Hail the King

“Time is about right. On the other side of Zuli River, more than 400,000 Barcelonan soldiers and 300,000 puppet Zenitian soldiers gathered together. Perhaps we can launch a quick raid. With hundreds of mystical gold war puppets, we can make all of them disappear within an hour,” Bast suggested while trying to suppress his anger.

In the watchtower on the southern gate, a new round of military meetings were happening.

Except for Bast, Brook, and Old Aryang, various military officers, big and small, all joined the meetings.

Recalling what Barcelonans had done to the civilians of Zenit, rage burned in every Chambordian’s mind. They all wanted to charge out and kill these demons.

Although Bast was a civil official, he was murderous at this moment, and many military officers agreed to his suggestions.

In fact, Brook was moved as well.

Now, everyone was looking at Strategist Old Aryang.

In the last while, Old Aryang’s steady commands and deep analyses of the battlefield earned him the respect from everyone. Before the king returned, he was the head commander in the military of Chambord. The tactic of not revealing the true strength of the magic puppets was also a part of Old Aryang’s big plan.

“Not now.” Old Aryang thought for a moment and shook his head.

“Although we can obliterate the enemy troops on the other side of the river with the 500 magic puppets, we can’t kill the demi-gods and other masters. There are about 800,000 enemy soldiers, and they will go rogue when the troops are destroyed. Without restrictions, they are going to slaughter Zenitian refugees and bring disasters to our peers who are struggling to barely stay alive in the enemy territory. Besides, the mystical gold war puppets have limited mobility so that they can’t chase far, and we have a limited number of soldiers. Right now, we don’t have the strength to fight Barcelonans head-on. After they retreat to St. Petersburg, they could gather troops again and come back. By then, they would have a clear understanding of the number of magic puppets that we have and their range. Our situation will become even harder.”

Most people agreed with Old Aryang’s analysis.

“Then, what should we do? Are we just going to watch those b*stards of Barcelona kill Zenitian refugees and assault Zenitian women?”

Once Bast got mad, he showed more anger and hatred than anyone else.

“We don’t need to wait for long.” Old Aryang smiled and said, “After calculating the time, Torres should have returned to the [Banished Land] and reported everything to King Alexander, and His Majesty is about to return. Once His Majesty is back, we can start the counterattack!”

“His Majesty’s return?”

After thinking about this, everyone sat straighter and was filled with excitement and expectations.

“Yeah! If the invincible King Alexander returns, none of this would pose problems. Leaving other things aside, His Majesty can command the magic puppet troop without restrictions and chase after Barcelonans to the end of the world. Killing these demi-gods, kicking Barcelonans out of Zenit, and restoring the empire will only be a matter of time.”

Enduring this a bit longer would result in a huge shift in the world.

…

-Inside the campsite of Barcelona-

Tens of thousands of Zenitian refugees were locked inside a place that was enclosed by fences and looked like a sheep pen, and they were shivering in the cold.

Not far away from this refugee pen, there was a luxurious-looking magic tent.

The curtain door of the tent opened, and a handsome young man in the military uniform of Barcelona walked out with a smile on his face.

He was the former Silver Moon Knight Piazon, one of the ten execution knights of Zenit.