A Battle Decides

The war officially began.

Facing the offensive from Leon, King Giramurius of Ireland first dispatched warships to block the vanguard of Leon's forces.

However, they were shattered by a group of conscripted fishermen from Britain. Kay led the vanguard to successfully seize the bay and the docks, landing in Ireland and establishing a foothold.

Later, Ireland sent a force of fewer than ten thousand to destroy the stronghold, but they were defeated head-on by Kay. From that moment on, Leon's vanguard held a firm position in Ireland.

By the time Leon arrived with his main army, Kay had already reinforced the camp and established comprehensive defensive fortifications.

"Well done."

Leon felt that his judgment had been correct; Kay had completed the preparatory work beautifully. Now that he had set foot on the island, it meant that Ireland had completely lost any chance of victory.

With the assistance of Merlin, Leon clearly understood the troop deployments of the Irish side.

After a brief rest for his troops, Leon ordered Joe to lead a thousand-man unit to secure the maritime logistics, and Canning to lead another thousand-man unit to guard the camp. He personally led the remaining forces to engage King Giramurius's grand army head-on.

As for the Irish side, the series of setbacks since the start of the war had cast a shadow over the heart of their sovereign, leaving him almost devoid of hope for victory.

Yet, when he saw that the Lion King from Britain had dared to appear before his thirty-thousand-strong army with a mere two thousand men, a wave of wild joy surged in his heart.

With thirty thousand men on his side, they could drown the enemy with a single spit each. He immediately ordered a full-scale assault, intending to decide the outcome in one battle and completely crush the invaders from across the sea.

Looking at the boundless enemy forces before them, the morale of Leon's side wavered, yet it did not plummet; the will to fight remained.

The commander of our Great Britain is none other than the invincible Lion King!

The soldiers could still produce saliva in their mouths and could still hold their weapons firmly. The routine, targeted disciplinary training had taken effect; at this moment, the soldiers subconsciously fell into the battle formations they had practiced, calm and composed.

Having been tortured by administrative paperwork for half a year, Leon could no longer suppress the fervor in his heart at the sight of this scene. His rugged voice rang out to every soldier on the field.

"All forces, follow me and charge!"

Leon leaped from his chariot with a roar. Under the gaze of all his men, he charged toward the enemy's main formation. The hundred-man unit guarding the great banner followed closely behind, and the thousand-man elite guard unit, seeing the banner move forward, immediately followed suit.

Even though the guards were mounted, their speed could not match Leon's on foot. They watched as their King charged into the enemy ranks like a tiger into a flock of sheep, immediately tearing a massive gap in the enemy line.

Leon felt the smooth sensation of his spear piercing into the enemy's body and the satisfaction of his blade tearing through flesh. The blood and murderous aura of the battlefield washed over him, and Leon took a greedy, deep breath.

"Exhilarating."

This was what he wanted, what he had been longing for. Dealing with government affairs and coordinating state matters had been nothing short of hell for him.

Seeing Leon's immense valor, the morale of the guards behind him soared. They followed through the gap he had created, tearing the enemy formation in two.

Under Leon's deliberate slowing of his pace, the rear units finally caught up to converge. With Leon as the spearhead, this thousand-man unit wove through the enemy ranks at will, carving them into small, isolated pockets.

These thirty thousand Irishmen were not elites; they were a patchwork force gathered from various petty kings. Their equipment was crude; only the chieftains and leaders possessed armor, while others lacked even proper weapons, entering the battlefield with potato-digging hoes.

The entire army relied on individual bravery and lacked any discipline. Now, encountering the even more valiant Leon and the superior British army, they immediately revealed their true colors and exposed their weakness.

As Leon broke into the enemy formation, the remaining two thousand-man units followed the pre-battle plan: one blocked the majority of the enemy's retreat, while the other organized a pincer movement, expanding the results as Leon split the enemy ranks.

Facing Leon, who descended like a god, the morale of the Irish collapsed. Some suffered mental breakdowns and waited for death on the spot, others fled the battlefield using hands and feet, and some even wept and wailed as they faced the blades.

