sides while leaving one open, and crushed the Barbarian private mercenary corps in a single assault. Then the battle was over.

Severus's eyes were as wide as bells. Witch-Anya's face was flushed red as she trembled slightly atop her horse, squeezing her thighs together.

Raven Queen-Triss's delicate body trembled as well. She stared at Duncan in the distance for a long while without speaking.

"Did I just get usurped?"

Kevito's mind finally cleared a little. The Exile Rebels around him looked at that man with nothing but awe and reverence. Even Kevito's own subordinates had unconsciously gathered at that man's side, like a general's personal guard.

He had probably been usurped.

Kevito cut off an enemy's head out of old habit, then realized there was no need for it.

The crowd gradually parted.

Surrounded by the Exile Rebels, the man rode over and stopped in front of Kevito.

Their gazes met.

Instinctively, Kevito immediately snapped to attention, looking as though he were awaiting an inspection from his commander.

The man gave a slight nod and said in a deep voice, "Go eat."

"Afterward, take some men and haul the supplies back."

Kevito answered with full-throated vigor, "Yes!"

Only after the man rode away did he let out a long breath. He did not know why, but he had not even entertained the thought of resisting.

Nor had he dared to.

Just who was this man?

In barely ten minutes, he had seized control of Kevito's troops and commanded the Exile Rebels to crush the enemy. The way those exiles looked at him was practically like they were worshipping a god.

And Kevito himself was a little afraid.

He was terrifying!

Out of the more than three hundred Exile Rebels, only a dozen or so had killed anyone. That man had slain all the remaining enemies himself.

At the crossroads.

Duncan rode over at an unhurried pace, neither flushed nor out of breath. He gave Raven Queen Triss a slight nod and said softly, "The towns aren't safe either."

"We won't enter any cities along the way. We'll reach Britain by another route."

After saying that, he glanced at the exiles. "These people know the surrounding terrain. They can help us contact a fleet."

Raven Queen Triss was exceptionally clever and immediately understood what Duncan meant.

Her gaze swept over the exiles as she said softly, "You decide."

Duncan wanted to win them over.

Severus looked thoughtful, while Witch Anya stared fixedly at Duncan with her beautiful eyes. Unfortunately, Duncan did not spare her a second glance. Aside from looking at Raven Queen Triss at first, he quickly began directing the exiles to move the supplies.

Raven Queen Triss casually glanced at Anya. Her expression remained unchanged, but her eyes narrowed slightly.

Among the crowd.

Though they did not know who that man was, he was now the leader of these exiles!

This was an age of chaos.

The strong ruled!