Thus, this fat, pig-like city lord, covered in blood and carrying a dripping sword, looked like a warrior who had just returned from the battlefield.
The other dozens of nobles suddenly realized what was happening and, following suit, began their own 'makeup' process. (Updates continue...)
Meanwhile, the nobles' guards began to cut off the heads of the corpses on the city wall. These heads would be the best proof of their war merits—although the deaths of the Ajax soldiers on the wall had nothing to do with them, and most of them were killed by the garrison soldiers, this did not stop them from vying for credit. Seemingly accustomed to the nobles' actions, the garrison soldiers, who had just been given a chance to catch their breath, watched this scene with indifference and did not speak up to stop it.
"Stop! That's one of our own! Damn it, that's my brother's corpse!" A young garrison soldier with a large gash on his shoulder, his armor and blouse stained with blood, suddenly became agitated and shoved aside a noble guard who was about to behead the corpse on the ground.
"You filthy thing, how dare you push me?" the noble guard, who had been knocked back, roared in anger.
"This is my brother's body, my brother's body, he was one of us. He just died protecting me..." The young soldier trembled all over. He had almost been cut in two by the enemy's One Sword, but his brother, who was two years older than him, had desperately used his body to block the swarming enemies and save the young soldier.
"Pah! Get out of my way! He's already dead anyway. What's the difference between cutting off his head to curry favor and burying it in the ground to rot?" Amidst his companions' mocking laughter, the noble guard felt his dignity challenged. He raised his foot and kicked the young, wounded soldier away, baring his teeth like an enraged hyena.
"This is outrageous! Don't you have any humanity?" A garrison soldier couldn't stand it anymore. "Those were our brothers, they died protecting you!"
"How dare you desecrate the body of a brave soldier who died in battle?"
More and more soldiers stood up on the city wall, glaring angrily. If they would silently endure the oppression of these noble guards in peacetime, in this war-torn era, the bottom line of tolerance had been crossed, and the conflict began to become irreconcilable. Their resentment towards the nobles was like a raging fire burning in their hearts.
The noble guard's face changed, and he took two steps back. His panicked eyes revealed his fear. For the first time, he felt that the lowly soldiers he had previously regarded as worthless were actually somewhat terrifying...
"What happened? Why did you stop?" Just then, Soroyev walked over, drawn by the large belly.
"My lord, these lowly farmers dare to defy your orders..." The guard recounted everything that had happened to the city lord, who was as fat as a pig but incredibly terrifying, without daring to embellish anything. Clearly, the guard was also terrified of this frightening fat man and dared not lie to him.
"You've truly disappointed me, Kyle. Why would you do such a thing?" The enormous, obese city lord harshly reprimanded his guards. "These soldiers died fighting for us. How is your behavior any different from that of a beast?"
The guard was stunned for a moment, but dared not say anything more, and knelt on the ground, apologizing in a panic.
"Give him a hundred lashes as a small punishment." Soroyev waved his hand, then turned to look at the soldiers opposite him, frowned, and said, "My guards insulted the body of the dead and should be punished, but you are just a bunch of lowly rabble who dared to openly defy me. Such provocation of the dignity and Glory of the Imperial nobility should also be punished... You, you, you, you three, you were the most disruptive just now. Men, cut off one of their arms and one of their legs as punishment."
The people Soroyev was referring to were the young soldier and the two middle-aged men who had first spoken up in his support.
The soldiers' expressions changed drastically upon hearing this.
Soroyev was a tyrannical ruler in Twin Flag City, controlling the city's finances and administration. Even the garrison commander, Ribery, had to swallow his anger most of the time because of the army's pay. How much more so would these lowly soldiers? For Soroyev, cutting off a few soldiers' limbs was as easy as crushing a few cockroaches. Besides, the city lord's reasoning this time was very sound—releasing guards who resisted nobles was no different from resisting nobles, and resisting nobles was resisting the imperial ruling order, which, according to imperial law, warranted the amputation of limbs.
Soroyev had his reasons for doing this.
