Fighting solo was taboo for a knight order; true orthodoxy was using sheer numbers in formation.

Right now, every rider of the Griffin Knight Order had spread into a siege formation.

Thunder element gathered at the tips of their steel lances, tracing out triangles around the sharp points, like a ring of golden thread inlaid around the metal.

As the lightning extended, the striking area of each lance grew larger. Magic boosted its power and range, turning a mid‑range thrust into a true long‑range strike.

“Haah!”

The instant their shouts merged into one, each rider’s strength, guided by training and coordination, fused together.

Bzz, bzz, bzz!

If their weapons hadn’t been made of anything but ordinary steel, those tens of thousands of lances would’ve snapped to pieces under that humming strain.

The moment countless golden lance-shadows took shape, the riders all pushed forward as one, hurling those invisible killing blows straight ahead.

About one breath later, a clear shattering ring spread through the air—and the magic barrier protecting the palace broke apart under the combined assault.

The moment his greatest reliance vanished, the duke’s head was full of only one thought:

If I’d known it would come to this, I should’ve just bowed to Inran from the start. Why the hell did I have to get “clever” and prepare a damn “gift”?

He felt if he’d acted earlier—instead of trying to score credit by grabbing Dibiles’s people—he’d be hugging a great power’s thigh right now, bullying his former boss together with them.

And now? He’d managed to drag himself into the mess instead…

At this point, their limited stock of arrows and the spells of a bunch of third‑rate mages couldn’t pose any real threat to the Griffin Knight Order.

For the riders cutting in formation toward the palace, victory was only one step away.

But that final step was something they would never take—not even in death.

At that very moment, atop a rooftop in the outer district, a beautiful reaper with flowing hair tilted her head up toward the brave knights in the sky and gave them a faint smile.

The next second, countless streaks of lightning shot up like a rainstorm in reverse, all of them stabbing straight vertically into the heavens, as if threads of light had sewn sky and earth together.

The lightning threads were tiny, but they were everywhere. No matter what you did, you couldn’t shake them off.

Forget an entire unit—even a solo fighter had only one way to survive: get away from the sky.

But that survival strategy was useless for a knight order moving as a unit. Their trained instincts wouldn’t let them break formation on their own.

So their fates were sealed the moment they left the ground.

Boom——

The instant those countless threads of lightning wove into a net, every last knight in the order was caught, not a single one slipping through.

Then the lightning net contracted. A deep rumbling rolled across the sky.

A few blinks later, ash drifted down from above. It wasn’t dust or debris, but the remains of the griffins and their riders—proof they’d been wiped out.

Convenient, in a way. Saved everyone the trouble of cremation.

Look familiar?

Yeah. Wang Xiaole had picked up this little trick after watching his disciple fight, selectively learning a move or two.

The knight order thought an aerial assault would give them the initiative. They never realized they were just making life easier for someone.

If the battlefield had been in a residential district, Wang Xiaole would’ve held back for the sake of the many civilians who hadn’t evacuated.

But the sky was different. Up here, there were no innocent bystanders to get caught in the blast. He could cut loose.

With no restraints, eighteen thousand elite troops were erased, and Inran’s casualty count went up again.

Of course, it wasn’t all bad news.

“…Not good…”

True to his reputation, Le Song was quick on the uptake. The instant the Griffin Knight Order was annihilated, he read the deeper message behind it.

Before this, he’d assumed the vanguard who’d pushed into the city had failed to take the palace purely because they’d fallen for some clever enemy scheme.

Thinking about it now—

The force that had blocked the vanguard probably wasn’t just strategy. There was likely a terrifying individual on the enemy side as well.

After a brief analysis, Le Song reached a conclusion:

The knight order being wiped out in an instant proved the Murin Duchy had the combat credentials to stand against Inran’s main army.

Whether that strength lay in one person or a group, one thing was clear and worth noting.

Why had Murin waited until now to reveal such powerful force?

Even if they were concerned about the residential areas, they shouldn’t have just turtled up and taken hits, fighting purely on defense. They should’ve launched proactive attacks.

After all, pure defense only exposes more openings. Only combining offense and defense lets you handle a war properly.

Since the duchy clearly had a capable commander, they normally wouldn’t use such amateur, one‑sided tactics—unless…

Unless their earlier “inaction” had been for some greater goal, one that would benefit them more than merely hurting the enemy’s troops.

