General Warren Yu was a commander forged in the fires of war; his murderous aura could make children cry and send tigers and wolves fleeing. Now, as he glared coldly and bloodthirstily at the Night City officers, how could they not be afraid?
The Night City officers felt a surge of fear. To bolster their courage, one of them deliberately rode forward, straightened his back, and laughed arrogantly: "Just a dog—Night City doesn't care. We don't fear the dog's master, so why would we fear a little dog like you?"
"Little dog, come on, bark for us."
"Courting death!" General Warren Yu gripped his long spear so tightly that the veins on his hands bulged, and his teeth ground audibly. When would Ninth Royal Uncle arrive? He was nearly at his breaking point.
He finally understood why Ninth Royal Uncle insisted Night City must be the first to fall—these people were truly begging for a beating.
"Simple-minded, all brawn and no brains. I only hope you don't back down from a fight." The angrier General Warren Yu grew, the more satisfied Prince Damien of Southlyn became—he wanted all of Eastlyn thrown into chaos, then strike when they were least prepared.
The glory of Eastlyn Nine was about to end.
With a single gesture from Prince Damien, a thunderous crash rang out as ten iron war-wagons appeared behind the city walls. These were his trump cards—his weapons of guaranteed victory.
These war-wagons were the bane of Eastlyn's soldiers—normally only one would appear on the field, but now, with ten rolling out at once, Eastlyn's troops would probably lose heart before the battle even began.
"Have Old Gray prepare." Prince Damien's thin lips parted, issuing a chilling command.
With Ninth Royal Uncle poisoned, ten war-wagons anchoring the field, and General Warren Yu dying on the spot, Eastlyn's soldiers would surely collapse in chaos.
Each step linked to the next—Prince Damien's flawless strategy was systematically shattering Eastlyn's morale. He only needed Warren Yu to lose his temper and order a reckless assault, so the Eastlyn troops would charge right into the war-wagons' killing range...
Warren Yu knew it was a provocation, but the fury burning in his chest made him want to ignore everything and just give the order to attack.
It had been years since anyone dared call him a master-betraying dog to his face. The last person who did wasn't even left with bones to be found.
Night City must be destroyed!
Prince Damien must die!
Unable to bear it any longer, Warren Yu raised his right hand to order the attack. Just then, a gray shadow suddenly flew down from the city wall, streaking toward him at lightning speed.
Halfway down, a flash of silver gleamed—the gray shadow was suddenly right in front of Warren Yu. He reacted too slowly; by the time he realized, they were face to face, and his long spear was useless at such close range.
"General, look out!"
Warren Yu's bodyguards were shattered with fear and rushed forward, but it was already too late.
"No... General!"
Hundreds of thousands of Eastlyn troops could only watch, powerless to stop what was coming...
General Warren Yu froze, as if trapped in a nightmare—none of it felt real.
Was this how it ended? Was General Warren Yu really about to die here—humiliated, cut down in front of everyone?
His eyes widened in disbelief. Just as Warren Yu braced for death, a figure darted in front of him—clang! Metal met metal, and the shock yanked him back to reality.
He wasn't dead—he'd survived!
Having stared down death, Warren Yu broke out in a cold sweat. His bronze face was drained of color, as if doused in ice water—instantly, his mind snapped into razor-sharp clarity.
"Trying to play assassin in front of me? I'm the ancestor of assassins! Your tricks are pathetic. Today, I'll show you what it means to kill within ten steps and vanish a thousand miles away."
As Warren Yu snapped back to himself, he caught Dorian Owen's arrogant, show-off voice. For the first time, he found Dorian's bratty pride almost adorable—he even wanted to grab the kid's chubby cheeks and give him a proper compliment.
"Why are you all still standing there? Arrest him!" Warren Yu barked at his dazed bodyguards, snapping them back to reality. At last, they surrounded Old Gray.
The assassination attempt ignited all of Warren Yu's murderous rage. On the spot, he gave the order: "Attack!"
With a thunderous roar, Eastlyn's cavalry lined up in formation. Just then, Night City's gates swung open, revealing a dense, ominous mass before the Eastlyn troops.
Rumble... Rumble...
Two war-wagons per row, they rolled onto the battlefield in perfect order.
"N-Night City's war-wagons!" The soldiers in front swallowed hard and instinctively stepped back. Seeing this, those behind them also retreated, nervously asking, "What's happening up there?"
"It's Night City's deadly war-wagons—so many of them..." The Eastlyn soldiers had suffered at their hands before. Seeing the war-wagons, their fear was instinctive, and now, with dozens appearing at once, it was overwhelming.
"We're doomed. We're finished. Even the Prince Regent is dying—how can we possibly win?" Eastlyn's soldiers' confidence crumbled, one by one. Perhaps Night City wouldn't need to fight at all; Eastlyn would lose without a battle.
"Fall back, fall back! Night City's war-wagons—there are so many!" Someone shouted, and chaos erupted among Eastlyn's troops. Yet they remembered their duty: even with trembling legs, none dared flee. Desertion meant execution.
"We can't win. There's no way we can win." Their refusal to flee didn't mean they weren't afraid.
"Damn it." Warren Yu was stunned too. After fighting Night City for so long, he had no idea they possessed so many war-wagons. Was this meant to destroy them all?