57. Chapter 57: Act 49 – Swordsmanship
Because there was no deliberate concealment, Brendel was discovered by the guards as he passed through the first inner courtyard. After killing three men, the seven-member patrol team scattered, conveying the information about the intruder to every corner of the castle.
Inside the Pine Fort, there were thirty-two guards, mostly mercenaries. The captain was a former leader of Rendener’s mercenaries, skilled in combat, possessing not only mid-level black iron swordsman abilities but also a commanding intelligence.
Thus, when Brendel entered the second-floor banquet hall, he was ambushed by eleven guards participating in this trap. As soon as he pushed open the door, the brightly lit hall he remembered was suddenly filled with the sound of arrows being loosed by archers hidden in the upper corridor.
At such a close distance, the arrows were nearly upon him as the bowstring twanged. Brendel hastily raised his hands to shield his face, chest, and lower abdomen. The blue glow of his protective gloves flickered slightly, deflecting the most precise arrows to the side with an expanding radiant light—though a few arrows still grazed his arms and thighs.
Brendel clenched his teeth, cursing inwardly. Although for him, a level 4 constitution meant that his muscles would automatically dissipate much of the force, converting what would be serious injuries into minor ones. What would have been external wounds became mere scrapes, and even lighter weapons would struggle to break his skin.
Yet the sensation of pain did not diminish at all.
However, usually, Brendel would have known that there were numerous guards ambushed on the second-floor corridor and might have immediately retreated to find another staircase to the other side. Although there would certainly be guards at the internal staircase of the castle, at least the terrain there wouldn’t be as treacherous.
But now things were different.
He swung his sword diagonally upwards, and a transparent ripple surged across the hall—there was a deafening crash as candelabras and vessels on the long dining table began to fall in the direction of the ripple, the chandelier on the ceiling exploded, and the railing in the corridor snapped in two—every guard on top was torn apart and fell.
The White Crow Swordsmanship, the court swordsmanship of Erluin, was a secret technique that could be learned by warrior class characters in the mid to early stages: the level 0 White Crow Swordsmanship could send blade winds six meters away from the sword, doubling the attacking cross-section. By level 25, it could strike enemies hundreds of meters away, nearly rivaling swordmasters who had awakened elemental powers.
Its consumption only required 3 stamina points from start to finish, which was minuscule compared to the enormous cost of awakening elemental powers. This was why so many people were attracted to intermediate skills back then.
Brendel’s astonishing strike created a momentary silence in the hall until the sound of broken wood falling from the second floor broke the stupor of everyone—
“Knight!”
“Temple Knight!”
“Oh Martha! Mr. Arpuno, let’s retreat!” the guards screamed, losing the will to resist, retreating in disorder.
The sword energy had left his body, marking one of the basic skills of a warrior who had awakened elemental powers. Traditionally, the Temple of Fire bestows formal knighthood to these individuals, and to distinguish between knights bestowed in various countries, they are also referred to as Temple Knights.
In front of a knight, the three-tiered power system was nothing, let alone ordinary people; unless one could deplete the opponent’s stamina, all attempts were in vain.
“Knights, my ass—!” Captain Arpuno yanked back a nearby subordinate, cursing internally. They must be court swordsmen—could it be that they had gotten caught up in a palace struggle? As a mercenary leader, he was naturally well-informed; he even knew what kind of close attendant that nobleman upstairs was. Being caught up in political struggles wasn’t a first for him, but it was the first time he had encountered a legendary court swordsman.
That was the top-tier court swordsmanship, one of the core powers mastered by the royalty. The fact that a mere low-rank black iron swordsman could unleash such power made Arpuno feel a twinge of jealousy.
However, as a mercenary, he still remembered his duty. He raised his head and surveyed the surroundings; most of the guards had already fled, while the rest were not merely bold; they were too frightened to move.
Brendel had just killed four men with that strike.
Arpuno didn’t have time to grieve; he stood up, gestured, and shouted, “Retreat! Retreat! Let the people on the staircase pull back. We can’t hold this level; we’ll go to the upper level.”
The remaining guards woke up and immediately exited through various doors. Some were so frightened that they even dropped their bows, nearly shedding their armor.
Seeing this scene disheartened Arpuno. “Damn, these aristocrats are such a nuisance—” he cursed, then turned back to his frightened attendant and slapped him twice to snap him out of his terror, angrily demanding, “You go report to the barracks in the castle! Sound the alarm, do you hear?”
“Sound the alarm? But the lord duke said that is to warn the whole city?” the attendant was taken aback.
“Damn! If the guest dies, we’re all finished, got it?”
The guard froze for a moment, then quickly nodded.
It must be said this attendant had some cleverness; fearing that there might be accomplices nearby, he dared not use the inner staircase and instead snuck down using a rope from the kitchen. Although it took a little time, it felt completely safe in his view.
He knew that Arpuno was counting on the small squad of white-maned infantry stationed on the other side of the castle to support the guards inside, which included a squad leader among the seven men. Although they usually looked down on one another, right now they hoped to see each other as soon as possible. But before this attendant could reach them, he was horrified to discover the corpses of two sentries in dark blue military uniforms lying in the courtyard—there were accomplices. He immediately realized this fact.