Think about it: what payoff could be more irresistible than inflicting casualties?

There was only one answer:

Killing—or capturing alive—the enemy commander in the middle of a war.

Inran had numbers. Even if they lost ten or twenty thousand, they still had seventy or eighty thousand left. In a war of attrition, Murin had only one ending: destruction.

But if someone could take Le Song—the core of the entire army—off the board in battle, the war would be decided in an instant.

As he subconsciously stepped back a few paces, Le Song finally understood:

The duchy’s earlier refusal to commit their strongest force had been to lull his side into carelessness, tricking them into thinking Murin only knew a few clever tricks.

The moment his forces exposed a decisive opening, the enemy would strike—using a “capture the king” strategy on this battlefield, trying to seize him in one stroke, or kill him outright.

If they succeeded, even with overwhelming numbers, his army would still collapse after losing its commander.

The one thing Le Song felt lucky about right now was this:

Thankfully, the Griffin Knight Order had chosen to launch that bold assault.

If they hadn’t attacked with everything they had and pushed close to the palace, forcing the duchy to the brink of defeat, the enemy would never have committed their hidden power.

Without that, Le Song would still be in the dark about their true intent.

The moment they revealed that hidden strength to save the palace, their “capture the king” plan was already half ruined.

Now, Le Song had made up his mind to ruin it completely. To do that, he had to—

Run. Run, now.

This was not the time for the commander of the entire army to stand on the battlefield boosting morale. To prevent the worst‑case scenario, he had to move to a safe location immediately.

Normally, when a commander retreats or pulls away from the front line, he has to hide it from his troops. If they realize he’s gone, morale can crash.

To create the illusion that he was still present, Le Song specifically ordered the flag bearer to hold the command banner steady and never let it fall.

Once he’d made all the necessary arrangements, Le Song turned away, mounted a spare warhorse, and pulled the reins to head back.

Almost at the same time, a certain figure started sprinting full speed from the outer district toward his position.

Just then, Inran’s forces were gradually tightening their grip on the battle.

On every front, Murin’s troops were already reduced to little more than scattered remnants.

From the outside, it looked like Inran was about to laugh last. But it was exactly at moments like this that they were closest to defeat.

Because the battle seemed to favor them, Inran’s professional soldiers were now focused solely on wiping the enemy out to the last man. Not one of them turned their head to scan for anomalies nearby.

Wang Xiaole picked this exact moment to move—when almost no one in the enemy ranks was splitting their attention.

The more focused they were, the easier it was for him to act—and the faster they were speeding toward their own defeat.

The key that decides a war often lies in tiny, easily overlooked details.

Now, while Le Song was racing for the city outskirts, Wang Xiaole turned into a streak of light and chased after him at full speed.

Actions no one notices often produce the best results.

Take the flag bearer, for example. He did glance around from time to time, but the only thing he felt a bit later was a gust of wind brushing past. Other than that, he noticed nothing.

Regular soldiers were just too low level. When something moved that much faster than them, their naked eyes simply couldn’t catch it.

That was exactly why Wang Xiaole could stay tight on Le Song’s heels, pass through places like the city gate along the way, and still never be spotted by enemy troops.

His subordinates might not be up to the task, but Le Song was different.

The marshal sensed something wrong in the wind rushing behind him. He turned his head—and the first thing he saw was a beautiful face, smiling with a hint of danger.

“Young lady, I’m guessing you’re not one of mine, are you?”

“I’m your enemy.”

The chased and the chaser—one daring enough to ask, the other to answer. The atmosphere between them wasn’t exactly bad, but it was definitely not good.

“Back at the military academy, not a single girl ever chased after me. Didn’t think I’d get to make up for that regret today.”

Honestly, Le Song was a little grateful when he realized a girl was chasing him. If she gave up halfway and let him make it back to camp in one piece while keeping this memory, that would be perfect.

After a short while, a disgruntled voice carried to his ears on the wind.

“What kind of man makes a girl keep chasing him like this? Get down here already!”

While running, Wang Xiaole nudged a stone up with his toes, then lifted his leg and kicked it.

The stone shot forward and struck the horse’s tail dead‑on, making the warhorse rear up high in pain.

In its struggle, Le Song had a stroke of bad luck. He was thrown straight off, hit the ground, and tumbled several meters across the dirt.

The horse’s feelings could wait. Right now, Le Song’s situation was worse than it had ever been.