Chapter 302: Farewell

Though there were many wounded and fallen knights, everyone knew they couldn’t linger on the grasslands for long.

Even at the edge of the grasslands, no one dared guarantee those ghostly creatures wouldn’t strike again tonight.

So that afternoon, Henwell and the others set off, heading beyond the grasslands.

By dusk, they finally leave the grasslands behind.

As darkness falls, the group hears the eerie tearing sound of Fury Spirits breaching barriers.

Watching the Fury Spirits descend nearby, their hearts pound fiercely.

Fortunately, just like the legends say, these Fury Spirits can’t leave the grasslands.

They linger at the edge, watching from afar.

Seemingly aware they can’t pursue the humans further, the Fury Spirits pause, then slowly fade away.

Only then do the group’s tense nerves relax.

After yesterday’s brutal battle, if they’d been surrounded by Fury Spirits again today, few besides Henwell would have survived.

When the Fury Spirit threat disappears, the group doesn’t rest.

Instead, they gather wood piles and cremate the fallen knights.

What started as a hundred-strong force yesterday afternoon has already lost a third.

Among the group, including Henwell, there are fifty-nine warriors ranked knight or above.

Despite Henwell’s efforts to protect them and their seamless teamwork, seven died in last night’s fight.

Orak’s men lost five knights, and Henwell’s had two casualties.

The Golden Guard Knights suffered even worse—eighteen knights fell last night.

This morning, three more succumbed to their injuries.

Altogether, twenty-eight have died, and over half of the survivors bear varying wounds.

The two forces combined have fewer than seventy able-bodied fighters left.

With the weather warming, carrying bodies on the road is no longer feasible.

They must cremate the dead on the spot and carry their ashes away.

Twenty-eight pyres blaze fiercely.

Henwell removes his helmet and bows his head in silent tribute.

Everyone follows suit.

Regardless of their factions, they fought side by side last night.

Both sides helped each other whenever danger struck.

Now, beyond any nation’s borders, a strange bond forms among them.

It feels like a shared camaraderie forged in battle.

After a long moment of silence, Henwell lifts his head, pounds his right fist against his chest, then extends his arm forward and opens his hand, giving a crisp, standard military salute.

Turning to the heavily bandaged Obian, Henwell says, “Viscount, as you prepare to head back, I have a favor to ask. I want the ashes of my fallen brothers to be returned to Peace Haven, along with their nameplates.”

Obian reaches out, takes the seven nameplates carefully, and secures them with solemn respect.

“Don’t worry. I’ll personally deliver them to Peace Haven. My hometown isn’t far from there, and I need to return anyway to settle some old matters.”

Wacker, the king’s envoy, also salutes Henwell.

“Thank you, Lord of Blood Hill, for last night’s rescue. I swear on my life to ensure these items reach their destination. We Golden Guard Knights don’t break our word. What happened with Billie detaining the warriors’ remains, that kind of disgrace won’t happen again.”

During last night’s battle, Wacker commanded the knight squad that suffered heavy losses.

Because he hadn’t yet reached Battle Knight level, he struggled to hold the line when suddenly overwhelmed.

Obian risked his life to save that squad, not only out of compassion for his men but also to protect the king’s envoy.

Wacker is a trusted aide of King Baleqi of Ika.

Though having him alive might not always be beneficial, his death would blemish Obian’s mission.

That would seriously impact Obian’s chances for promotion.

Now that Wacker has agreed to Henwell’s request, it confirms Obian has successfully completed this mission.

Obian glances at Henwell, illuminated by the firelight, and asks, “Lord of Blood Hill, aren’t you going home?”

Henwell replies calmly, “There are some things I need to handle first. Going home will have to wait. I know things at home are fine, and that’s enough. My family knows I’m safe, so they won’t worry too much. I have my own matters to attend to, and they have their own plans to follow. If I grow stronger, that’s protection for them. They just need to take care of themselves.”

Obian falls silent for a moment before saying, “Your family will definitely work hard. I’m sure they won’t give you any reason to worry. With someone as capable as you, they must feel assured. They know what they need to do and won’t hold you back. I’m a few years older than you, so forgive me for saying this: no matter what challenges you face, always remember you have a family behind you. They will support you.”

No one doubts their conversation.

After last night’s battle, the bond between the two sides has clearly grown.

Henwell’s performance earned the respect of all the knights.

What Obian says to Henwell is just seen as the advice of an elder.

Henwell nods in response to Obian’s subtle reminder and promise. “I understand.”

After the fires burn out, everyone collects the ashes of the fallen knights.

They carefully place them into leather pouches, marking each one.

The group camps there for the night to rest.

The next day, it’s time to part ways.

Henwell and his group continue westward, while Obian leads his knights north along the border to return.

As they prepare to separate, Obian suddenly asks, “Henwell, I heard you’re getting married this year. Will you make it back in time?”

Henwell laughs, “Of course! There are still a few months before the Harvest Festival. I’ll definitely be back in Peace Haven by then!”

Obian continues, “I heard you’re marrying a duke’s daughter?”

“Yeah! She’s a wonderful person and will make a good wife.”

Obian nods, “Well, in terms of status, you are not as good as her. That’s quite a catch. Treat her well.”

Everyone else looks puzzled. How could that be considered Henwell are not as good as her?

Who is Henwell?

The Lord of Blood Hill!

The uncrowned king of Peace Haven.

A top young warrior commanding a mighty army.

The adopted son of the Duke of Vorry in the southwest.

Marrying a duke’s daughter, or even a princess, is hardly overreaching!

Henwell catches Obian’s meaning and chuckles lightly.

“It’s nothing to worry about. Our family is on the rise. Soon, we’ll reach even greater heights. It’s not overreaching at all.”

Everyone assumes Henwell is talking about the Phoenix family!