Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest-Chapter 369 - 8: The Pose of the Conqueror

Chapter 369: Chapter 8: The Pose of the Conqueror

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The autumn wind arose, the sky dimmed, and the withered yellow grasses of the vast plains gently swayed, creating a scene of turmoil and sorrow.

Pulling focus closer, the expanse of the battlefield on the plains was still blurred with gunpowder smoke. Corpses were strewn everywhere, some pierced with broken arrows or spears, others stacked into small mounds, their blood dyeing the earth red like a vast, blood-soaked mud pit. Crows were drawn to the scene, partaking in a ghastly feast.

The Thorny Iron Ring, which the Holy War Army so detested, still fluttered on the Heavenly Pegasus Plain.

Over the past five days, the River Valley Army had clashed with the Holy War Army five times on the Heavenly Pegasus Plain—each day marked by a brutal, meat-grinding battle.

The true enemies were the Shield Guard Forbidden Army, the Blood-colored Judgment, the Black Demon Hunters, the Silver White Temple, and the Conquest Knights, while the believers of All Gods were treated as expendables.

They fought shoulder to shoulder with the warriors from Ice Island.

Yet the outcome of the war remained inconclusive.

They could fight crushing battles but not annihilation battles.

Reliant on their high level of organization, they maintained formation amidst the chaos of battle, repeatedly scattering groups of believers.

But these people would quickly regroup and launch a new attack.

If they were merely fighting disorganized troops or elite soldiers, they would not fear.

Disorganized troops would scatter, while elite soldiers meant mutual attrition, a shared reluctance for damage.

But the fear came from one more wave of elite soldiers among waves of disorganized troops, suddenly increasing the pressure on the defensive line.

The River Valley Army could only defend strenuously. They dared not divide their forces for fear of being decimated by the enemy’s elites. They could only continually replace their troops to maintain a front line of soldiers with fresh stamina.

The deadlock persisted.

The enemy was too numerous, swarming everywhere; they seemed impossible to exterminate.

Explosives could run out, arrows could be exhausted, blades could become blunt, stamina could be depleted, and supplies could run low.

Yet the Holy War Army continued to receive a constant stream of supplies from all over.

This stalemate in the chaotic battle was finally broken by the arrival of forces from two factions.

The armies of two Black Iron Dukes joined hands and stepped onto the battlefield.

The Deep Blue Knights numbered over seven hundred, while the Broken Crossbowmen counted more than three hundred, and the nobles’ auxiliary forces from both dukes totaled about twenty to thirty thousand men.

When they appeared, the entire battlefield fell silent.

Following them, the oak flag also approached from the south.

The Surging Wave Knights tried to block them, but to no avail.

The Oak elite soldiers were exceptionally agile; their armor was light, and they moved swiftly, turning to enter the vast mountain ranges. With their thin lineage of the forest children, they passed through the boundless Secret Forest, circumventing the ambush set by the Surging Wave Knights.

Thus, the great kings of the land gathered together.

A duke is akin to a king.

The King of Fury, the King of Riptide, the King of Ice Island, the King of Oak, the King of River Valley, the King of Divine Mysterious—all powers made their presence known on this battlefield.

Each of their forces alone was enough to crush an army of tens of thousands of conscript soldiers.

After Riptide and Oak appeared, those royal faction nobles who had long hesitated, fearful of being intercepted, also quickly led their massive armies to the scene.

When everyone was well-equipped and hard to breach, physical stamina became the greatest limiting factor in the war.

This was an unprecedented battle of kings.

At that point, the gates of Black Castle opened.

The besieging army was shocked by this move and aimed to annihilate them.

However, the high-ranking officials of the Holy War Army guarding the gates were too stunned to speak.

This was because the first to spur his horse out was not the White Steel Princess, but the Black Iron King himself, wearing the Black Iron Crown.

Most importantly, the King of Kings, holding the highest status, had left Black Castle.

Following him were the White Steel Princess, hundreds from Black Iron, White Knights, a multitude of Conquest Knights.

Clearly, he had taken all of Black Castle’s elite fighting forces with him.

The besiegers could not stop them, primarily because much of the Holy War Army’s main force was busy restraining the various armies loyal to the king.

The man with a long, thin face, sunken cheeks, and thin lips arrived on the battlefield, carrying a true regal aura that all perceived—even though that aura stemmed from the Black Iron Crown atop his head, projecting a matchless powerful force and royal dignity.

He surveyed the surroundings; the land had become a swamp of blood mud, consuming the lives of everyone on the field.

He had to emerge, for the enemy was too many.

This was a long and arduous war, and the loyalist army had no chance of winning.

As long as the Church Court had no intention of retreating, the siege of Black Castle could never be lifted.

Moreover, having defended Black Castle for too long, they could no longer maintain it.

The pressure of the population and shortages of food inside the city were too great; people had already begun starving to death.

The longer they defended, the more dispersed the defender’s morale became, and it was only a matter of time before Black Castle would fall.

Only when the banners of Fury and Riptide appeared together did the Black Iron King finally make up his mind to confront his many liege lords.

Iao III’s eyes showed traces of struggle and pain.

The Black Iron King said, "Having not seen the cavalry from the highlands and the internal guards of Wandong, I don’t know whether to be sad or relieved." His aged words carried far.

Pine came forward, "Your Highness, the highlands are nearly perished, and the King of Wandong is on his deathbed. I believe he is the last king of Wandong."

Iolion, with a mix of laughing and crying, said, "You still acknowledge me as ’Your Highness’; I think I am the last king."

"I will always be a Black Iron Duke, and you will always be the Black Iron King," he said, "But the era of Black Iron is over, a new age needs a new order, how can we expect an order from a hundred years ago to forever protect us."

Iao III responded, "The era of Black Iron was the era of peace. The order of the Conqueror is the order of the Human Clan. My ancestors hoped that all nations could cease their hostilities, recuperate, and build up strength, but that vision has long been shattered. You have given him a time more chaotic than a century ago. It has ended, and it is time for it to end..."