Wangquan

"Prepare for three volleys of artillery!" Bazhe shouted, brimming with high spirits. Over a dozen heavy magical cannons were arrayed across the battery, their pitch-black muzzles aimed at the sky. Before them stood city walls battered into craters and rubble, along with garrison troops scared out of their wits and knights covered in grime and soot. This was Cyril City, a key military bastion in the Principality of Otto and the realm's second most populous city. At this moment, however, the air everywhere reeked of smoke and ash. Beside him, Fengyun waved a hand and said, "Guild Master, let's hold off for now. We need to keep more prisoners. The factories under us have had labor shortages lately." "For that kind of work, natives are much more useful anyway. Hiring players is too expensive, and they don't follow orders. Newbie players these days are way too sharp; if we don't hike their wages, they won't even show up." Bazhe pondered for a moment, then nodded. "Fair point." "Then have the spell and melee squads get ready. Oh, and tell those wyvern knights to show some restraint—don't burn too many people to cinders." "Yes, Guild Master." Today, Wangquan was a powerhouse guild of nearly a thousand members, a renowned titan where almost everyone was a level-five or higher classed individual, with the rest possessing standout talents or specialized skills. To contest the Conquering the Northlands campaign, Bazhe had urgently mobilized nearly six hundred members, deploying practically everyone outside essential logistics departments onto the battlefield. This massive force of classed individuals had already stormed thirteen cities in succession; ordinary Northlands garrisons stood no chance of halting their devastating march. Aside from exceptional orders like the Lionheart Knights, even in the Northlands' most elite armies, the average soldier's strength was roughly equivalent to a level-one classed individual. A level-five classed individual was qualified enough to become an esteemed knight or even a general in any Northlands army. The might of an organized force made up of players at that caliber was easily imagined. "Wizards, hit us with a wave of Mass Inspire! Bards, tag the enemy with Faerie Fire!" "Fighters, pop your shields and push forward! Remember, everyone: if they surrender, don't kill them! The guild is handing out gold coins based on the prisoner count, and capturing the earl alive comes with an extra bonus!" Fengyun bellowed across the battlefield through a megaphone. "For Wangquan!" "Glory to Wangquan! Immortality to heroes!" Two hundred players surged toward the distant city in a grand tide. Melee classes like fighters and paladins charged headlong, while spellcasters like wizards and sorcerers conjured dazzling, wondrous spell effects. Druids summoned a variety of beasts, and bards cast their spells by strumming instruments. For a time, the luminous glows of diverse spells flashed together beneath the city walls. Flaming arrows, splashing acid, falling stones, and even flying squirrels pelted the walls one after another. The commander atop the walls roared, "Do not fear! Kill them! Fight for the Principality of Otto! Defend the city behind us!" "They are flesh and blood just like us!" "Without those bizarre weapons, they might not even best us!" "Load the heavy ballistas!" As a vital military stronghold, the walls were mounted with several heavy ballistas intended to ward off frost giants and white dragons. Now, the soldiers turned them against these Starfallen. "Faerie Fire!" The bards played their tunes, and violet radiance surged from their violin strings, outlining every defender in vibrant silhouettes. Several high-level wizards of Wangquan raised their staves in unison. "Slow!" In an instant, the space along the battlements distorted, and the soldiers' movements turned painfully sluggish, as if moving in slow motion. Meanwhile, a dragon-blessed paladin buffed with Fly and Haste leaped directly onto the battlements, swinging a sword wreathed in crimson flames to cleave off the roaring commander's head. The soldiers watched in horror as their commander was slain, yet trapped in the slowed space, they were powerless to react. "Surrender and live!" Holding the still-warm head aloft, the dragon-blessed paladin stood atop the gate tower and yelled at the top of his lungs. Gazing up at the figures swarming forward, the soldiers were plunged into utter despair. They knew the battle was drawing to a close—all was lost. ... Before long, the members of Wangquan had overrun the entire city, easily securing the town hall, armory, and other key installations. Earl Jules Reginaldo, the lord of the city, had fled south early on with his valuables and a convoy of over a hundred people. Wangquan, however, counted several Redscale Conquerors among its ranks. No matter how swiftly four-legged steeds galloped, they were no match for winged flight. The earl and his convoy were quickly spotted and wiped out by wyvern knights. Earl Jules himself was captured alive, wailing ceaselessly as a wyvern hoisted him through the air in its talons. "Behave yourself, stop squirming." "Or I'll kill you." Dadao touched down on his wyvern and hauled the earl up with one hand. Earl Jules immediately went still, though his rotund body trembled uncontrollably. Supposedly, these evil dragon scions killed nobles without batting an eye, lopping off even a marquess's head without a second thought. Yet they had spared his life. Could it be that they had finally realized they could never firmly govern the Northlands without the nobility, and wanted to seek his cooperation instead? A flicker of relief flashed through Earl Jules's eyes. "Here we are." "Guild Master, I brought him in." Dadao tossed him carelessly onto the ground. *Ill-mannered scum. Once I regain my standing, you're the first one I'll ruin,* Earl Jules thought vindictively, his gaze turning dark and sinister. Struggling to his feet, he saw a tall, commanding man not far away. The man rested a greatsword across his shoulder and wore an ornate suit of heavy armor. Upon spotting the earl, the man's face lit up with delight. *He must be the leader of these evil dragon scions...* *Right now, my life and fortune are entirely in his hands. If I want future cooperation, I should do everything I can to please him.* At this thought, Earl Jules plastered a fawning smile across his face. "Honored sir, I am Jules Regina—" *Slash!* Before he could finish, Bazhe swung his greatsword straight through him. Brain matter splattered instantly as blubbery flesh was cleaved open, sending a gruesome jumble of entrails and organs spilling across the ground. In his final moments, Earl Jules's face still held that servile grin, but his eyes were filled with shock and utter disbelief. Even in death, he could not fathom it. This man had sent someone chasing across vast distances just to drag him back so he could kill him personally. It made no sense at all! Wiping his greatsword, Bazhe glanced with mild distaste at the bloody mess on the ground. "Next time, I'd better just take off the head." "Disgusting. Clean this up." He gave a casual order to his subordinates, then checked his status panel, his face brightening once more. [You have slain Earl Jules Reginaldo, a key figure of the Northern United Kingdom faction. Received 120 Faction Reputation.] Their entire guild had poured everything into funneling reputation onto him so he could qualify for the dragonblood nobility. Fengyun smiled beside him and said, "Guild Master, at this rate, by the time the mission ends, you should at least meet the reputation requirement for a viscount—or maybe even make a reach for earl." "Haha! Onward to the next city! In ten thousand years, who writes the tale? Eight thousand li away, I shall win my title!" Bazhe threw his arms wide and laughed heartily. Beside him, Fengyun wiped the sweat from his brow, inwardly grumbling: *The entire guild is busting its back just to boost your reputation, yet here you are putting on such grand airs.*