Chapter 410: Capturing Black Python Castle

For years, the lord of Wushan had lain gravely ill within his castle, unseen by the world. His first heir, Vincents, was a high-ranking knight devoid of true strength or wit; his grandson, even more so, an idle good-for-nothing with no ambition or talent…

Thus, for nearly two decades, the nobles of Auduin Kingdom had all but concluded that the House of Wushan was doomed to fall.

Yet before anyone could react—before the blink of an eye—the very family on the brink of collapse now radiated such overwhelming might that Broar felt it deep in his bones.

The Marquis of Thunder had cast off his illness, not only regaining his former glory but ascending further, becoming one of the rare Silver Moon Knights in all of Auduin.

And that worthless, talentless grandson? Now at least a Meteor Knight—and under twenty years of age! Such genius put even the crown prince to shame.

Beyond them, Wushan held two other seventh-rank transcendents: Meilongnica and Elron.

This apex power was no ordinary thing.

As for the lower ranks, Rolance no longer bled gold on medical expenses. With the marquisate’s substantial population base, his knightly corps could be rebuilt swiftly.

“Scream Island, Moonlight Valley, and the Duchy of Vera have long coveted the declining Wushan lands—never quiet these past years. Now that Wushan Castle rises again, they’ll surely suffer headaches.”

Broar believed delivering this news to Bruno would bring him joy.

Though Wushan’s strength was undeniable, three powerful noble houses surrounded it—no simple foes.

With pressures mounting both within and beyond the kingdom, having these nobles check each other instead of turning toward the throne was precisely what Bruno desired.

Broar’s reasoning was sound—but he had underestimated three individuals.

No—more accurately, two men and a dragon.

What would he think if he knew Ridal was Solar-tier, and McKen a Silver Moon Knight?

Meanwhile, Ridal and Kabir had already led the coalition army and Wushan’s two knightly legions beneath the walls of Black Serpent Keep.

“The Soul-Wraiths… terrifying!”

Before entering Black Serpent City, Karlby, Marvin, Vitorino, and others instinctively braced for ambush.

But in truth, from the grasslands all the way to the fortress gates, not a single trap awaited them.

Not even that—once inside the city, aside from fleeing figures near the outskirts, the closer they drew to the castle grounds, the emptier it became.

Clearly, every soul had been transformed into Soul-Wraiths.

Such monstrous methods unsettled the nobles’ hearts. They could only pray that Rolance and the others would crush these cruel aberrations utterly on the front lines.

Ridal sighed deeply. He remembered encountering this very horror in his past life.

The Soul-Wraiths’ ability to mass-produce soldiers, and their capacity to devour the souls and energies of their own kind to forcibly ascend a rank, had once plagued him endlessly.

The only way to prevent such horrors was vigilant surveillance—denying the Wraiths’ leaders access to humans for conversion.

“It seems Black Serpent Keep has no defenders left.”

Ridal glanced ahead. The few remaining Wraith sentinels meant nothing to him.

“Move in.”

He raised his sword, leapt across the wide moat in a single bound, swiftly cut down the guards, and lowered the drawbridge. Knights surged into the fortress like a tide.

The vast castle stood utterly empty, silent as a ghost town.

Yet this silence thrilled the invading knights.

A count’s stronghold—it must hold great wealth. Most would go to the crown, yes, but discreet takings were tacitly permitted.

In moments, everyone scrambled.

“You go too,” Ridal told Reg, sending his squad into the looting fray.

“Yes, sir!”

Since joining North Wushan, Reg had often heard Ridal’s name—knew there was a formidable commander stationed at Shoreline Fortress—but had never witnessed his power firsthand.

These past days, however, he’d seen enough.

Those trusted by the lord were never ordinary men.

Now, Reg felt more certain than ever that joining North Wushan early, following Ronin, had been the wisest choice of his life.

Had he delayed even a year or two, he likely wouldn’t have earned command of a small unit here.

“After this war, more and more will flock to Lord Ronin—competition will grow fierce.”

“I’ll grit my teeth and buy enhancement elixirs from Master Elron. Reach Silver rank soon—I’ll rise higher yet!”

Thinking of the elixir’s price, Reg burned with renewed vigor.

“Quick! Search thoroughly! Don’t let your comrades snatch the spoils!” he shouted.

Looting was one of their side profits. Yesterday on the battlefield, he’d already gathered coins, knightly swords, and armor.

The lord had said such things could be kept—rightfully theirs.

Ronin didn’t lack money. He still had hundreds of thousands of gold unspent. These petty gains? Let them slip. It mattered not.

More importantly, letting his people profit showed them war under his banner brought reward—fueling their eagerness to fight.

…

North Wushan Port.

The oak timber shipped from Rapids Island had long been unloaded. Captain Lucien and Captain Vic had already sailed away, along with Lis’s fleet.

Their mission: train the navy, and seize the chance to dismantle Ghost Tide Pirate’s northern island base.

Lord Ronin’s orders.

On this day, Amon oversaw the port’s construction and the excavation of channels for new docks, as usual—when suddenly, far northeast upon the sea, a ship emerged faintly on the horizon. Too distant to make out clearly.

“Damn my eyesight. I ought to beg noble Lord Ronin for one of those gadgets Lis carries.”

“Foreman, that’s called a telescope,” someone reminded.

Amon shot a glare. “Keep chiseling your stone, Lem. No one thinks you’re mute if you shut up!”

He cursed, then looked up again—the vessel’s outline sharpening.

“This ship moves fast.”

As distance closed, Amon made out its form.

No sails—rather, the masts seemed broken. Hull pocked with holes and dents.

Yet strangely, despite missing sails and battered body, it sailed not slowly at all.

“It’s heading straight for the port!”

Amon’s heart jolted. “Go—fetch Hamet!”

With Lis gone, Baron Hamet—the man who often delivered supplies here—was now the strongest presence.

“What is it, Amon?”

When Hamet arrived, the damaged ship had already docked at the makeshift pier.

He startled, instinctively fearing young Master Lis had returned wounded—then looked closer, realizing the hull differed from Lis’s vessel.

"What is this?"

Emmet ignored Hamet, his eyes fixed on the unexpected visitor.

"Good heavens— is this ship made of iron?"

His mind short-circuited. He knew iron was sometimes used to reinforce parts of a vessel, but an entire ship forged from iron? That was impossible.

Even if a blacksmith somehow welded two iron plates together through some special method, such a structure would snap in half at the first onslaught of ocean storms.

Yet the hull before him appeared truly to be iron.

"Be on guard!"

Hamet shouted. The two knights and seven or eight mounted soldiers accompanying him tensed, weapons ready.

Truth be told, if they were facing real enemies, his small retinue stood no chance.

"There's no need for such tension, my unfamiliar friend."

A clear voice rang out. Five figures emerged one by one onto the deck, led by a lady whose manner was both courteous and humble.

"Please rest assured—we mean no harm." (End of Chapter)