Battle for King's Landing-All Who Stand in My Way Die

The iron cable supporting the river dam, which was raised by the Winch Tower, has been snapped.

Stannis was almost completely wiped out.

Of the 20,000-strong army, only 3,000 were ultimately taken away.

Of the more than two hundred warships, only twenty survived.

Stannis stared at the dangling iron chains, grinding his teeth in a muffled sound.

It looked as if they wished they could bite and chew the iron chain to pieces and swallow it whole.

"If I had another hour," Stannis thought, gazing at the still-burning wreckage of the fleet.

But now the army is exhausted, and morale has plummeted to rock bottom.

According to news relayed by the Kingswood, Stannis heard a ridiculous story about the ghost of Renly.

Some say Renly has been resurrected and is leading an army in a charge.

Stannis, of course, scoffed at this.

He knew that since he had personally executed the Usurper brother, Renly had absolutely no chance of survival.

"As long as you survive, there will always be a way," Stannis thought, a lesson taught by Maester Cressen, who had watched him grow up.

"Sir Cressen." For some reason, Stannis suddenly missed this kind old scholar very much.

According to the rules of the Citadel, once a maester is assigned to a castle, he must serve the lord of that castle, or more precisely, serve that castle until the end of his life.

Bachelor's degrees, in a sense, can be considered the "software" or "wetware" of the castle.

But after learning that Stannis had been sent to Dragonstone, Maester Cressen went with him to the castle Dragonstone.

This was the old scholar's silent love for this man as strong as steel. Stannis knew that once he left, he didn't know when he would be able to return.

He looked at the wreckage of the warships scattered across the river, just like his shattered victory, and finally, with great difficulty, turned his back and left the battlefield.

At this moment, the Gold Cloaks and his mercenaries, who were defending the city, finally celebrated their victory.

They shouted as they watched Stannis's army gradually withdraw.

"Hear Me Roar!!!"

HEARMEROAR!!!

With all his might, Tyrion roared the Lannister word in the direction Stannis had fled.

He stepped onto a helmet, in a victor's pose.

The helmet, crushed under his feet, looked like his prey.

"This is my victory!" Tyrion said, hands on his hips, looking at the ravaged battlefield, a surge of anger welling up inside him.

He really wanted his father, and all the Lannister, to see that Jaime had become Kingsguard and that he was the only one qualified to inherit Casterly Rock.

For some reason, Tyrion's face suddenly looked somewhat melancholy.

He looked at Stannis's fleeing warship and suddenly felt a sense of empathy.

He studied all the battles that Robert's Rebellion and overthrow of the Targaryen, and concluded that Stannis was a remarkable commander.

But Robert was somewhat harsh on his brother.

Based on Stannis's achievements and the order of succession, he should have inherited the titles of Storm's End and Duke of Stormlands.

But Robert gave what rightfully belonged to him to that good-for-nothing Renly.

Tyrion understood Stannis's feelings; at this moment, they even felt a sense of camaraderie.

However, in this battle, only one of them is destined to obtain what is rightfully theirs.

I'm sorry, victory belongs to Tyrion.

A bittersweet warmth welled up in his heart, causing an uncontrollable smile to appear on his lips.

However, before that smile could fully bloom, a huge shadow silently enveloped him from his side and behind. He didn't even have time to think about what it was; he only felt a heavy blow to his face, and the celebratory flames and starry sky in his vision shattered instantly, turning into boundless darkness. All his ambition, calculations, and grievances came to an abrupt end at that moment.

When Podrick saw the Kingsguard attempt to murder the Hand of the King, he was stunned for a moment. Just as the Kingsguard was about to finish Tyrion off, Podrick plunged his weapon into the guard's body, giving Tyrion a chance to live.

======

Sansa and Cersei were in a room at this time.

Despite being the daughter of a duke, she was afraid to make the slightest sound.

Sansa watched Cersei back and forth anxiously, barely daring to breathe in any air.

Even though she wished she could become invisible, Cersei still glanced at her every now and then, as if deep in thought.

"Your Majesty, Your Majesty the Queen Mother, His Majesty the King has returned."

Joffrey.

Upon hearing that Joffrey had returned, Sansa felt even more nervous.

Since her father Eddard's execution, Sansa has become Joffrey's punching bag.

He had said he would strip Sansa naked and throw her into Flea Bottom, but she didn't see it as a threat.

Therefore, I couldn't sleep all night long, and even when I could, I would wake up in a fright during my sleep.

When Cersei heard that her son had returned, she rushed over to check on him.

One minute, two minutes, five minutes...

Sansa closed her eyes and pricked up her ears, trying to eavesdrop on their conversation as much as possible.

Why did Joffrey come back?

Has the battle at the front been lost?

Stannis has attacked?

Am I about to be saved?

"Take the king to rest."

In the end, Sansa only heard this one sentence, while Cersei, who had returned, became increasingly agitated.

She came to Sansa's side, and Sansa jumped up from the chair she was only sitting on one corner of, her slender body like a reed in the wind.

"Your Majesty the Empress Dowager."