This attendant reacted quickly, almost immediately turning to run.
But he was a bit late. Just then, a white light shot out from the second floor of the barracks, piercing through his chest. The powerful magic arrow propelled the guard’s corpse forward for another seven or eight meters before crashing into a pine tree and coming to a stop.
Charles stood by a stone window, watching outside for a long time. After confirming that the man was dead and had no accomplices, he withdrew his gaze. He took out a pocket watch and looked at the rope of the bell that hung from the bell tower—it was still five minutes until the time agreed upon with Brendel.
Arpuno was unaware that the person he had sent out to report had already been killed, or that the small squad of white-maned infantry he had hoped for had been completely wiped out. He hoped that the remaining men could hold out a little longer until reinforcements arrived.
They were stationed at the stairway leading from the third floor to the second floor, with the guest rooms behind them; they had no retreat left. Although he usually looked down on them, he now envied the servants and lower servants, who at least could find a place to hide in fear. But as a guard captain, he could not.
If that lord earl were to die under his watch, he would probably have to change his name and flee to the mountains to become a bandit.
The young swordsman soon appeared in his line of sight.
Brendel estimated the time left to be a few minutes. However, he wiped the blood off his sword, thinking it should be enough. Yet as he looked at the line of over a dozen guards formed ahead, he found it somewhat strange—were these guys really that easy to defeat? He had expected a fierce battle.
He also noticed that the guard captain was at least mid-level among black iron swordsmen, so logically speaking, the opponents should have had the advantage, right?
However, Brendel clearly made a slight miscalculation, which was the advantage of skills. He had assumed that he would naturally have skills granted from the initial level and the first five levels thereafter, and others should be the same. But having grown accustomed to dealing with players, he had forgotten that this privilege belonged solely to players.
For most of the guards here, before joining the mercenary company, they were mostly local militia members who had learned some crude swordsmanship, and the remainder had gained experience through practical combat. Just like Arpuno; he came from a military background, learned Erluin’s military swordsmanship, and besides that, knew nothing else.
Of course, even if he understood this point, he would not hold back. He knew what that guest meant to these people, so neither side had any room for options.
The guards drew their bows and let loose a flurry of arrows.
Brendel raised his protective gloves to deflect these arrows at will, but in reality, he only needed to block Arpuno’s arrow. The other’s weak arrows posed no threat to him at all.
“First team, attack!” Seeing that the arrows were ineffective and the opposition was getting closer, Arpuno had no choice but to push his men forward.
He organized seven people, who inwardly cursed the opponents for their shamelessness and wondered why they weren’t attacking first themselves? They originally thought they would surely die this time, but as they charged forward, they suddenly felt a shadow sweep past them.
They instinctively turned back, surprised to find that the reaper had already circled around them to stand before their captain—
When Arpuno saw Brendel’s figure vanish from his sight, he realized something was wrong. He had previously fought against sun knights and knew that royal knights possessed a skill called Charge, which could instantly increase their burst speed. He felt a tingling sensation at the back of his head; countless combat experiences forced him to raise his sword forward, and with a clash of sparks, their swords indeed collided—
“Truly the strength of the mid-level black iron.”
Brendel thought to himself; the opponent’s strike came with almost no warning, and if it were in a game, he would also consider it a very seasoned swordsman. He remembered that around level 20, he had suffered greatly because of such NPCs who had leveled up in practical combat.
But that was then; this is now.
Brendel’s thoughts shifted, leaving no chance for the opponent to catch his breath, he pressed forward with another sword strike. This time was a burst of power, and Arpuno was nearly scared out of his wits. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person this kid was—court swordsmanship, knight techniques, and berserker power bursts—was there no justice in this world?
Even he, who had seen much and experienced a variety of things, couldn’t help but feel a chill in his heart. Luckily, he was somewhat well-informed; if it had been someone else, they likely would have died without knowing how.
Though Arpuno had intended to counterattack, upon seeing this strike, all his thoughts vanished. He directly took up the most turtle-like defensive posture. After their swords crossed, both swords bent backward to their extremes and emitted an unbearable, tooth-gritting tremor. Afterwards, Brendel fared better, while the guard captain staggered back seven steps, nearly landing on his backside.
Logically speaking, Arpuno’s strength as a mid-level black iron should have firmly suppressed Brendel, but now the situation was exactly the opposite.
This was the power of skills—
As Arpuno retreated, guards on both sides suddenly came to their senses, rushing in to attempt a sneak attack. But Brendel casually swung his sword backward, sending a wind blade soaring through the air, directly taking off a large head.
Then he stepped forward. Seeing this, Arpuno decisively cast aside his sword and shouted, “I surrender!”
No sooner had his voice faded than the alarm bells rang outside—
“Surrender means dropping your weapons and scramming!” Brendel barked.
The guards felt as if they had received a pardon, hastily tossing aside their weapons and fleeing for their lives. They were already so terrified they could barely move their limbs, and with their captain agreeing to surrender, they naturally lost all fighting spirit.
—————————————————————————————
PS: Apologies, I was out for dinner today and got a bit delayed.
