Chapter 405: Power of Corrosion

Though the enemy’s commander had already been slain by Ridal and Karlos, the battle still raged for a considerable time.

After all, the enemy outnumbered them; killing so many chickens would have taken effort—let alone cutting down men.

It wasn’t until the sun began to tilt westward that the fighting finally came to an end.

Except for Tane’s subordinates and a few ordinary humans who, realizing the tide had turned, dropped their weapons and knelt in surrender—thus sparing their lives—every last Wuhun warrior fought to the death, cut down without mercy.

“These mad beasts!”

Mavin cursed under his breath. Though victorious, he felt a chill crawl through his bones at the sight of enemies who charged like mindless, rabid animals, heedless of life or limb.

He silently thanked fate that most were mere commoners, not professional knights.

Had they all been knights—even mid- or high-tier ones—rushing forward with such suicidal fury, even he, a Silver Knight, would have been overwhelmed.

“How bad are the losses?” Roen asked as he approached.

Mavin grunted. “The higher-ranking knights are mostly fine. But our infantry took heavy casualties. The Hyde family are bastards—how dare they ally with such inhuman monsters!”

They all believed someone powerful from the Wuhun clan must be standing behind Osen.

Roen sighed—he’d just spoken with Rig. The knight squad from North U was in much the same state.

Sixty footmen, double-digit casualties.

“Roen!”

Kabil came running, his voice edged with panic.

Roen stiffened. “What is it?”

“Hurry—go see Sandro! During the fight, Omair’s blade slashed his arm. The wound won’t stop bleeding, and it’s getting worse!”

Everyone froze. Such a thing?

Roen understood somewhat—it was likely Sandro, like Ridal once before, had been tainted by the Wuhun’s corrupting power.

Sandro sat on the ground, teeth clenched against the pain. His fellow knights bandaged the wound, but it did little good.

“Sir,” Ridal reported, “it’s probably similar to what I went through. We’ll need Elron.”

“No need.”

Roen pulled out a spell scroll—*Purification*.

As the radiant light washed over Sandro’s arm, the creeping corruption near the wound vanished. The bleeding slowed, then stopped. The pain eased.

“Thank you, Roen. I owe you one.”

“We’re comrades. No debts between us.”

Roen glanced at the other wounded. They bore scars too, yet showed no signs of decay.

He wondered—perhaps this corrosive force only existed in Wuhun warriors of certain strength?

Common foot soldiers, cannon fodder—none displayed it. But Omair, a Silver Knight, possessed it.

In truth, Roen’s guess was close—but not quite right.

Among the three ranks created by Mephisto, only those who reached the second tier—“Frostbite”—wielded the power of corrosion.

Given the short time, producing so many “Shadowmist”-level Wuhun soldiers was already impressive. Only a handful had reached Frostbite.

Omair. Alan Hyde. Laurent. The three elite knights of Black Serpent City.

“Roen, what now?”

Sandro asked urgently. His wound ran deep—should another battle come, he wouldn’t be able to fight.

“We rest here tonight. Tomorrow, we march on Black Serpent City.”

Now that most of its forces had moved to the front lines, the city’s defenses would be weak.

With this army, Roen could seize the castle without difficulty.

Plans set, Roen assigned Ridal to lead the advance tomorrow, while he himself rode Karlos toward Rulans’ camp before nightfall.

The battle at Splendor City had ended, but Rulans’ front line had yet to engage.

By their pace, the two armies would meet on the open plains tomorrow afternoon—likely near the very field where Vinkins had lost his leg.

“Who goes there!”

This time, Roen didn’t hide Karlos’ form. After Splendor City, secrecy was pointless. No use masking with refracted light anymore.

So the moment Karlos landed, Brohl, Dorn, and Miloslav shouted in alarm.

Their senses were sharp—they felt the faint pressure radiating from the great beast, mistaking it for a night raid.

Roen leapt from the dragon’s back. “Stand down—it’s me!”

His eyes flickered to Brohl.

Dorn and Miloslav, being mages, had strong spiritual awareness. But Brohl, a Meteor Knight, also sensed it clearly—this man was no ordinary star-tier rider.

“Roen?”

Brohl stepped forward cautiously, stunned as he stared at the colossal creature before him.

“What… is this?”

Awe and curiosity warred within him.

“A dragon!”

Dorn and Miloslav, more worldly, recognized Karlos at once.

“To think such legendary beasts truly exist!”

“Roen, how did you bind it as your familiar? Do you have a Familiar Covenant Scroll?”

Roen smiled. “Karlos is indeed a dragon—but still a juvenile. That I found and tamed him was pure chance.”

Brohl mentally compared Karlos to his griffin. In size, in presence—the dragon seemed superior.

“How strong is it?”

He couldn’t help asking. “In knightly tales, dragons wield apocalyptic power. Is your Karlos… a Legendary-class beast?”

“Impossible!”

They really dared to dream. A Legendary dragon? Could he possibly control such a being?

“Karlos is still young. It took centuries just to reach sixth rank. At its natural pace, even another hundred years might not see it become a seventh-rank beast, let alone Legendary.”

Dorn nodded beside him. “Dragons do live long, but grow slowly.”

Brohl exhaled, relieved. Coming to Mountain Wu had truly broadened his horizons—not only encountering the strange “Wuhun people,” but now seeing a real dragon.

If Mountain Wu already had two Meteor Knights, and this dragon someday reached seventh rank or beyond, their elite strength would rival the kingdom’s top noble houses.

Mountain Wu would rise again—feared anew.

Fortunately, it was still a juvenile. Its power limited. Probably not much stronger than a griffin.

Only then did Rulans emerge from his tent.

“Since Luoning has come, does that mean the battle at Splendor City has ended?”

The group’s attention slowly shifted away from the dragon, though their eyes still flickered toward it now and then.

“It’s over, Grandfather. We’ve won decisively. I’ve ordered the troops to rest in place, and we’ll march on Black Serpent Fortress tomorrow.”

Luoning continued, “Barrington, Taine, Oumar, and many knights under Black Serpent City—all perished in this battle.”

Hearing this, the others relaxed visibly.

“Well done!”

Rulans clapped Luoning on the shoulder, deeply gratified.

Yet, thinking of those who had died, a sigh escaped him.

He knew all those names—some he’d even met long ago.

Taine, for instance, left a strong impression. Once, on the battlefield, he had been a figure of some renown.

Now they were all gone—how swiftly life had ended for them, perhaps beyond what any had imagined.

“This time, I came mainly to deliver intelligence.”

Luoning recounted how Barrington had blown a horn, awakening latent power within ordinary soldiers.

This immediately set everyone on edge.

“That is an abomination!” declared Dao’en.

Miloroslav nodded in agreement. “Indeed an abomination. And the Soul-Witch tribe—such beings should not exist in this world. They are a threat to us all!”

“My lord marquis, the mastermind behind Black Serpent City’s Orsen—we must capture him this time!”

His voice was firm. “Their existence poses a grave danger to every noble house, to our entire kingdom of Odouin!”

The very idea of turning ordinary men into puppets was abhorrent and terrifying. Even worse was their ability to mass-produce such horrors, and to empower them with cursed artifacts.

If allowed to grow unchecked, the consequences were too dreadful to contemplate.

“I understand.”

Rulans was more anxious than Bro’er—for the hidden hand operated within his own Wushan Territory.

If they failed to seize it now, who would be the next noble victim?

One or two more strikes, and his domain would be ruined!

“Tomorrow, we take Orsen alive,” he said grimly. “And make him reveal everything.” (End of Chapter)