https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-159-Oath-of-the-Dragon-Holy-Knight/13676319/
Chapter 160: The Shifting Tide
Thus, the twenty Lionheart Knights dispatched by the Bosk Duchy were utterly annihilated. Even Fried, the Black Lion Knight and one of the Seven Knight Lords, had fallen—turned traitor, now serving as a pawn of the Red Dragon.
The fate of the over a hundred Bicephalous Warriors sent by the Norton Duchy was even more惨烈. Kai Xiusu didn’t even deign to fight them personally. He merely issued a single Faction Quest, summoning a few Crimson Scale Conquerors, and effortlessly wiped out these so-called "elite" warriors—most of whom hadn’t even reached Professional status—leaving their charred remains to be devoured by the ravenous Two-Headed Dragons.
Kai Xiusu lay sprawled across the grand hall, eyes fixed on the Anzeta map before him, especially the tiny nation nestled beside the Kingdom of Ashen.
With Storm Ridge and the former Duchy of Lakanman united into one vast domain, the Kingdom of Ashen now stretched far beyond the territories of most Northern Duchies. In contrast, the Norton Duchy was nothing more than a worm—easily crushed beneath a single step.
Dailenna stood at his side, her lithe, serpentine form draped in formal attire, her face forever adorned with a radiant smile.
“Bosk Duchy is one thing,” she said, “but what in the name of the Abyss possessed Norton Duchy to keep provoking us? Again and again?”
Kai Xiusu’s voice carried quiet confusion.
Dailenna thought to herself: You’ve already demanded they surrender their so-called “International Stewardship Rights.” Of course they’d fight to the death. But she kept her expression polished, professional, and replied:
“Norton Duchy is small, weak—almost a vassal of Bosk. In fact, other Northern nobles mockingly refer to them as the ‘Duchy of Norton’ or even a ‘barbarian tribe.’ They’re not Scandian, like the rest of us. They’re the original inhabitants of the north—known as the Val Barbarians. Seven hundred years ago, Duke Aubric the Lionheart conquered this land. To simplify governance, he confined the surrendered tribes into a single nation, giving their chieftain clans the surname Norton.”
“Yet over the past four centuries, through deliberate assimilation by the Scandian nobility, their language, customs, and culture have become nearly indistinguishable from those of the Northern Kingdoms. Even the name ‘Norton’ is now accepted as noble.”
Kai Xiusu nodded slowly, realization dawning.
“So they’re just a well-trained dog Bosk keeps in the yard.”
Dailenna clapped her hands softly, grinning. “Your insight, Your Highness, is truly masterful.”
“So… what are your plans for Bosk Duchy—and Norton Duchy?”
Though Dailenna currently handled diplomatic affairs for the Kingdom of Ashen, she knew the final decision still rested with the Red Dragon. She wasn’t foolish enough to gamble her life or future for fleeting power.
Kai Xiusu closed his eyes, dredging through memories of his past life.
Bosk Duchy was too large—tens of thousands of square kilometers, twenty-eight cities. The Kingdom of Ashen, even with the former Duchy of Lakanman’s leadership, was still struggling to absorb its legacy. It wasn’t ready to govern such a vast territory.
And then there was the Holy Faedran Empire—still breathing its final breaths after the great rebellion. If he declared war on Bosk now, it would trigger a full-scale war across Anzeta. The Empire might send Legendary-tier forces in retaliation.
Meanwhile, Kai Xiusu’s own player count was pitiful—just a thousand, and those Internal Test Players would vanish for the next four years.
His original plan had been to unify the Northern Regions five years from now.
Yes—five years.
That was when The Great Collapse of the Holy Phaldran Empire would begin. The southern powers would descend upon the corpse of the fallen empire, too busy fighting each other to spare a glance northward. At that time, Kai Xiusu would have risen to Legendary Tier—armed with overwhelming strength. And the arrival of thirty thousand Official Players into Ailezegai would give him the manpower to recruit at least ten thousand loyal followers.
This plan had been debated countless times within the Kingdom of Ashen. It was now nearly flawless.
Then—timing, terrain, and fortune would all align.
He would declare war on Bosk Duchy and the other Northern Kingdoms, crushing them beneath a tide of fire and steel, uniting the North under his banner. He would become Co-Ruler of Anzeta, and bring every Player from the Northern Winds and Storms version under his command.
Then, the Kingdom of Ashen—no, the Empire—would march south, playing the role of the ultimate opportunist in The Age of Kings, swooping in to feast on the corpse of the fallen Holy Faedran Empire like the greediest vulture of all.
That was his strategy for Bosk Duchy.
As for Norton Duchy? They were weak, bordering the Kingdom of Ashen, and a vassal of Bosk. Perfect. They could serve as a Punishing One to Warn Others—a brutal example to deter other Northern Kingdoms from testing the Red Dragon’s patience. A localized war would also keep Bosk on edge, reminding them to stop their petty schemes.
With that, Kai Xiusu spoke, his voice like steel:
“Annihilate them—fast. Leave no time for the Northern Kingdoms to react.”
“I’ll slaughter Norton Duchy’s ‘chicken’—and show the rest of the monkeys what happens when they play with fire.”
Dailenna’s eyes lit up with fierce excitement.
She didn’t know the exact meaning of “Punishing One to Warn Others,” but she understood the intent perfectly.
What a glorious feeling—deciding the fate of entire nations. Those humans she once had to beg and flatter now knelt before her, begging for mercy.
“Yes, Master.” She knelt, her forked tongue flicking across her dry lips, eyes alight with anticipation.
The conquest of the Lakanman Duchy had been months past. The Kingdom of Ashen now functioned, barely. But the Dragon Vein Kin—those bloodthirsty creatures—had been cooped up for too long.
Yes, they were richer now, having seized all the nobles’ wealth. But compared to the thrill of blood and fire, wealth meant nothing. For a nation ruled by the Red Dragon, war was not a burden—it was a release.
Bosk Duchy. Stravburg.
As the capital of Bosk—and the nominal capital of the entire Northern Regions—Stravburg thrived with endless energy. The streets teemed with life, bustling with merchants, minstrels, noble heirs, and wanderers.
Suddenly, a commotion rippled through the crowd.
Above, two-headed dragons soared across the sky—beyond the reach of arrows. From their backs, flyers from the Kingdom of Ashen drifted down like snowflakes. The people had grown used to it—some even joked that the wind carried pamphlets like a natural force. A few were already being delivered at full gallop to Duke Leo’s estate.
But this time, the message wasn’t propaganda.
It was a war report.
The crowd gasped. Whispers turned to shock.
“Someone actually tried to assassinate the Red Dragon?”
“By the gods—what courage! A true act of justice. I must write a ballad in their honor.”
“Wait—our Lionheart Knights were completely annihilated? Twenty of them?!”
“Are we heading into war?”
“I don’t want to fight those monsters!”
People stood stunned, awed, frightened—each one transfixed by the news.
(End of Chapter)
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