The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 629: Why are they wearing such ugly masks?

On the north wall, the attack had already begun. Figures clothed in dark hides rushed from the forest, moving in formation. Some remained low to the ground in their beast forms, leaping at the fence, while others in human form threw hooked ropes toward the top of the wall.

Arrows whistled through the air. From the watchtowers, the village archers answered, their own arrows flying down, some tipped with Osiris’s fire, some carrying Cyrus’s poison.

Kian stood at the center of the wall, his tall frame a steady pillar. The roaring of battle sounded around him, but his mind was very clear. He gave orders in a low voice that carried far.

"Third tower, more arrows to the right. You, take your group and cover the south side, they are trying to split us. Do not chase too far if they retreat. Prioritize the ropes, cut them before they climb."

His blue eyes moved without pause, tracking every weak point. When one of the enemy beastmen in wolf form managed to scramble almost to the top, Kian stepped forward, grabbed the wolf by the scruff of its neck, and simply threw it back down. The beast hit the ground hard, leaving a small crater in the snow.

He did not even look at it again.

Zyran was already having fun. He had moved into his pure black panther form, body a shadow that blended easily into the night.

He crouched on the wall, waited until two attackers pulled themselves up, then darted forward and swiped. Both masked men did not even have time to shout before their bodies flew sideways, crashing into their own companions below.

"Why are they wearing such ugly masks?" he thought lazily while he fought. "Do they not feel ashamed?"

He leaped again, claws glinting for a flash, then disappeared into the dark side of the wall, dragging one unlucky attacker with him. A muffled scream was quickly cut off.

In the inner part of the wall, Osiris stood with a bow in his hands. He hated using bows in general, he felt it did not fit his noble phoenix temperament, but Isabella had insisted he learn some basic archery to help at range.

Now, as he loosed arrow after arrow, he had to admit that watching an arrow he had fired turn into a streak of golden flame that pierced through an enemy’s shoulder did feel very good.

"Tch, how dare you scare people in my new home," he muttered, sending another arrow whistling into the night. His bright eyes flicked toward the palace for a brief moment, making sure he could still feel Isabella’s presence.

Once he confirmed she was moving closer to the wall, his fingers tightened on the bow.

"If any of you make her uncomfortable tonight, I will pluck you bald," he said under his breath.

Isabella finally reached the steps that led to the top of the wall. Two guards tried to block her path, panic in their eyes.

"Madam Isabella, please, your body..."

"Move," she said simply.

Something in her face made them step aside without another word. She climbed slowly but steadily.

Her breath quickened a little, but the fan in her hand felt light. When she finally came up onto the wall, a gust of cold air hit her face. The night opened in front of her, full of moving shadows and cries.

For a moment, she just stood there, taking it in. Her village was no longer the small messy place she had stumbled into at the beginning.

Watchtowers, connected walls, organized patrols, strong men with focused eyes.

All of it had grown under her nagging and Kian’s discipline, under the hard work of villagers who wanted to live through winter, under the constant running around of her dull and brilliant men.

"If you want to attack this place, you better be ready to lose teeth," she thought.

"Isabella," Kian’s voice pulled her back. He appeared at her side, eyes tight with controlled worry. "You should be inside."

She looked up at him. His cloak was dusted with snowflakes, and his shoulders were tense.

"If I stay inside while strangers climb my walls, I will have nightmares later," she replied. "I cannot fight like before, but I can still help."

Her gaze dropped to the hooked ropes that had already caught on the wall. Enemy beastmen were climbing up, teeth bared. She touched the first small button on her fan.

"Let me cut some of their ropes."

The first time she had used Wind Slash Mode out of the mountain, the blade that came out had barely been enough to slice grass. But when she learned how to use it properly that was a different story.

Now, as she flicked her wrist, a thin line of pale energy shot out from the fan’s edge, almost invisible in the dark. It flew faster than an arrow and cut through one of the ropes with a sharp sound. The beastman hanging on it cried out as he dropped back down.

The sensation of the wind blade tugged pleasantly at Isabella’s arm. It was still not strong enough to slice through bone, but ropes and unprepared limbs were not a problem.

She fanned again, and another rope broke. She could feel the fan responding to her spirit more easily than before. Its internal engraving pulsed faintly under her fingers.

[Fan proficiency increased,] Bubu commented dryly in her mind. [Host, please enjoy cutting people with style.]

Isabella pressed the second button. Gale Mode responded with a soft hum. She snapped the fan open fully and swept it forward.

This time, instead of a thin blade, a wider gust of wind slammed into the section of wall where three attackers had just poked their heads up.

They yelped as the wind punched their chests and knocked them backwards. One of them lost his grip completely and fell, rolling in the snow below.

"Oh?" Isabella’s eyes lit up. The fan had been absorbing the winter wind all day. Tonight, the valley’s air was rich, and the fan clearly liked it. "Not bad."

She continued to swing it, sending smaller gusts here and there, not enough to destroy, but enough to throw off aim and break formations.

Arrows that had been flying straight toward her males veered off course, spears slipped from fingers, cloaks flipped up embarrassingly over heads.