Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest-Chapter 312 - 18: Welcome Our King

This year’s winter was especially cold.

The Holy War Army had deployed three thousand soldiers downstream on the Bro River to prevent Roman’s army from leaving the pass.

That place was originally a desolate wilderness with scattered trees, rarely visited and undeveloped.

Roman had landed there when he plundered Kant Territory, fought with the allied nobles, and waged war against the rebel army.

Three wars, each larger in scale than the last.

People trampled, horses galloped, and the transport units completely cleared the mixed woods, turning it into a simple ferry crossing.

Now, it actually benefited the Holy War Army—just blocking the critical downstream ferry point meant that for dozens of miles along the Bro River, there were no large-scale landing points.

The Holy War Army built a camp here, chopped wood for warmth, and with a supply line from Kant Territory that was very short, taking only three days for deliveries, it was invincible; no army could easily come ashore from the river.

Just as external forces found it hard to break into Origin City, it wasn’t easy for those inside Origin City to come out either.

Hiris was the Garrison Marshal, born of the Divine Mysterious nobility.

When he learned that Roman’s fleet appeared on the river, he immediately rallied the Holy War Army and began deploying troops.

In autumn, the Holy War Army had attacked Origin City once but had been repelled.

The number of crossbowmen in Origin City was too great; they even managed to drive them back without an army.

Those hateful yet pitiful commoners completely disregarded the badges of All Gods and Holy Seat fluttering on their ships, daring to shoot Crossbow Arrows at them!

They were here to help them, to rescue them from the clutches of Blasphemers and evil witches!

Hiris believed those crossbowmen were deluded by Blasphemers.

If they had thoughts of repentance, then he would spare their lives; if not, then the witches would be killed along with them, for those who did not believe in All Gods could not be redeemed.

"Blasphemer Roman, fortune turns, this time let you taste the feeling of being covered in a rain of arrows!" thought Hiris.

He was sure that the Blasphemer was merely fierce temporarily and would not be arrogant for long.

The Holy War Army’s crossbows were ready to be unleashed.

Half of his garrison consisted of crossbowmen, giving them a significant advantage.

The Church Court and Divine Mystery were rich and powerful; the Holy War Army carried over a hundred thousand arrows.

But defending for several days would definitely be more than enough, and it was unknown how much damage these arrows would cause.

Hiris firmly believed that the Holy War Army would choke the Blasphemers in this river valley!

Come out of the pass?

Don’t even think about it!

Approaching, the silhouette of the ship gradually became clear; the target was only three hundred meters away.

The ship’s banner with the Thorny Iron Ring was very conspicuous: a white flag, a bright red iron ring, and several golden long spears inserted inside.

Hiris squinted his eyes as he looked into the distance.

Crossbowmen stood at the river bank ferry point, holding military weapons, ready for battle.

But before the Marshal could give the command, he faintly heard some disturbance from behind, and the disturbance grew louder.

"What’s happening?!" Hiris asked angrily.

Disturbance before battle was a major taboo in the military, punishable by decapitation.

"Marshal! Enemy attack! Enemy attack from behind! Knights! All foot combat knights!"

A soldier guarding the rear of the camp sent an urgent report.

A jet-black crow flew over the mixed woods beside the camp and plunged into the water.

"Caw!!"

It let out a piercing cry.

The river was bitterly cold, the crow’s long cry echoed through the empty valley.

Hiris suddenly noticed that the fleet was speeding up; his mind was greatly disturbed. There definitely was an enemy attack, surely coming from behind, but where was it coming from?

Are they all Conquest Knights? How is that possible?!

Nonsense!

Helping the Blasphemers would mean making an enemy of the entire Gods World, who would have the guts and audacity to do that?

"Shoot arrows!" he yelled loudly.

There was no time to think, those ships had entered the shooting range.

As the arrows fell like rain, the disturbance behind them spread like a plague, growing louder and clearer.

It was like an invisible wall advancing rapidly, those who it touched only had time to scream before falling silent forever.

The guards by the riverbank also began to panic, unclear about what was happening.

"Ah!" another person screamed.

Hiris suddenly turned his head, his pupils shrinking as he saw an unfamiliar army charging through their camp. These strangers had clearly run all the way here, their breath hot, mingling with the cold air to form a thick fog.

They were well-trained and agile, consisting of dozens of squads, each with about ten men, either wielding long spears or carrying light shields, directly smashing into their rear.

The rear guard tried to counterattack but was cleanly killed off; there wasn’t a single resistor left unscathed along the way.

Because they were all wearing steel plate armor forged from complete plates!

Hiris was stunned.

This was equipment of the Conquest Knight level. Where did these hundreds of men come from?

A foot Knight leading the charge yelled, "Fifth Squad! Sixth Squad! Follow me and crush them! Prepare to greet our king!"

The two flag officers at the rear raised five-meter-tall flagpoles, the banners at the top billowing in the wind, the Thorny Iron Ring leaping forth, corresponding with the banners on the boats on the river.

It was as if lightning had struck Hiris!

Hundreds of foot Conquest Knights like blades piercing into pork plunged into the crowd, slaughtering ruthlessly.

Hiris realized in terror that it was over for him; he tried to have the guards counter the sneak attack from behind, but changing from rear to front line was too difficult, and by now, most of them didn’t even know whom to fight.

Boom!

The boats floating on the river also finally landed, and one after another, lightly armored soldiers jumped off.

There was fighting in the front and fighting in the rear.

...

Half an hour later, the entire riverbank was stained red with blood.

Marshal Hiris died in battle and the guards’ camp was swept clean.

More than fifteen hundred men were either killed on the spot or, having nowhere to go, jumped into the river and died from drowning or freezing.

About seven hundred were captured, and several hundred others took advantage of the chaos to escape into the forest, too difficult to pursue, so the River Valley Army let them go.

Seven hundred old soldiers, panting heavily, restrained by their Squad Leaders and Squadron Leaders, made a quick rest before assembling neatly into squares at the riverside.

A sailboat drifted in, bumping into the shore. Dozens of soldiers pulled on ropes to ensure it was stable.

Roman stepped off the temporarily constructed ladder from the sailboat, walking step by step until his feet touched this blood-stained land. The bodies had also been cleared to the side.

"Fifth Squad, Sixth Squad, welcome the king’s arrival; I hope this scene has not offended you." The returning Squad Leader knelt on one knee.

Roman approached him, "Get up. Fana, when did you learn to be so slick?"

Fana stood up; half a year ago, Roman had appointed him as the Squad Leader to lead the fifth, sixth, and seventh Squads to aid the Sea Castle, a trial he had handled well, and now he had returned with the first two squads.

"You told us to learn more," Fana said, robust and dark-toned, strong-built, once a guard of Sige Town, now capable of standing on his own.

"I told you to learn something useful."

"You told us to go out and learn, but without you, we can’t tell which are useful..." Fana looked at Roman, his dense beard moving as he spoke uncontrollably happy, "Now we are back by your side."

"Hmm..." Roman hummed.

He slightly tilted his head, looking at him sideways, then gently raised his right hand, the motion graceful to a fault.

The Squad Leader bowed reverently and joyfully, treasuring the moment as he caught that right hand, bowing down to lightly kiss the back of it.