Frustrated and unable to deal with the powerful new commander, King of Chambord, who had just arrived in Twin Flag City, Lord Chambord was naturally taking his anger out on these ordinary soldiers. He also wanted to make it clear to these lower-ranking soldiers that even if he couldn't do anything to King of Chambord, dealing with a few of them was just a matter of a moment, and he wanted to have a deterrent effect.
Clang!
The guards of the city lord's mansion, as fierce as wolves, drew their swords and dragged the three poor soldiers out of the crowd.
Someone found a wooden shield and used a rope to firmly secure the right hand of the tallest of the three warriors to the shield. Another guard raised his axe high, the blade gleaming with a chilling white light in the sunlight, ready to strike.
The surrounding soldiers all lowered their heads, unable to bear watching any longer.
In this world with its extremely strict hierarchical order, even if they are furious, as the lowest-ranking soldiers, they dare not rebel against these high-ranking nobles. Without strong individual strength, any sympathy or pity will come at a huge price, bringing you to annihilation.
Clang!
The axe blade struck the shield.
Blood splattered, and a shrill scream rang out. The tall, thin soldier let out a miserable roar, his body convulsing and trembling violently from the pain. His face was ashen, and his lips were bitten until they bled, but he stubbornly refused to faint.
At that moment, hatred finally shone in the warrior's eyes.
"I really dislike your gaze, soldier. Since you've chosen hatred, then I might as well cut off another leg..." Soroyev smiled and shook his head, gesturing to the guard holding the blood-dripping axe. "Continue!"
The guard licked his lips, grinned maliciously, and raised his axe high once more.
"Where is that cowardly Soroyev? Get your ass out here right now... Huh? What's going on here? Are they executing enemy soldiers?" Just then, a loud, brash voice came from the crowd in the distance without any attempt to hide it.
Everyone's expression changed instantly.
A cowardly turtle? Who dares to use that word to describe the fat city lord?
In an instant, Soroyev's newly improved mood was completely ruined. His smile froze on his face, as if he had been hit hard with the sole of a shoe smeared with dog feces. His face was so gloomy that it seemed to drip water.
A nobleman standing nearby roared, "Who is it? Who dares to insult the city lord so boldly? Don't they want to live? Step forward!"
"Haha, Paul, they want you to step forward? You're doomed! You've angered the noble lord!" Another laughing voice came from the crowd.
"Shouting? You're all talk and no action. I've stepped forward, what can you do to me?" As the words fell, a muscular, white -Zongheng haired man nearly two meters tall squeezed out from the crowd of soldiers, a blade of grass dangling from his mouth, and stood on the open ground with a sneer.
Before anyone could react, a burly man with long black hair tightly tied in a ponytail stepped out, also carrying a blade of grass in his mouth. He chuckled and glanced around, his gaze lingering on City Lord Soroyev. Clearly startled by the lord's enormous size, he grinned, patted the shoulder of the white-haired man beside him, and laughed, " Paul, this fat pig's antics are almost on par with that idiot Oleg's..."
"He's not as tall Oleg," the white-haired, burly man said, squinting.
"Hmm," the burly man with black hair and a ponytail nodded, smacking his lips in agreement, "Indeed, haha, short and fat, like a big fat pig."
When the burly, black-haired man said that, almost everyone burst out laughing. Everyone in Twin Flag City knew that Soroyev was incredibly obese, but this was the first time anyone had dared to compare him to a fat pig to his face. Soroyev was extremely sensitive about being called fat. Who were these two burly men? How dare they make fun of the city lord like this?
"How dare you!"
"Presumptuous!"
Kill them!
"How dare you insult the city lord? Who are you people?"
Soroyev was trembling with rage. His guards and the nobles who were subservient to him were furious and pointed at the two giants, shouting angrily.
"The city lord? This fat pig is the city lord?" The white-haired burly man smacked his lips, spat out the grass stalk in his mouth, glanced at his companion beside him, shrugged, and said, "Business is important. His Majesty is waiting. You speak!"
The burly man with black hair and a ponytail nodded, sized up Soroyev a few times, and laughed, "You're the city lord? Drogba and Pierce, Chambord City King Alexander, are here on His Majesty's orders to have you report the battle situation from the west gate tower immediately. Hehe, city lord, please!"
First update.
With the support of red tickets.
<divid="adtop">