Pioneer Lord: I Have Conquering System

Winter passed into spring, and now in June, the dense, calf-high grasses of Debei swayed in the wind. The Lord lay prone in the grass, binoculars in hand, watching the Demons swarming at the bottom of the slope like a tide of ants.

The location they chose for their encampment was peculiar. From a practical standpoint, it blocked the howling winds, which would keep their unclothed bodies from the cold.

Many merchant caravans would also choose such a leeward slope when making camp. It was a type of campsite beloved by their guards.

From a military perspective, however, only a moron whose brain had been eaten by a Goblin would do such a thing.

All it would take was a single squadron of Heavy Armor cavalry charging down the gentle slope into the undefended basin to make them regret their decision.

As it happened, the Lord had not just a squadron of cavalry, but an enhanced version of one. Once the Centaurs—weighing several thousand pounds with their armor—began their charge down the slope, the resulting power would be an unstoppable, spectacular sight.

"Lord, what’s the plan? Their numbers are nearly seven times ours." Fujero was also lying prone in the grass, his brow furrowed. The pervasive stench of sulfur in the air was almost too much for him to bear.

In truth, he didn’t understand why the Lord of High Cliff Castle insisted on personally conducting reconnaissance from the grass. But knowing the Lord’s military talent for small-scale battles was considered nearly unparalleled, he figured the action must have some deeper meaning and decided to follow suit.

Levi observed the enemy army, wondering how such a ragtag force had managed to annihilate Andao and his two thousand elite cavalry.

The scouts they sent out were merely Little Demons with combat strength comparable to Goblins, easily dealt with by the Jackal Wolf Scouts. Their camp layout, and everything else, showed them to be complete amateurs.

The only thing worthy of praise was their strategy in the night raid on Kolon.

But when he saw the figures at the very center of the Demon encampment, he began to understand.

They were a group of seven or eight Demons, each possessing six arms. Their cold expressions kept the lower-ranking Little Demons and Babu Demons from daring to approach. Their lower bodies were thick serpentine tails, covered in neat rows of earth-brown scales.

These Demons stood a full three blades high, like Samurai from myth. Their bodies were like iron tempered a thousand times over, as if the collective martial prowess of all Demons was concentrated in them.

They wore Armor woven from the carapaces of unknown beasts and animal sinew. Their six arms brandished various weapons—Longswords, War Axes, Bone Rods, and more. A destructive light glittered in their eyes, and wherever their gaze fell, other Demons cowered and prostrated themselves on the ground.

These were the Six-armed Snake Demons, famed even in the pages of the Abyssal History Book.

Among Demons, the Six-armed Snake Demon held a status comparable to that of a Knight proficient in Combat Qi among humans, a Red Dragon among the Five-Colored Dragons, or a Thunder Giant among Giants. They were the most valiant Samurai of their kind, the most outstanding Warriors.

It was said these Six-armed Snake Demons were all Weapon Masters, proficient with all manner of weapons and even capable of using Magic.

However, whether they truly lived up to the legends was something one could only learn by testing them firsthand.

"Do we even need to discuss a plan?" Levi lowered his binoculars. "The Heavy Centaur Cavalry will repeatedly charge through their lines to shatter their morale. Once they scatter and flee, the light cavalry will pursue and finish them off. Total annihilation."

"If you do the math, it’s only six or seven Demons per person. Probably even less, in fact."

Levi patted Fujero’s shoulder and asked with a dubious look, "Old Fu, don’t tell me you can’t handle a few Demons?"

At this, Fujero was left speechless. He could only nod fiercely. "Fine, let’s do it!"

If he had been in command, facing an enemy force nearly seven times his own, he would never have attempted a direct engagement, even with an all-cavalry force. He would have notified the main army, contained the enemy, and waited for reinforcements.

But with the illustrious Lord of High Cliff Castle leading the way, a man with a dazzling track record, he felt the disparity in numbers wasn’t so daunting after all.

The enemy had clearly just finished plundering a village. The Demons were voraciously tearing into their food, which naturally consisted of various livestock and humans.

These freemen from the other villages were clearly not as fortunate as those from Yada.

Levi rose from the grass, buckled on his Iron Helmet, and strode toward the rear with a powerful, commanding stride.

Curved Sabers were drawn, Armor clattered, and the heavy thud of hooves was a pleasing sound. Squadron after squadron of Centaur Warriors, savage grins in their eyes, looked like Black Armored Warriors from an ancient era, filling the world with a grim, bone-chilling killing intent.

"My Lord." Gus dragged a massive Double-Bladed Broadsword, his expression as calm as a still lake. But the pawing of his hooves betrayed the restlessness churning within him.

Ever since they had come south, he had been eager to display the martial prowess of the Centaur Race. Unfortunately, they had only faced siege battles, where their physique limited them to patrol duty or providing support with Bow and Arrow.

Now that it was finally their turn to take action, how could he possibly feel no excitement at all?

More importantly, the Gift of the War God had made him obsessed with increasing his power, and he had long craved the chance to build his ladder to promotion with the blood of his enemies.

"My Lord, everyone’s ready," Hog said with a slight bow. Behind him stood the Jackal Wolfman Cavalry, Curved Sabers in hand.

"These bastards are going to regret ever coming to this world."

Levi vaulted onto Biefeng. Its three wolf heads let out a ferocious, low roar. He brandished his Longsword:

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