I Can't Cry

At the end of the Paths of the Dead, south of the White Mountains, lies the southern territory of Gondor.

Russell crouched on a boulder, gazing at the distant plains and coastline, with countless undead lined up neatly behind him.

The gray banners fluttered in the eerie wind, and the Undead Leader shouted to summon the remaining tribesmen in the valley. Cavalrymen brandished their spears and galloped in, and more and more undead gathered here.

A ghastly green glow shot into the sky, illuminating everything around it in a greenish hue, including... Aragorn.

The Army of the Dead easily surpassed 20,000, but their actual combat strength was zero. Russell confirmed this repeatedly, confirming that they indeed had no physical damage.

The only weapon of the dead is fear. Over thousands of years, these old ghosts have mastered all sorts of scare techniques. Any one of them could be the lead actor in a low-budget horror movie.

To put it another way, they have no other skills besides scaring people!

"My king, your army is gathered here, awaiting your command after thousands of years." The Undead Leader dismounted and knelt before Aragorn.

Following standard procedure, Aragorn should have said a few words to boost morale. He had prepared a speech in advance, but when the words came to his lips, he really had nothing to say.

The undead are eager to die and are not even afraid of death. Their morale is high, so what else is there to say?

"Walk!"

Aragorn raised his hand to block the green light in front of him, and led the undead across the plains toward the coastline.

Meanwhile, in Minas Tirith, the capital of Gondor.

This royal capital, built using the natural contours of the mountains, is a masterpiece of nature. Its pure white walls, carved from hard rock, stand like blades on the earth, forming the most powerful fortress in Middle-earth against the army of Mordor.

The capital city is divided into seven layers, each with its own independent walls and entrance. As long as there is a single soldier inside, even a thousand troops cannot take it down, making it as impregnable as a fortress.

But there has never been a fortress or a defensive system in the world that could remain unconquered for a long time. There is none now, and there never will be, Minas Tirith is no exception.

Placing a nation's hopes on a single defensive line will only lead to the entire nation surrendering!

For example, right now, the capital is surrounded by the Orcs army of Mordor. All passages, including the port, are controlled, and there are Ringwraiths riding dragons in the sky. The capital is unable to send out a distress signal and has become an isolated city.

Denethor II got drunk in the palace, feeling depressed because he couldn't find anyone who understood him, and could only drown his sorrows in alcohol.

His beloved son Boromir has returned safely from Rivendell, but unfortunately, the Wizard Gandalf, whom he hates the most, has also come.

When Denethor succeeded to the throne as regent, he felt that Gandalf, who seemed honest and kind, was actually full of wickedness and might very well affect his absolute rule over Gondor.

His prediction was spot on: Gandalf found the Inheritors the throne, Gondor was about to welcome a new king.

But what he didn't expect was that his most favored eldest son, Boromir, who would succeed him as regent, actually stood with Gandalf.

Deneser was completely devastated. Heaven have mercy on him! He had worked so diligently and tirelessly to govern the country all these years, but what was it all for?

It was all to lay a solid foundation so that the throne could be passed to Boromir, who would become a wise and capable ruler and live a comfortable and prosperous life!

Denethor believed that his son must have been switched at birth, or that he had been bewitched by Gandalf, otherwise his IQ would not have plummeted to an incurable level.

The most likely explanation is that he was switched; Boromir has gained a lot of weight and can no longer wear his old armor.

This is abnormal. Before Boromir went to Rivendell, he could still wear a chainmail under his armor. There's no reason for him to suddenly gain so much weight.

Moreover, the journey from Rivendell over mountains and valleys to Kingdom of Rohan was arduous and bumpy, and it seemed like he would lose ten pounds.

Denesser dismissed his attendants and locked himself in the palace, lost in thought as he poured himself a drink. The wine didn't intoxicate him; he intoxicated himself, and soon collapsed under the table.

Outside the door, three furtive figures pushed open the door and entered. Gandalf was dressed in a white robe even as a thief, while the other two were Boromir and Faramir.

Incidentally, these two are brothers, both sons of Deneiser.

Boromir supports Gandalf, believing Aragorn to be the true king, Faramir supports Boromir, believing his brother is always right.

The two disgraceful sons, taking advantage of their positions, diverted the guards loyal to Deneiser from the palace and successfully infiltrated the great hall.

Gandalf carefully helped Denethor up, poured a vial of potion into his mouth, and said with a smile, "The Regent will wake up in two days. Remember to give him some water, otherwise he will wake up thirsty early if he drinks too much wine."

At this point, Gandalf stroked his beard. Gandalf the White was a man of status. When he entered, the Regent King did not offer him a seat, but instead made all sorts of sarcastic remarks and starved him for two days as punishment.

Hmph, the last person who offended him is already a wandering ghost!

"Gandalf, won't people find out?" Boromir asked worriedly.

"The Regent's heartbeat hasn't stopped, it's just slowed down considerably. It won't be noticed without a careful inspection. How you brothers manage to keep this a secret depends on your performance!"

Boromir smiled confidently upon hearing this, "Gandalf, don't worry. I've learned a lot from you... cough cough, from Russell, especially the ability to lie through my teeth. Even if I'm still a bit less skilled than you... cough cough, compared to Russell, I can definitely fool the honest people in the palace."

Upon hearing this, Faramir immediately cast an admiring glance his way. As expected of his elder brother, he had become so capable after just one trip abroad for further studies!

"Then I'll leave it to you. I'll go first..." Gandalf nodded in satisfaction, thinking to himself that Russell had done a lot of harm. Boromir, such a good boy, had been corrupted.

Gandalf left quietly, and everyone in the palace knew that the Regent disliked him and that staying would arouse suspicion.

After Gandalf left, Boromir closed his eyes, and three seconds later, tears streamed down his face. He turned to Faramir and said, "Brother, cry, cry as much as you can!"

Faramir opened his mouth wide, paused for a moment, and almost burst out laughing, "Big brother, I can't cry."

Snap!

Boromir slapped him across the face, and the latter covered his face in astonishment. "Big brother, you hit me?"

As he spoke, Faramir shed tears of grievance. Despite being the son of the Steward and the second in line to the throne, he was not favored by Denethor. Moreover, his mother had died early, and only Boromir showed him affection.

And now, his most respected older brother actually slapped him!

"Ah..."

"Yes, that's it, keep this intensity, any more and it'll be too much..."

Looking at his younger brother who was wailing loudly, Boromir nodded, squeezed out his tears, and shouted loudly towards the gate.

"Help!!"

"Help! The Regent has drunk too much and is dying!!!"

"Big brother, well, we've already transferred all the people away..."

Boromir: "..."