“Thud!”

Ron’s longsword pierced Ruth’s back, and he twisted it violently, shredding the demon’s heart.

Finally unable to move, Ruth collapsed heavily to the ground. This powerful demon who was only a step away from becoming the cannibal chief had been unable to escape the crusaders’ onslaught even unto death.

As for the crusaders, Ron and the others, though their energy was somewhat depleted, they had suffered no serious injuries.

After Ruth fell, several crusaders turned and joined the battle up ahead. It wasn’t yet time to rest.

Ron found a two-meter-long pike and cut off Ruth’s head, then stuck it on the pike along with the voyeur’s head, which he raised high in the air to demoralize the enemy.

To humans, all demons looked the same, and the only way to tell them apart was by their strength and what they wore. However, demons could tell each other apart, and everyone here recognized Ruth.

When Ron held up Ruth’s head, more and more demons noticed their chief’s death.

Leading from the front might sound inspiring, but it was also a double-edged sword.

If the leader of an army survived, it naturally boosted the morale of his troops, but if he met an unfortunate death, it would likewise have a devastating impact on his subordinates.

As more and more of the demons discovered Ruth’s death, their defeat became inevitable. The demon warriors, who had been brave enough to face the crusaders and the knights, began fleeing.

Once one soldier turned tail, others followed suit. Unlike human armies, there were no demon enforcers to punish deserters, so the first defector triggered a chain reaction. Demons may have been fierce warriors, but they were intelligent beings, and all living creatures feared death.

In terms of bravery, the dog-headed people proved more courageous than the demons. After the demons began fleeing en masse, the dog-headed people continued fighting to the last. However, combat power far outweighed fighting will in such circumstances.

Without the demons to lead them, the dog-headed people’s weapons could hardly pierce through the light armor of auxiliary soldiers, while any average auxiliary soldier could easily hack down four or five dog-headed people with some effort.

Despite their tenacious resistance, the only effect the dog-headed people had was delaying the pursuit of the retreating demons and buying them some time to escape.

Ogres were faster than humans, and with the dog-headed people delaying the allied soldiers, the distance between the two forces only continued to grow.

If Richard had no cavalry or griffins, he would have had to watch hundreds of ogres escape even if he won the battle.

“Clack-clack-clack…”

At the fall of the command flag, the sound of hoofbeats thundered from within the allied ranks. The infantry, still in pursuit of the ogres, instinctively parted to either side to allow the cavalry passage.

Using cavalry, especially light cavalry, to directly assault a complete infantry formation was an extremely lavish maneuver. Unless absolutely necessary, commanders were unwilling to squander their cavalry’s combat power against infantry, let alone use them to charge ogres head-on.

Richard was not one to engage in such profligacy. He waited until the ogre formation began breaking down before unleashing his cavalry to finish them off. Any enemy, no matter how strong, exposed its back became little more than lambs awaiting slaughter. The pursuing cavalrymen easily impaled the fleeing ogres with their lances as they rode past.

The armor of a giant was concentrated on its front, leaving only a thin layer on its back, which served more to connect the front and rear plates than anything else. It lacked the thickness of the armor on its front and could be pierced through with a single strike from a cavalryman’s spear.

The griffins in the sky also began their deadly dives. With Richard’s advanced combat techniques, the griffins’ efficiency in slaughter even surpassed that of the cavalry.

Every strike took away the life of an on-the-run giant, who had no means to organize any effective resistance against their attackers, nor the power to inflict harm upon their enemies. Richard could safely leave the griffins to their own devices.

The chase continued until nightfall, when Richard, surveying the battlefield, saw no movement from any surviving enemy.

Unlike his previous battles, Richard did not lead the charge, though he was still at the peak of knight rank and would have made for a formidable force if he had joined the fray.

However, Richard believed firmly in the saying, “The good swimmer drowns, the skilled rider falls.” Just as it is easier to dodge an open attack than one from an unseen foe, Richard refused to believe he would be spared danger on the battlefield, even if he were stronger than any army.

