CHAPTER 254: CHAPTER254-FRAMED

With each messenger’s report of the battle, a hint of the pervasive horse dung odor from the battlefield would enter.

Over time, having been exposed to the smell of horse dung repeatedly, the king’s chest pain intensified until he could no longer hold back a mouthful of fresh blood, startling the messenger with his cry.

By the time the medics arrived in response, the king’s eyes were blood-red, blood dripping from his mouth, and he had ceased breathing.

Thus ended the reign of a once formidable ruler.

The decisive battle between the two armies raged from dusk till dawn, with both sides suffering heavy losses.

The king’s two hundred thousand royal troops initially held the advantage in the early stages of the battle.

However, the sudden death of the king shifted the entire dynamic of the conflict, providing Norton’s rebel forces with a chance to recover.

In the command tent of Norton’s central army, the younger son Edward was reporting, "Father, the enemy’s assault is not as fierce as last night, but the enemy on our left flank remains our greatest concern. If we don’t clear out the enemy forces on our left, we will continue to be at a disadvantage."

Norton, seated in the place of honor, listened to his son’s report, which echoed his own concerns.

"Immediately lead thirty thousand light infantry in a raid on the king’s main camp. I want to see why the king’s army, despite having the upper hand last night, ceased their attack for several hours. I need you to confirm whether Blois’s plan has succeeded and if the king has died from the curse. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father. I will accomplish the task."

With that, he picked up his weapon, the Wind Splitter sword, and exited the grand tent.

Edward arrived in front of the assembled thirty thousand light infantrymen and loudly commanded, "All soldiers, follow me into battle."

The thirty thousand elite light infantry swiftly set out, stirring up dust and causing the ground to tremble slightly.

Mounted on a tall horse, Edward led his thirty thousand elite troops in a raid on the king’s main camp, with one goal in mind: to ascertain whether the king was dead.

The king’s main camp had been a frenzy of activity from the previous night until now, resembling ants on a hot pan.

"Report!"

Irritated by the messenger’s voice, Peter said, "Enter."

"General, the enemy has launched a raid with thirty thousand light infantrymen against our forces. The battle at the front is critical. Please give your orders."

"Alright, you may leave."

Turning to the people in the tent, Peter asked, "What shall we do now?"

A burly general with a face full of scars stepped forward and suggested, "General, what if we gather all our forces for a counterattack?"

Peter listened to his brave but not particularly astute general’s proposal and shook his head.

"No, announcing the king’s death now would demoralize the troops. On the other hand, if we don’t disclose the king’s demise, we will inevitably face trouble afterward."

"We’re in a predicament! Announcing it could jeopardize the entire battle strategy, yet failing to do so means even if we win, we won’t face good outcomes later, as concealing the news of the king’s death is a serious offense."

Hearing Peter’s words, everyone in the tent also showed faces full of dilemma, unsure of the best course of action.

After much deliberation, Peter decided to announce the king’s death, believing it was the only way to save himself.

Thus, the news of the king’s demise spread, leaving the fate of the Northern Mountain Empire uncertain in the wake of such a pivotal figure’s passing.

Upon hearing of the king’s death, the nobility were all somber.

"Alas, how could the king be gone? With the heir also on his deathbed, what upheavals lie ahead for the Northern Mountain Empire?" Marwan’s self-reflection resonated with the concerns of the other ministers.

At that moment, the Second Prince, dressed in a white dragon robe and accompanied by National Preceptor Blois, entered the grand hall.

He walked straight to the throne, touched the seat with a smirk, and then sat down, observing the nobles’ shocked expressions.

With a sneer, the Second Prince paused before asking, "What? Do you think I do not deserve to sit here?"

The nobles dared not respond, but Marwan, undeterred by the Second Prince’s audacity, rebuked, "How dare you! That seat is not yours to take. Step down, or else..."

Before Marwan could finish, Blois interrupted, "Or else what, Lord Marwan?"

Marwan shot Blois a glare and continued, "The throne is reserved for the king and the heir."

Before Marwan could finish, the Second Prince ordered, "Seize Marwan and behead him."

Shocked, Marwan could hardly believe the Second Prince would dare to execute a high official without the king or heir’s consent, especially since he was also a member of the Undercurrent.

He was promptly dragged out by the imperial guards waiting outside the grand hall.

"How dare you kill me! I am a member of the Undercurrent!"

Seated on the throne in the grand hall, the Second Prince looked down at the gathering of nobles below him.

Some wore expressions of terror, others of indignation.

However, none of that mattered now, for the entire military might of the empire was at his command, and no one could challenge his authority at this moment.

"Since the nobility have no objections, the coronation ceremony will be held tomorrow," he declared.

After speaking, he left the Northern Mountain Taihe Hall, accompanied by National Preceptor Blois and a greasy-faced attendant.

The nobles left in the hall buzzed with discussions after his departure.

Peter paced back and forth in his tent, clutching a secret letter from his brother Reiss.

Muttering under his breath, he said, "The Second Prince and National Preceptor Blois dared to conspire against me. While I fought valiantly at the front, they plotted behind my back for the throne. I will not let them go."

"General, with traitors and a weak ruler in the capital, why not lead us in rebellion?" suggested a loyal officer.

Peter, considering the proposal to rebel, was uncertain.

"To rebel, or not to rebel?"

Other officers chimed in, "Rebel, General! Our forces are evenly matched with Norton’s army. If we continue like this, interference from the capital will only demoralize our troops. We may not have the chance to rebel later."

Seeing his subordinates’ desire for rebellion, Peter weighed his options and finally decided.

If he did not rebel, neither he nor his brothers-in-arms, who had fought together through many campaigns, would see a good outcome.

"Alright, we rebel," he stated firmly, scanning the faces in the tent.

Hearing Peter’s decision to rebel, the officers rejoiced, their spirits lifted by the resolve in his voice.

Seeing the excitement on the faces of his loyal officers, Peter continued, "If we are to rebel, we must secure our own territory. All units are ordered to swiftly withdraw from the battlefield and head to the fertile lands not far from the Snow Realm. The defense force in the Fertile Lands is less than thirty thousand. We shall take down all thirty-two cities with the force of a thunderbolt."

Hearing Peter’s command, all the officers stood and responded in unison, "Yes, General."

...

In Norton’s camp.

"Report!"

"Enter."

"The enemy’s central army has completely withdrawn from the battlefield."

Hearing the messenger’s report, Norton was puzzled.

What trick is Peter playing now?

Edward, noticing the confusion on his father’s face, waved the messenger away.

"Father, since Peter’s one hundred thousand central troops have retreated, we now have the resources to deal with the remaining smaller enemy forces."

Norton was unsure of the reason behind Peter’s withdrawal from the battlefield.

He ordered, "Go and find out why Peter has left the battlefield. Be quick, opportunities in war are fleeting."

"Yes, Father."

Months later, thanks to Peter’s rebellion, Norton’s forces easily defeated the remaining one hundred thousand troops from the Northern Mountain Empire that had come to attack.

Incorporating a newly expanded army of five hundred thousand, they marched towards the capital.

...