Sword of Chalk Stained with Evil Blood

The decision made by the still-young King Arthur this time was wise, yet filled with a radical style.

Young people are inevitably a bit reckless.

Anno was not at all surprised by this; after all, King Arthur could be considered half his student, even though their relationship had now shifted to that of monarch and subject.

War, while it brings death, consumes grain, and places a heavier tax burden on the citizenry, was nonetheless the best choice for Britain at present. King Arthur was gambling—betting the future of Britain on the hope that Anno could lead a knight order of five hundred and fewer than three thousand infantry to beat the surrounding small nations and self-proclaimed rebel kings into submission or death.

Anno knew full well how heavy the burden on his shoulders was.

Of the five hundred knights, only a dozen or so truly possessed martial skill; the others were merely slightly better than the infantry, knowing only a bit of horsemanship.

After the horses were distributed, Anno organized the hodgepodge knight order for a few charge drills before setting out with this force of thirty-five hundred.

He understood in his heart that in a head-on battlefield, this knight order might be less effective than ordinary infantry after the first wave of the charge.

The time was too short, the equipment was mediocre, and the coordination and synergy were a complete mess.

At critical moments, the individual martial prowess of the few knights in the ranks might be more important than the charge itself.

Anno sat on his horse, looking at the sparse, somewhat lax and disorganized troops behind him, and sighed.

Perhaps at the critical moment, he would have to reveal what he had been hiding.

He rubbed his thumb against the Sword of Chalk hanging at his waist, his eyes flickering as he gave a faint smile.

After two or three days of marching, Anno first arrived at an unknown country.

Although the British army was lax, against a small nation that didn't even have a name and possessed only four or five cities in total, they were still a crushing force.

The knight of this country stood on the five-meter-high city wall, intending to berate Anno and his men below.

Anno, however, did not even give the knight a chance to speak, his eyes cold: "Do not bother with threats. I have no interest in learning about your country. There is only one question: will you pledge allegiance to Britain, and will you open the city gates!"

The knight on the wall was momentarily speechless, but still retorted with a few symbolic words.

Anno's expression remained indifferent as he silently drew the Sword of Chalk.

Dismounting from his horse, Anno spoke: "So, you do not wish to submit to Britain. Whether we go to war or not is irrelevant; all I need to do is clear the obstacles for the bloodline of Pendragon, nothing more."

The knight order and three thousand infantry behind him were deathly silent.

The holy sword named Chalk was raised before him, reflecting the light of the sun.

"This is the sword that severs all evil, willing to be stained with the blood of the enemy."

"The silver-white end for non-human entities and adversaries!"

The holy sword in his hand—Chalk—emitted a dazzling radiance, and both the people on the wall and the British army behind Anno felt a powerful sense of oppression.

A strong wind billowed Anno's silver cloak, and his long black hair danced like wild snakes.

The light in his eyes flashed and vanished.

"This is—the Sword of Chalk!"

The long sword tilted slightly, then was swung straight forward in an unremarkable motion.

A dazzling beam of light instantly erupted from the Sword of Chalk.

The sky seemed to fall into the darkness of an eternal night for an instant, with only the light cannon emitted by the Sword of Chalk shining between heaven and earth, swallowing the city wall and everything upon it.