Chapter 139: Reunion

In a forest on the western side of Victor's fief, Nelson stood before a tall iron oak. He exhaled deeply, drawing power from his feet, channeling it up through his joints and spine, and finally unleashing it into his fist.

"Bang!" With a dull, thunderous thud, spiderweb-like cracks erupted across the thick trunk. The cracks spread rapidly until, with a sharp, agonizing groan, the iron oak finally crashed to the ground. As the dust settled, Nelson pulled back his arm and grinned broadly; this heart-stirring punch washed away months of hardship and replaced it with pure joy.

Looking at the shattered remains of the iron oak, Nelson felt a surge of emotion. He had endured immense pain over the past few days, persistently practicing the Secret Form of the Hidden Bull solely to enhance his strength.

As a warrior raised in a mercenary company, Nelson possessed an extraordinary thirst for power. Despite his exceptional physique, he had never received systematic training; all his martial arts were raw killing techniques passed down hand-to-hand by old mercenaries, skills he had pushed to their absolute limits.

Nelson had once believed he had reached his peak and would soon begin to decline with age. However, since he started practicing the Secret Form of the Hidden Bull, his explosive power had more than doubled. He was convinced that this secret art was a priceless treasure. Victor’s decision to teach it to him filled him with both awe and gratitude—awe at his lord’s unfathomable nature, and gratitude for being valued enough to receive such a precious gift. The implications left Nelson deeply moved.

Clenching his fist tightly, Nelson walked toward his hideout. The camp deep in the forest was primitive: cramped shelters made of branches covered in leaves, with a fire pit built from rubble in the center. There were no fences; everyone stationed here was a powerful warrior, accompanied by two fierce war mastiffs. Except for the ant-men, Nelson didn’t think anything in this region could threaten his group, and those ant-men were too busy devouring the purple sugarcane forest to ever enter the woods.

However, things were strange today; the camp was completely deserted. Usually, several seasoned warriors would monitor the ant swarm while others scavenged for food, but at least two men were always left to guard the camp. Nelson examined the surroundings with a grave expression. There were no signs of a struggle, and his gear had not been touched.

Could it be the knights of the York family? But why hadn't the war mastiffs raised an alarm? Remembering Victor's warning before he left, Nelson quickly donned his gear, grabbed his two battle axes, and followed the footprints left by the guards.

Just as he crested a hill, he heard the fawning whimpers of the war mastiffs and the footsteps of a large group of people. Nelson breathed a sigh of relief. "The mastiffs are showing affection—it must be Lord Victor’s troops."

Soon, several dozen well-equipped soldiers approached, escorting a knight clad in silver armor. Among them were the two companions who had been guarding the camp.

Nelson was startled. The armor on the knight was exquisite and ornate, with beautiful patterns clearly etched in mithril. This was a Silver-rank Great Knight!

Nelson thought with a mix of anxiety and excitement: "Could this be the Lord's true strength?"

"Nelson, what are you doing skulking around here?"

The familiar voice made Nelson’s eyes widen. He stammered, "Y-you, are you Lord Victor?! Are you... a Silver Knight?"

Pushing back his visor, Victor felt a thrill of satisfaction. This double-silver leather armor looked remarkably like mithril plate, and wearing it was certainly enough to pass for a Silver Knight.

"Come, let's go to your camp and talk," Victor said, feigning solemnity.

The camp was small. Thirty Spirit Monkey militiamen dispersed to the perimeter to stand guard. Victor sat on a tree stump while Nelson stood to the side, looking somewhat uneasy.

"Sit! Why are you standing there?" Victor gestured to a nearby stump. He was baffled by Nelson’s reverent attitude.

Nelson rubbed his head and sat down, though the ornate armor Victor wore put him under significant pressure. Usually, such magnificent mithril armor symbolized power and status, possessed only by lords who were both high-ranking nobles and Great Knights. Of course, this was just Nelson's assumption; in reality, Victor's armor was one-of-a-kind. Since Victor usually appeared very approachable, this sudden air of mystery left Nelson feeling uncomfortable.

"My Lord, are you really a Silver Knight?" Nelson asked cautiously, unable to contain his curiosity.

Victor shook his head. "Of course I'm not a Great Knight. This isn't plate armor, either—it's mithril leather armor."

"Ah!?" Nelson rubbed his eyes vigorously, calling out in disbelief.

"Don't make such a fuss," Victor said, snapping his fingers. A fully armed Spirit Monkey militiaman stepped forward. Victor pointed at him and said, "Look at his equipment."

Intricate, fine-link iron chainmail, a circular iron oak shield edged with refined iron, a sharp, cold spear, a crossbow with a pale, metallic sheen, and two refined iron short swords—the gear left Nelson speechless.

Accepting the refined iron short spear handed to him by the militiaman, Nelson stroked it over and over. "My Lord, I have never seen such fine equipment. Even the gear of the Tudor Kingdom’s Imperial Guard cannot compare to this."

Seeing Nelson’s immense envy, Victor smiled. "Everyone will have them; your equipment is already prepared."

A war mastiff pulling a dog cart trotted over, wagging its tail. Nelson jumped up, lifted the tarp on the cart, and his eyes locked onto the contents.

Two imposing refined iron one-handed battle axes lay there, their crescent blades shimmering with blue light, five vicious serrated teeth protruding from the back of the axes, and the handles covered in intricate patterns with miniature morning stars at the ends. There was also a six-meter-long two-handed battle axe, with a blade eighty centimeters long alone, colored a deep, cyan-black, exuding an aura of fierce, blood-soaked lethality.