Until he truly reached a level of power where he could ignore an army’s might, he would rather stay back and avoid direct confrontation when possible.

This time, the escaped enemies were mainly orcs and dog-headed people, so Richard couldn’t order his troops to execute every last one of them like he had before. Instead, he focused on ordering his men to kill the fleeing orcs, while letting a few dog-headed people escape into the villages.

With the villagers’ courage, they would be able to easily dispatch the dog-headed people, but if even one escaped orc managed to make its way into a village, it would spell disaster for the entire settlement.

The griffins pursued the enemy for a few dozen kilometers, tracking down and killing every remaining mobile orc before returning to their base. If any orcs managed to feign death and escape, Richard was powerless against such cunning opponents.

“A glorious victory!”

“Experience gained: 18,060.”

“Congratulations! You have been promoted.”

Once the royal griffins returned from battle, the System finally determined that Richard had secured victory in the campaign.

Ruth’s tribe far surpassed the two tribes he had annihilated earlier, and the progress bar for the quest to eliminate the orc warriors was now more than half complete. The experience earned was nearly three times that of his previous efforts, and his level jumped up to seven.

Level: 7 (8,320/30,000)

Strength: 15.9

Stamina: 15.1

Agility: 15.0

Mind: 4.9

Skills: Beast Breathing Style (Grandmaster) – Maxed, Green Qi-Attracting Technique (Intermediate), Attack Technique (Advanced).

Specialty: Domination

Available Skill Points: 1

Army: Centaur Chieftain (40), Spearmen (99), Sword Dancers (15), Marksmen (65), Royal Griffin Riders (35), Crusaders (23).

Once again, his promotion did not grant any new skills, but upon leveling up, Richard’s attributes received a slight boost. The only significant difference between himself and most other knights at the peak of their training was the intensity and capacity of their battle energy.

As for the skill point he gained from promotion, he could either add it to the Green Qi-Attracting Technique or the Advanced Attack Technique, though the latter was grayed out, clearly requiring more points.

After some thought, Richard decided to save the skill point. His cultivation of battle energy was progressing at a reasonable pace, and it would be more worthwhile to use such a precious skill point on a strategic skill.

“Cheers!”

After clinking their mugs, the nobles downed the barley wine, draining them in loud gulps.

The nobles of the northern lands retained a certain degree of their wild, unrestrained nature; unlike those from the River Valley and the Imperial Capital, they were less concerned with etiquette and still enjoyed eating and drinking heartily.

At night, cattle and sheep were roasted over the bonfire while lords and soldiers alike indulged in meat and booze. The allied forces hosted a celebratory banquet using the cattle and sheep they had confiscated from the enemy.

With all the remaining cannibals in the Fifth War Zone eradicated, there was no need for them to continue living in fear, and this certainly called for a grand celebration.

“Master Richard, allow me to toast to you!”

Baron Bandel took the initiative to approach Richard, held up a large mug of wine, and drained it in one gulp, his face adorned with a thick beard that made him appear exceptionally manly.

Richard wasn’t much of a drinker, but he lifted the cup and took a sip to give the man some face, basking in the atmosphere.

This was also a reflection of Richard’s status. Though he held no noble title, his position was nevertheless the highest among all the lords present. If any of the lords present had been his equal, they would have pointed at him and demanded, “Finish it, or are you saving it for your fish?” But Richard was the most senior lord in attendance, so merely taking a sip from his cup was a generous show of courtesy.

“Master Richard, what’s next?” After offering their congratulations, Baron Bandel spoke on behalf of many inquiring minds.

Head down, Richard studied his cup, then looked up. “Reorganize our troops and dispatch more scouts. Don’t tell me you all think the fighting is over?”

The lords all fell silent, their mirth replaced by solemnity.

Only the soldiers feasting around the bonfire in the distance continued to eat and celebrate, unaware that this was but the beginning…