Cersei seemed lost in thought, and Sansa dared not look her in the eye.

Sansa felt her body trembling.

"Keep an eye on her."

Cersei spoke to the handmaid beside Sansa.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

A maid, or perhaps a nun, Sansa didn't know. Since Eddard's death, everyone who had once been so kind to her had become monstrous.

The maids were like this, the guards were like this, and the so-called nuns were even more so.

"Perhaps Stannis has broken in?"

Sansa mentally encouraged herself.

"Will he save me?" Sansa wasn't sure. Although she had met Stannis, the two had never spoken.

Some time later, a knight rushed back to the castle and shouted to Cersei, "Your Majesty, Stannis's army has left!"

"Are you sure?!" Cersei asked anxiously.

This time, Sansa heard Cersei's words clearly.

But that so-called "good news" pushed her into an abyss even deeper than the deepest desolation.

She didn't know when she would be able to leave the court she had once longed for. All she wanted now was to go back to Winterfell and continue her needlework. She missed Arya, Bran, her mother, and even Jon.

Suddenly, Sansa felt her hand become wet, and then realized that it was her own Tears.

Suddenly, Sansa thought of her Direwolf, Lady.

It was Arya's wolf that bit Joffrey, yet in the end, it was Arya who became the scapegoat.

A thought crossed Sansa's mind: if she were like her Direwolf, would she be spared this suffering?

Out of despair, the young girl contemplated suicide.

Once the idea took hold, it was hard to shake off.

It was dark, yet warm.

Just as Sansa was considering the possibility of this idea, Cersei's shout suddenly rang in her ears.

Sharp, piercing, like the sound of a crystal glass shattering.

Where did this Northern Army come from?!

Where did this Northern Army come from?!

The North? She just said the North! In an instant, Sansa felt light and warmth flood her dark world.

Even though it was only a little, it was enough to rid her of that damned thought.

Meanwhile, Bronn, who couldn't find Tyrion and had temporarily taken over Tyrion, was also puzzled as to where this Northern Army had come from.

Shouldn't they be in Riverlands?

"Get up! Get up, all of you! The enemy is attacking again!"

Looking at the mercenaries and the Gold Cloaks lying sprawled on the ground, Bronn shouted loudly.

Although the number of soldiers who suddenly appeared was small, they clearly came from another city gate.

There should be more enemies coming back.

Moreover, just like them, they were all on the city wall, and without the advantage of terrain, their side of the Gold Cloaks were exhausted.

But Bronn wanted to hold on a little longer, because he knew that reinforcements were already crossing the river.

If I can defeat these soldiers and hold the city gate, it will be another great achievement.

Thinking about this, Bronn felt a surge of excitement.

He pulled and dragged the soldiers lying on the ground, barely managing to build a defensive line.

Bronn stared wide-eyed, trying to see what flag the other side was flying.

However, because the light was too dim, all that could be seen was a black background with white patterns.

"Karstark?"

As a mercenary, Bronn naturally understood heraldry, and at Tyrion's suggestion, he had read two books on the subject recently.

"Hold on! Our reinforcements are crossing the river. There are only a few of them, we shouldn't be afraid!" The Gold Cloaks, who thought victory was already in sight, was pulled up, but his arm, which had been able to wield his longsword just moments before, now felt incredibly heavy.

Some people could only barely lift the spear by holding it between their armpits.

Bronn removed his gloves and tossed them aside, so he could better grip the hilt of his sword.

As he spoke words of encouragement, he looked at the approaching flags in the distance.

Not the sun?

Bronn realized that it wasn't the Winter Sun banner of House Karstark, but rather a banner that looked somewhat familiar.

When he saw the white Direwolf "galloping and roaring" on the flag, his thoughts were immediately drawn back to the battlefield of the Green Fork that day.

Not only that, but there was even a huge head hanging on the flag.

"The Mountain!"

Bronn immediately remembered the owner of the head and the symbol of the flag.

Jon Snow, Eddard Stark's bastard son, the madman who flooded the battlefield that day!

Ever since Tyrion brought him back to King's Landing, he had been talking about this man's name quite often.

Bronn had witnessed Jon's skills firsthand on the battlefield.

Not to mention he also killed the Mountain.

"I am no match for him." Suddenly, Bronn lost his will to fight and felt his courage leaving his body.

But the soldiers he had inspired were still standing there dumbfounded, and he was too embarrassed to leave for a moment.

Sure enough, as the Northern Army drew closer, Bronn gradually made out the face of its leader.

He was dressed in white armor, holding a longsword in his right hand and Greatsword in his left.

Bronn recognized it again; the broadsword belonged to the Mountain! Yet he could wield it with ease using only one hand.

As a swordsman, Bronn immediately recognized Jon's terrifying power.

Bronn wanted to escape, but he knew that if he did, he would have no chance of survival.

While he was still hesitating, Jon, who was leading the charge, shouted loudly at the Gold Cloaks blocking his way:

"I am Jon Snow, son of Eddard Stark!"

I am Jon Snow of the the Green Fork!

I am Jon Snow, the one who slew the Mountain!

Those who block my way shall die!!!