However, what Nelson stared at most intently was a full suit of armor. Crafted from refined iron and colored a deep cyan-black, the armor was heavy, sturdy, and uniquely styled, its surface covered in exquisite patterns that set it apart from standard-issue gear—it was clearly a custom-made knight's suit.

"M-my Lord! Are these for me?" Nelson pointed to himself, his voice trembling.

"Of course," Victor replied. "This armor might need some adjustments. It’s made of refined iron and weighs 115 pounds. If you find it too heavy... well, it seems you won't need to change it."

Even as Victor spoke, Nelson had already donned the armor with astonishing speed. He jumped twice, excited, showing no signs of strain. He then lowered the visor of his helmet, picked up the 100-pound two-handed great axe, and walked to the center of the camp. He took a deep breath, his muscles bulging, and his body began to spin. The speed increased, the cyan-black axe light swirling into a vortex. The wind whistled with a shrill, piercing sound, and the chilling momentum was terrifying to behold. Nelson had finally successfully executed the combat skill: Whirlwind Slash.

Although the display was intimidating, it didn't escape Victor’s eyes. Within two seconds, Nelson had accelerated from slow to fast, spinning eight times with an attack radius of two meters. One could imagine the massive damage this skill could inflict when Nelson was surrounded by enemies. It was a desperate, all-or-nothing technique.

Nelson panted heavily, feeling an indescribable sense of satisfaction. He walked up to Victor with his battle axe, knelt on one knee, and said in a deep voice, "My Lord, I am willing to be the blade in your hand!"

Victor’s eyelid twitched. He touched his chin and thought, "This blockhead Nelson actually knows how to pledge his loyalty. He's not so stupid after all!"

Nelson wasn't particularly clever, but he possessed the wisdom of self-awareness. Although they hadn't known each other long, Victor never doubted Nelson's loyalty. It wasn't that Victor thought he possessed some aura of imperial majesty, but rather that both men understood they needed each other. Victor could provide Nelson with status, resources, and trust, while all Nelson could offer in return was loyalty.

Now that Victor had demonstrated his formidable power and given Nelson the chance to improve his strength along with custom-made gear, it meant favor and high regard. If Nelson hadn't shown his commitment after all that, he would truly be a fool.

Victor thought of Barol, who had also pledged his service. Barol, too, valued Victor's latent potential and hoped to secure a core position in his circle. The difference was that Nelson was simple but principled, while Barol was intelligent but never pledged loyalty, choosing instead to simply entrust his life to Victor. Yet, both shared a fundamental commonality: they wanted to realize their own value under Victor’s command. Nelson wanted to be a loyal, powerful warrior; Barol wanted to enjoy the life of a spy to the fullest.

Victor suddenly had a realization: everyone had their own aspirations. As a leader, one must have the capacity to embrace all, rather than quibble over whether subordinates were loyal. To receive, one must first give. As long as the organization he built could help its followers realize their value, it would continue to grow and thrive.

"It is my honor," Victor said solemnly, placing his hand on Nelson's shoulder.

"Sit down," Victor signaled for Nelson to sit, then asked, "This equipment weighs over a hundred kilograms in total. Do you feel it's too heavy or too stiff?"

Nelson felt the armor on his body and said happily, "It's not heavy! It's very flexible, much better than my old armor!"

Victor looked Nelson up and down and directly read his elemental attributes. Nelson’s physique attribute had actually reached 21, an increase of one point. This meant Nelson’s original physique hadn't reached its limit and he still had the potential for further growth. After a moment of envy and jealousy, Victor felt like he had found a treasure.

"Nelson, how is the effect of the Secret Form of the Hidden Bull?"

Nelson said proudly, "My Lord, my strength has increased significantly. My explosive power has at least doubled, and my body no longer spasms when I perform the Whirlwind Slash."

Victor nodded and scanned the Spirit Monkey militiamen practicing the simplified secret form. Regrettably, their elemental attributes had not increased. Victor asked one of the militiamen, "How is the effect of your secret form?"

The militiaman replied, "My Lord, my base strength has increased by 20%, my explosive power by 50%, and my stamina by 30%."

Victor’s heart skipped a beat. He threw a silver-thorium crossbow to the militiaman. "Draw it and let me see."

The militiaman easily pulled the silver-thorium bowstring into the groove. Victor was very satisfied. Although ordinary Spirit Monkey militiamen could draw the silver-thorium crossbow, it was never this easy. Clearly, the simplified secret form could improve the strength and stamina of the alchemical soldiers. Victor decided to have all the Spirit Monkey militiamen practice the simplified Secret Form of the Hidden Bull and to develop a simplified version of the Spirit Monkey secret form as soon as possible.

"Nelson, what is the situation with the ant-men now?" Victor asked, turning back to the warrior.

"My Lord, there are about 4,000 ant-men gathered on the banks of the Golden Water River, and another 2,000 or so scattered throughout the fief. Half of the purple sugarcane forest has been destroyed, especially the southern grove, which has been completely devoured," Nelson said bitterly.

Victor said coldly, "I returned to the fief for two reasons. First, I need to wait here for the Kingdom’s envoy. Second, I am going to kill every single ant-man leader."

"I have been waiting for this day," Nelson replied, his voice muffled as he gripped his murderous two-handed axe.

Victor patted Nelson on the shoulder. "You cannot engage the ant-man leaders in close combat. You will have to watch from the sidelines."

"Ah? My Lord, I can pin down the ant-man leader and provide you with a chance to shoot it."

"Someone else already has the job of pinning down the ant-man leader! Besides, if you go up there, I suspect you’ll just end up being the ant-man's shield."