Chapter 161: Fall of the City

At the break of dawn, the darkness should have been torn asunder, giving way to a surge of light. Yet at this very moment, the scene upon the earth starkly contrasted with the heavens—or rather, was entirely the opposite. As the first ray of early winter's morning sun illuminated the land, the gates of St. Landis Castle were breached!

It happened faster than anticipated. As many had analyzed, though this majestic stronghold was formidable, its momentum was utterly spent. How could a garrison of uninspired, temporary conscripts possibly defend against the ravenous pack of true warriors howling outside?

Following the breach, cries echoed both within and without the city walls. Yet, one sound was jubilant, while the other was steeped in utter despair.

Boulders and roof tiles abruptly ceased raining down. The ramparts had descended into chaos the very instant the gates fell. Bereft of senior officers to command them, how could these miscellaneous troops retain any will or ability to resist? Panic-stricken, they fled every man for himself.

The reserve cavalry charged straight into the city the moment the gates shattered, their heavy iron armor clattering loudly!

Amidst the mass of troops, a courier galloped forward, shouting all the way, "The Fourth Prince decrees: slaughter the city!"

"Roar!" Nearly every soldier let out a cheer. In their eyes, sacking the city was the ultimate reward for its conquest—a chance to plunder the wealth of the nobility, to vent pent-up bloodlust through slaughter, and to take women...

Amidst the carnage, the beastly nature of man was unleashed to its fullest extent. Once tasted, the intoxicating thrill of that sensation became utterly addictive!

The soldiers shouted with wild excitement. Ever since they embarked on the northern campaign with the Fourth Prince, they had already razed five cities along the way. The Fourth Prince had opened the floodgates of desire under the righteous banner of avenging the blood of the Ross people sacrificed years ago. In truth, these cities were not entirely devoid of native Ross citizens, but who cared about such details? Engulfed in the frenzy of slaughter, did they truly harbor any noble cause?

War, after all, had always been thus!

Before long, the city was filled with a chaotic cacophony of wails, struggles, desperate pleas, and savage laughter. Although dawn had barely broken, a pall of dark clouds hung heavy over the ramparts, looming from afar like a dormant black dragon coiled above the gates.

Naturally, the city's fate was not an entirely one-sided massacre. Many nobles possessing private guards operated in small groups, lurking in the shadows and waiting for an opportune moment to escape amidst the confusion. Regarding these individuals, the soldiers split into two distinct factions.

One faction wished to avoid trouble and instinctively stepped aside. Unlike the ragtag conscripts on the wall, these elite guards possessed martial skills and equipment far superior to ordinary soldiers. Having reached the point where they could finally enjoy the fruits of victory, risking their lives now clearly seemed foolish.

Yet certain ambitious elements held a contrasting view. Their own side held overwhelming power, while the enemy were mere stray dogs. How much stronger could these guards possibly be than ordinary conscripts? The wealth carried by these nobles far surpassed that of commoners; seizing just one target would secure their livelihood for a long time to come and perhaps even pave the way for a glorious future for their families!

The bold thrive and gorge, while the timid starve and perish—that was simply how the world worked.

Consequently, a faction of soldiers not only refused to retreat but actively hunted down the nobles. The most depraved and unhinged among them had already converged outside the Lord's Manor!

What wealth could compare to the Lord's Manor? What women could possibly rival the nobility within the Lord's Manor? Here lay not only the immense riches brought by the lofty status of the enemy princess, but also the once-unattainable princess of their very own empire!

At this thought, hot blood surged through the veins of many!

A few still harbored lingering doubts; after all, those dwelling here possessed the most noble bloodline in the realm. If anything happened to the imperial princess, could this band of men truly hope to escape scot-free?

Despite their fear, many refused to disperse immediately. Deep within their souls, primal desires held sway, preventing them from being deterred by mere notions of royal majesty.

"What is there to fear?" someone in the crowd incited. "His Highness the Prince never explicitly forbade us from touching this place. In such chaos, even if something happens, we can simply claim it was the work of the enemy, can't we?"

Thus was born the narrative of an enraged enemy brutally murdering the imperial princess after the city's fall!

Though tempted, many still hesitated upon hearing this.

The instigator continued pressing, "The bold thrive and gorge, while the timid starve and perish. You lot of cowards—when I reap the rewards, don't even think about coming to beg for a share... Besides, in this lifetime, or even ten lifetimes over, which of you bastards has ever touched a princess?!"