Witnessing such a tragedy, King Giramurius finally understood why the enemy dared to attack his thirty thousand with a mere two thousand.

The armies of the two sides were simply not on the same level, and with the addition of a Lion King who seemed more than human, the enemy was like a tiger with wings. There was no hope for his side to win.

Facing the impending defeat, he wanted to save the situation, but he was helpless; he could not even ensure his own survival.

A knight clad in purple armor was charging toward him, single-handedly.

'This battle is my first since following the Lion King; I must perform well!'

The Knight of the Lake kept his eyes locked on the Irish commander. He would slay the general and seize the banner on the battlefield to prove that he was worthy of the King's favor and to strike back at those who envied and mocked him.

As he charged through the formation, the enemy general's guards stepped up to block him, but none were a match for him. He cut them down cleanly, tearing a rift through the enemy ranks and reaching the enemy general in the blink of an eye.

King Giramurius did not even see his face before he was decapitated by a single sword strike.

Lancelot ignored the head of the enemy commander he had just severed. He immediately rushed to the great banner, cut down the surrounding enemies one by one, and then sliced through the flagpole with a single stroke.

"Your commander is dead! Surrender now!"

With Lancelot's feat of slaying the general and seizing the banner, the enemy fell into total collapse. Even those who had occasionally resisted were stunned by this scene and lost all hope.

"Drop your weapons! Surrender and you shall live!"

The enemy soldiers who had been cut off by Leon were completely devoid of morale. One by one, they discarded their weapons, stripped off their armor, and knelt to surrender.

The knights did not even have the time to manage them; they casually picked a leader from among them to oversee the captives, and after having them bind themselves, they continued to advance with the main force.

"Well done!"

Leon had also witnessed Lancelot's feat and could not help but cheer for this noble knight.

He had originally intended to slay the enemy commander himself, but he had not expected Lancelot to act alone and provide him with such a pleasant surprise.

He was truly a talent worth the time spent recruiting; his judgment had been correct indeed!

At this moment, Leon had not yet completely split the battlefield. A small portion of the enemy forces still retained simple organization and command systems. Upon seeing their supreme commander slain, they retreated repeatedly, attempting to flee the battlefield.

However, they did not expect that most of their retreat routes had been blocked by one of Leon's thousand-man units. Although some small paths remained, they were insufficient for so many people to escape.

They charged twice but failed to break through the blockade.

With tigers and wolves in front and no retreat behind, the majority of those who had witnessed Leon's divine might had long since lost their morale, sustained only by the desperate urge to survive.

As Leon had his men loudly call out terms of surrender, guaranteeing that those who yielded would be spared, the enemy soldiers lost all will to fight and immediately laid down their arms.

Leon accepted their surrender, ordered the battlefield to be cleared, and had the captives guarded while they awaited the arrival of the logistics troops.

"My King, Lancelot has fulfilled his mission."

Lancelot arrived carrying a severed head, ran up to Leon, and knelt on one knee to present the trophy.

"Hahaha, you are truly valiant, Qing. It is my great fortune to have you, truly great fortune."

Leon reached out to help Lancelot up, noticing the sincerity in his expression and the glint in his eyes.

"I am not even a ten-thousandth of my King. To be valued by my King is the greatest honor of Lancelot's life."

Ever since Leon had first taken notice of him, he had endured so much criticism from his peers. Especially after joining the campaign and following Leon closely, entering and exiting the commander's tent at will, he had invited even more jealousy, with some secretly mocking him in their spare time as a sycophant who rose through favoritism.

Although his own skills were solid and he feared no slander from his colleagues, he did not want his reputation to be so tarnished, nor did he want to implicate the Lion King in a charge of poor judgment.

By slaying the general and presenting his head today, he had ensured that those who once envied and slandered him would never dare to look down on him again; as he passed by them, they did not even dare to look him in the eye, keeping their heads bowed in silence.

Lancelot felt a sense of relief from head to toe, finally venting the stifled frustration in his chest. He had proven his worth, and the King had not misjudged him.