Having his fun interrupted by a catapult shot, the Lord was already seething with pent-up anger.

He clutched the Holy Sword at his waist and rushed back out. Then, as if remembering something, he turned to Zat, who was trailing him. "Zat, go fix our Legion Commander’s door. What kind of meeting hall is left exposed to the wind and snow?"

Zat grinned at the crowd watching him. He lifted the large door from the ground and propped it against the frame. After ensuring it could barely block some of the cold wind, he contentedly followed his Lord and left.

CRACK~

BANG!

But they had only taken a few steps when the wooden door, which had long been on its last legs, shattered into pieces.

For some reason, Fujero felt that the two of them picked up their pace, their figures quickly vanishing into the night.

Everyone silently mourned for the Pigmen. If Lord Li could annihilate four hundred Berserk Minotaurs, what chance did a few Pigmen have?

"Fujero, I..."

Si Kai looked apologetically toward the Legion Commander at the head of the room.

To be honest, he was the only one present with a deep personal connection to the Lord of High Cliff Castle.

As a Knight who upheld the chivalric code, he felt he bore some responsibility for what had just happened.

"Si Kai, this Baron Levi is quite clever. From start to finish, neither he nor his Beastman subordinates even reached for their weapons."

Fujero simply smiled and adjusted his collar.

It might seem like a small detail, but its implications were huge.

It showed that the Lord had never intended to use force. Everyone had simply been cowed by his aggressive entrance.

Recalling the Lord’s previously displayed, unrivaled power, they subconsciously feared opposing him.

That was why they had fallen for his little trick.

Undeniably, Fujero himself had been startled at first. Only after mulling it over did he grasp the deeper meaning.

But the die was already cast. As a Legion Commander, he had promised to tell the Lord part of the truth.

Going back on his word would severely damage his reputation and hinder his future prospects.

Fortunately, the Lord had volunteered to deal with the tough problem of the catapults, which saved him a lot of trouble.

It wasn’t a total loss.

With that, Fujero knocked on the table and said in a deep voice, "Gentlemen, let’s return to the matter of dealing with these Wilderness Natives. Suffering one defeat after another has damaged the Thorn Corps’s honor!"

...

Just as the Lord, leading a troop of muscular, Iron Armor-clad brutes, was storming out of the camp to head north, someone unexpectedly blocked his path.

"My Lord, I want to offer what little help I can."

Masha looked resolutely at the Lord before her, clad in jet-black Iron Armor with a crimson cape fluttering in the wind, his head covered by a full-face helmet.

"Miss Masha! Miss Masha!"

Just then, an anxious shout rang out. Mier came running over in a hurry from a short distance away. Seeing Levi, he looked ashamed. "Brother-in-law, I couldn’t keep Miss Masha back."

"I’ll deal with you later." The Lord waved a hand dismissively, then lifted his faceplate and looked down at the young girl. "Masha, war is no child’s play. It’s not as romantic as the Knightly Novels make it seem."

"Once the killing starts, life becomes cheaper than dirt. Every moment, countless people die in ways too gruesome to behold."

The Lord tried to persuade her gently.

He thought highly of the young Priestess. Compared to the other, more timid Priests, he greatly admired the girl’s bone-deep courage and stubbornness.

What he despised most wasn’t incompetence, but weakness in those who were capable.

The other Priests had clearly been molded by the Church into compliant Clergy, but Masha still retained the ability to think for herself.

That was why he didn’t want to expose the young Priestess to such brutal slaughter just yet. After all, there was a proper way to introduce someone to such things.

"It is precisely because I know this that I am here. Only war can resolve disputes. Negotiation and compromise can never bring about true peace," Masha said, sharing an insight she had gleaned from the history books she’d read.

History is filled with examples of nations that were destroyed after endless negotiations and concessions. It should serve as a stark warning.

Her expression was firm, her tone serious. "If it is for the sake of peace, then such sacrifices are necessary."

"Hahaha, Masha, I’m finding that I like you more and more!"

The Lord laughed heartily, placed a hand earnestly on the young Priestess’s shoulder, and looked her in the eye. "Welcome to High Cliff Castle."

"Yes!" Masha suppressed her excitement and quickly added, "My Lord, I know the Snow Mirror Technique. It’s not even considered Low Tier Magic, but at this time of year, it can conceal our presence."

"I used that very magic to sneak over here just now."

"What’s the maximum number of people it can hold?" the Lord asked, surprised.

Thanks to the Minotaurs’ Misty Skill, Levi no longer dared to underestimate magic that could conceal one’s movements.

If used correctly, it could potentially turn the tide of a battle.

"It can hold over a hundred people, no problem," Masha said with conviction.

But when she actually cast the magic, the Lord looked up at Masha on his shoulders and rolled his eyes. "This is what you call ’over a hundred people’?"

They were now crammed inside a white dome, with sixty or seventy Beastman Barbarians pressed shoulder to shoulder.

Masha was embarrassed. Her estimate had been based on humans; she had completely forgotten that the High Cliff Castle Warriors were all broad, bulky Beastmen, each one taking up the space of two men.

Because the area of Masha’s spell was limited and there were too many High Cliff Castle Warriors, the only solution was to cut down their numbers and cram in as many as they possibly could.

"Forward!" the Lord ordered, rolling his eyes as he was assaulted by the stench of sweat from the Barbarians packed around him.

Only Masha, as a woman and a Caster, received preferential treatment. Perched on the Lord’s shoulders, where she could breathe the fresh air above, she waved her arms and shouted with great vigor, "Charge!"

Everyone else, even a powerhouse like Zat, felt like their feet were barely touching the ground. They were jabbed so relentlessly by the elbows of the surrounding Barbarians that they lost all will to complain.

The Snow Mirror Technique was not, after all, a profound form of magic. It simply created a dome of reflective ice crystals over the group, which acted like a mirror.

Thus, anyone looking in their direction would see nothing but an expanse of white snow, perfectly matching the surroundings.

However, a keen-eyed observer would notice a jumble of footprints suddenly appearing in the spot after the group had passed.

Furthermore, it couldn’t conceal sound.

Fortunately, thanks to long-term training and the blessings of the system, the Barbarians were as silent as stones. They moved with shuffling steps, skirting the main battlefield and heading for a northern slope where figures flickered under the moonlight.