The Lord Demon King is Unfathomable!

The Duke's Army's firepower was certainly ferocious, but their ammunition was not infinite, and they hadn't even issued such rifles to every soldier!

Moreover, large-scale engagement was different from small skirmishes; a force of this size couldn't possibly resupply in a short time. Once they ran out of ammunition, victory would still belong to the glorious Alliance Army!

They had not lost yet!

"Personal Guard! Charge with me!" Hanor roared, swung his War Blade, and led his Personal Guard under his command as they wheeled around.

He no longer chased those cuirassiers, nor did he bother with the collapsing flank, instead fixing his gaze on the continuous thunder of artillery opposite him.

With the entire army's morale on the verge of collapse, compared to those advancing line infantry, the distant cannons were clearly the greater threat!

Especially when their own guns fell silent, the enemy's roaring artillery fire could be even more lethal than the shells themselves!

Hanor's charge began.

As the strongest man in the army, he galloped like a golden bolt of lightning, Platinum-level Holy Light winding around his Armor.

He was a Martial Artist of the Temple Faction!

The Temple Faction's "Holy Power" differed from the Dragon Divine Sect's "Energy"; the latter emphasized the raw might of the "Energy" itself, while the former focused more on Protection and toughness!

The concentrated volley of bullets poured toward Hanor; the Duke's Army showed not the slightest mercy just because they saw his banner.

He likewise showed no mercy.

Hanor spurred his horse straight into the middle of that Hundred-man Team; a flash of sword light, and a dozen-odd heads went flying.

The surging firepower ceased in an instant; Hanor, emerging from the smoke like a soul-reaping Fierce Ghost, his eyes bulging wide, shattered the courage of the line infantry.

They too were Campbell people, no braver than the Campbell people opposite them—at most they were better equipped.

Facing that hero of former days, they even forgot how to fight with bayonet and blade, being cut down one after another by the blood-crazed Hanor.

The Personal Guard following General Hanor charged right behind him; thirty Cavalry plunged in like tigers into a flock of sheep, their pounding hooves kicking into the air those young men who tried to hold the formation.

A Hundred-man Team was pierced through in an instant!

A Platinum Level Transcendent was, after all, an Upper Extraordinary; far from anything ordinary Mortals could withstand.

In some distant bygone age, he alone would have been enough to carve through an army of ten thousand!

Unfortunately, the times had changed.

Just as Hanor locked onto the distant artillery position and was about to lead his Personal Guard forward with his War Blade, a shrill sound split the air.

The Martial Artist's instincts let Hanor immediately sense the deadly threat; almost reflexively, he slashed out a Holy strike, cleaving apart the shell flying toward him.

But as luck would have it, what had taken aim at him was not a single Cannon, but a full twelve Cannons!

The "insidious and cunning" Sir Wesley had long since fixed on his banner, certain that he meant to reverse the battle with his personal valor. So, in front of the old gun line he'd deployed twelve preloaded smoothbore cannon with shrapnel shells, simply waiting for Hanor to deliver himself.

In an instant, the blast of fire covered the spot where General Hanor stood; blazing shards of steel swept away the Personal Guard behind him.

It wasn't only his Personal Guard who fell.

He himself was included.

Even if he could withstand that terrifying barrage, his warhorse could not; it collapsed to the ground before it could even scream.

The Holy Barrier shattered on the spot, and a pained growl escaped Hanor's mouth. Dozens of razor-sharp fragments were driven deep into his Heavy Armor, tearing his flesh.

If not for his Platinum Level strength, he would likely have died under this point-blank artillery execution.

Even though he survived, he was left with only half a life.

Leaning on his broken Longsword stuck in the ground, Hanor staggered to his feet, his whole body soaked in blood, like a Demon climbing up out of the Abyss.

He was somewhat dazed.

His strength had clearly been improving all along, yet for some reason, he felt his Extraordinary Power was weaker than before.

…Why?

On the low hill, Sir Wesley held his breath as he watched; beside him, the Deputy Officer looked at him nervously, awaiting his order.

Just one salvo and they could send Campbell's hero on his way.

But should they really go that far?

Sir Wesley also felt some hesitation, but when he saw that look of seething hatred through the telescope, he knew he had no other choice.

Sir was different from Baron: it was a lifetime honor, not a hereditary Noble Title, and came with no fief corresponding to the title.

Although his knighthood had been granted by the Duke, the actual power he wielded was less than that of those Knights attached to a Baron.

Those fellows at least had fiefs, even if only a single village. He had nothing—only the honor bestowed by the late Duke and the current Duke's favor.

He didn't want to judge Campbell's hero with the worst possible malice, but if General Hanor survived and learned that he had been defeated by a "civilian officer"…

Civilians who offend Nobles never come to a good end!

Sir Wesley pondered for three seconds, then lowered the telescope and spoke in an icy tone.

"Send in Knight Bertrand Peg. For our Duchy, give our General a dignified end."

The Deputy Officer swallowed, but in the end still saluted loyally.

"Yes…"

Bertrand Peg was Edward's trusted aide, and among all the Personal Guard he was the only Gold Level Transcendent.

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