This brazen, naked temptation caused every man's blood to boil, their breath turning ragged. Bloodshot veins surfaced in many eyes. The supreme nobility of the royal bloodline was now within arm's reach, sparking a singular thought in every mind: *Damn it, you only live once! To have a go at an imperial princess is worth dying for, and if by some chance we get away with it, we strike it rich!*

As the crowd surged with restless agitation, the tightly shut gates of the Lord's Manor suddenly swung open of their own accord. The situation shifted instantly, and everyone turned their gazes in stunned disbelief!

There were no formidable knights clad in armor, nor any princess draped in opulent attire. Emerging from the doorway was merely a remarkably young youth!

Everyone stared wide-eyed at the youth. He wore an elaborate nobleman's robe made of black silk native to the Ross Empire, carrying himself with an elegant and archaic grace. In his right hand, he held an unassuming black short sword. His short black hair, paired with his oriental facial features, gave him an exceptionally distinctive aura.

His skin tone and pupils were unlike anything most of them had ever witnessed—yellow skin... and violet eyes!

"What is the meaning of gathering outside the Princess's Manor?" Gu Lang gazed coldly at the crowd, radiating a palpable pressure that emanated from him like a shockwave, stunning everyone with his sheer biological magnetism.

The raging fire of their desires was instantly doused as if drenching them in freezing water!

Deep down, everyone still harbored a lingering dread of desecrating the royal princess. Combined with Gu Lang's piercing and formidable questioning, many stepped back in guilty panic.

"Afraid... what is there to be afraid of?" The soldier who had just incited the crowd stepped forward with a savage grin. "As long as everyone inside is dead, who will ever know what we did here?"

Hearing this, the surrounding crowd halted their retreat, expressions of inner conflict twisting their faces.

Gu Lang narrowed his eyes. Others might not have noticed, but he saw it clearly: a faint crimson glow flickered within the eyes of this ringleader. This fellow was no ordinary soldier—he had been deliberately planted here!

Logically speaking, if this mob truly forced their way in and violated the so-called princess, escaping without repercussions was utterly impossible. For reasons unknown, the Fourth Prince did not want his older sister to survive, but the murder of an imperial princess required some form of accountability. With so many witnesses present, how could it possibly be covered up? When the time came, scapegoats would inevitably be executed. To indulge in momentary pleasure only to pay with one's life—and a massive price at that—was foolish. The prince certainly wouldn't take the blame; the burden would fall entirely upon these soldiers. Executing a batch of participating culprits, whether through capital punishment or the extermination of their entire clans, was the only way to appease the public.

Yet, trying to patiently explain such logic to soldiers already consumed by bloodlust was futile. They might hesitate momentarily, but softening one's tone even slightly would instantly unleash their feral instincts.

Having spotted sleeper agents of the Chaos faction among the crowd from the very beginning, Gu Lang never intended to rely on words to halt the madness!

Just as the ringleader puffed out his chest, eagerly preparing another impassioned speech, Gu Lang raised his right hand. A razor-sharp surge of sword qi cleaved the eloquent soldier directly in half!

Blood spurted like a geyser over the surrounding onlookers. Everyone stared at Gu Lang in utter disbelief, utterly failing to comprehend how he had pulled it off!

"Rebels must be executed!" Holding his sword in his right hand and keeping his left hand behind his back, Gu Lang wore an expression of chilling indifference. Combined with his dark attire, he cut the figure of a legendary swordsman. The lethal display of his previous sword strike delivered an overwhelming psychological shock to the crowd.

"Abby?" It took several moments for the surrounding soldiers to react. Staring blankly at the bisected corpse of their comrade, they suddenly whipped their heads around to glare at Gu Lang with furious expressions, faint reddish hues tinting their eyes. An ignorant observer might have mistaken it for bloodshot eyes brought on by sheer agitation, but Gu Lang frowned slightly. At least thirty individuals nearby exhibited traits of this bloodline!

"Kill him! Avenge our brother! I'm going to hack off his limbs and ravrench that damn princess right in front of him! Whoever wants a piece of this, follow me!"

This bestial declaration reignited the bloodlust of the previously intimidated soldiers. Roaring in unison, they brandished their steel sabers, stirring the surrounding mob into a frenzy.

Gu Lang coldly observed the blood-frenzied crowd. Simple words alone could not produce such an effect; these chaotic soldiers must carry the bloodline of Black Demons—fiends endowed with hypnotic and inciting powers.

Yet Gu Lang had anticipated this. With a cold smirk, he slightly raised his sword, too lazy to even assume a formal stance. The sword runes of the Orc Swordmaster bloodline flickered faintly within his pupils.

If the enemy's elite cavalry weren't going to show up, just this rabble? Gu Lang silently decided it was time to show these natives the true meaning of Dynasty Warriors!