Chapter 361 - 347: Great Power (Part 2)

Chapter 361: Chapter 347: Great Power (Part 2)

Coming from King Morne, these words carried immense weight.

The tent immediately fell silent.

Gloria looked at Roland, her surprise mixed with a deeper, more probing curiosity.

Although she knew Roland was powerful, she never expected her own father to give him such high praise.

The Duke, who had been stroking his chin, paused. He began to size Roland up all over again.

He had originally seen Roland as merely a promising young Knight under Gloria’s command, but now he had to re-evaluate his worth and his position on the chessboard.

For His Majesty Morne to use words like "interesting" and "extraordinary fortune" to describe someone... the implications behind that were no small matter.

Roland could clearly feel the shift in the gazes of the others in the tent. It was a complex mix of shock, scrutiny, and re-evaluation.

King Morne’s few casual words were like a powerful spotlight, thrusting him completely onto center stage.

They laid the astonishing fact of his rapid growth bare before the highest echelons of power in the Kingdom.

Just as the atmosphere grew delicate from Morne’s praise, the clear, hurried sound of footsteps approached from outside the tent.

Growing louder as they drew near, they swiftly shattered the silence within.

The tent flap was thrown open violently, and a messenger knelt on one knee, reporting breathlessly.

"Your Majesty! The defenders of Rift Rock Pass... they refuse to surrender!"

The gentle smile remained on Morne’s face, but Roland, standing near him, sharply sensed the temperature of the air seem to drop several degrees.

The King’s voice was steady, betraying no hint of emotion.

"Did you not tell them I had arrived?"

"I-I did!"

The messenger’s voice was filled with terror.

"The commander of the pass, Viscount Clinton... he said... he said he only follows the direct orders of the regent in the Royal Capital, Prince Lucius. Without a written command, he regrets he cannot comply..."

Morne let out a soft "Oh?" and nodded.

That faint smile was even still on his face, but everyone in the tent felt an invisible pressure suddenly descend, making it hard to breathe.

"It seems..." Morne’s tone was still level, yet it was like a dark river flowing beneath a layer of ice. "These fools truly need to be taught a lesson. They’ve completely forgotten the basic chain of command."

He said nothing more, turning and striding purposefully out of the tent. Enrique followed close behind.

Roland exchanged glances with the others in the tent before they all followed.

The group arrived at the front of the army camp. The magnificent Rift Rock Pass stood like a cold giant between the narrow valley walls.

Banners fluttered on the fortress walls, and the cold glint of steel shone from behind the arrow slits. The pass was on high alert.

Morne walked alone, slowly approaching the edge of the fortress’s effective bow and arrow range before stopping.

He looked up, his gaze calm as it fell upon the slightly chubby figure in ornate Armor at the highest point of the wall.

"Clinton!"

Morne’s voice wasn’t particularly loud, yet it carried clearly across the entire battlefield, filled with an authority that permitted no doubt.

"I am here. Open the gate."

On the wall, Viscount Clinton’s body trembled visibly, and his face instantly turned deathly pale.

But thinking of the uncompromising order from the higher-ups in his family, he forced himself to swallow, propped himself against the battlements, and shouted in a trembling voice.

"Your... Your Majesty! It is not that this servant dares to disobey! It’s just... His Highness Lucius gave a strict order! Without his written command, no one is to open the gate! This... this servant is merely following orders! Perhaps... perhaps you would allow this servant to send a fast horse to the Royal Capital to ask for instructions..."

He stammered, his eyes darting about. Anyone could see the fear and helplessness hidden behind his clumsy excuse.

Morne listened quietly, his face expressionless.

When Clinton’s voice trailed off, he simply let out a soft, mocking snort.

"Trying... to stall for time?"

Before the words had even faded, Morne’s feet pressed down slightly where he stood.

There was no earth-shattering sound, no dust kicked into the air. The ground beneath his feet didn’t even show a noticeable crack.

But in the next moment, his entire burly frame shot into the sky as if freed from gravity itself, casually ascending to a height from which he could look down on all of Rift Rock Pass.

The sunlight outlined his figure suspended in mid-air, making him look like one of the Deities descending to the mortal realm.

Under the watchful eyes of all, Morne slowly drew the unremarkable, even crudely made, Longsword from his waist.

However, the instant the Longsword left its sheath...

HUMMM!

An indescribably terrifying pressure suddenly descended upon the world.

A silver Fighting Spirit, so tangible it was visible to the naked eye, erupted from Morne’s body like a bursting flood and poured madly into the seemingly ordinary Longsword.

The Longsword let out a joyful, excited hum, its blade instantly stained a dazzling silver, as if forged from pure moonlight.

Below, everyone—be it the defenders on the pass or the allied forces below it—was frozen in awe by this miraculous sight.

Gloria covered her mouth, the Duke’s pupils constricted, and Enrique’s eyes shone with a fanatical light.

Roland stared up, and even with his current insight and Perception, he felt his heart palpitate with fear.

That Power was as vast as the ocean, deep and unfathomable.

In the air, Morne’s expression remained calm, as if he were about to perform some trivial task.

He gripped the sword with both hands, faced the mighty fortress below, faced those fools who dared to defy his will, and brought it down in a simple, direct swing.

No flashy moves, no complex trajectory—only the purest release of Power!

BOOM!

A colossal silver beam of Sword Qi, spanning the heavens, shot forth like a whip swung by a god, or a blade of light cleaving the very sky.

It roared from the edge of his blade, carrying with it a will of Destruction bent on tearing everything apart.

Where the Sword Qi passed, the air was displaced, creating a deafening sonic boom. The unseen pressure carved a deep trench into the ground below.

The Sword Qi moved faster than the naked eye could follow.

In Viscount Clinton’s gaze, which was filled with ultimate terror, in the instant before he could even let out a final, despairing wail...

...the silver torrent of destruction had already swallowed him and the watchtower where he stood.

Then, without any resistance, as if tearing through rotten wood, it slammed into the massive body of Rift Rock Pass, built from the hardest greenschist.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze.

The next, only one sound remained in the world.

The earth-shattering, mountain-rending roar.

The majestic Rift Rock Pass was split cleanly in two, straight down the center of its main wall, by that silver Sword Qi.

A massive fissure several meters wide ran through the fortress, its sides as smooth as a mirror.

The watchtower collapsed, the fortress walls crumbled, and rubble rained down like a torrential storm.

Behind the pass, the Sword Qi’s momentum didn’t wane, even carving a terrifying gash into the mountain ridge behind it.

Dust shot into the sky, filling the entire valley.