The Exiled Lord: My Maid is a Battle Goddess

The noble coalition army was thrown into chaos. Quite a few soldiers turned to flee, never having expected to walk into an ambush.

"Hold formation! Defensive lines—no one retreats!"

"For Her Majesty, the Empress!"

The nobles roared, spurring their warhorses forward. With swords in hand, they swept across the front lines like a gale, chasing down fleeing soldiers and barking orders to force them back into formation, stabilizing the ranks.

"The initiative is ours. We wait for more noble reinforcements."

A trace of gravity flickered through the eyes of the two Divine Chosen. With the enemy’s reinforcements already present, they chose not to attack rashly, opting instead to rely on their troops to probe the opponent’s strength.

Ashina came charging in atop the giant wolf, every movement radiating the intent to pounce and tear through the enemy in a frenzy.

The soldiers raised their shields as high as they could, hiding behind them, swallowing nervously, their tension palpable.

Just as Ashina reached the formation, she suddenly turned, scooping up Brinda and Miriam.

"If you don’t want to die, don’t struggle."

Ashina muttered coldly.

"Mhm." The two exchanged a glance—both utterly confused—but they had no other choice.

Tossing them onto the wolf’s back, Ashina wore a faint smile as she slowly withdrew, unhurried, all the way back to Phield’s side. The noble army didn’t dare make a move.

"Haha, they’re intimidated. Works every time—against smart people, feints are the best."

Phield’s heart was pounding wildly. Of course, if the enemy had actually charged, he would’ve had no choice but to look after himself and bolt.

Leaping forward on horseback, Phield shouted randomly toward the forest, "Third squad, flank from the rear! Fourth squad, intercept enemy reinforcements! The rest, with me!"

After making up a string of nonsense commands, Phield led his forces and disappeared into the forest without a backward glance.

Three minutes passed in silence.

A minor noble looked around. Not a single enemy emerged to attack. He wiped the cold sweat from his brow and blinked. "Damn it... were we fooled? They never intended to fight us."

"You think?"

The purple-robed noble masked his embarrassment well, gripping his reins tightly. "Regardless of whether there was an ambush, the enemy has more Divine Chosen than we do—that’s a fact. Caution may not be a knight’s virtue, but as a lord, I must be responsible for my own safety. Let’s go. Report this to the Governor."

Though Qike obeyed the nobles’ orders, she was clearly displeased. "Such a rare chance to uphold justice... damn it. We’ll have to capture them another day."

The noble coalition abandoned the pursuit and instead marched toward Wind Orchid City.

Phield led his group into a hidden location.

"Your arm... you alright?" Phield took out a healing potion from his waist. He had intended to hand it to Brinda, but seeing her severed arms, he froze for a moment before passing it to Miriam instead. "Doesn’t look like you’re fine."

"I’m fine. They’ll grow back soon enough. My recovery ability is pretty strong."

Brinda remained remarkably upbeat.

"You... you are..." Miriam’s pupils trembled.

Even though Phield was wrapped tightly in a black robe, the two of them recognized him—after all, they had once experienced "soul fusion." For a moment, they stood there, dazed and unsteady.

"Ahem! Don’t jump to conclusions. And don’t say anything either."

Phield cleared his throat immediately, signaling them to keep quiet.

If the wrong people overheard, the charge of treason would be unavoidable.

"I leave for a while, and you two go running off recklessly. Disappointing. What I didn’t expect even more was that you’re members of Night Owl—you’ve been deceiving me from the very beginning."

Guilt and sorrow welled up in both of them.

They had used him, even planned to kill him—yet he had still chosen to save them.

At that thought, neither could lift their heads in shame.

"I won’t say much more. Once you’ve recovered, get out of my sight. Next time we meet, we’ll be enemies."

Phield turned his back, gazing up at a forty-five-degree angle into the sky, looking utterly forlorn. "Sigh... seems like there really aren’t many good people left in this world."

Hearing that, the two from Night Owl felt their hearts twist in anguish, wishing they could slap themselves.

"Oh, right. What kind of organization is Night Owl? Just a pure assassin group?"

"No. We fight to save the oppressed and overthrow the Empire’s brutal rule," Miriam replied. Despite her third-tier strength, she looked like a timid girl, stealing glances at Phield as if afraid of displeasing him.

"Interesting. Then who leads you? Nobles? Merchants? Workers? Clergy... or peasants?"

Phield asked the most crucial question.

"Does that matter?" the two asked, confused.

"Of course. Just answer."

Who holds power matters—it reveals everything important.

"We don’t know. All missions are issued by our captain."

They both looked blank.

"Fine. Once you’ve rested, leave. Don’t forget—you owe me your lives."

"Mhm, thank you." Still confused, they nodded repeatedly.

Phield smiled faintly, said nothing more, and ordered the greatsword warriors to stand guard. Now that he had made contact with the rebels and earned their favor, it would surely be useful in the future.

From start to finish, he had never shown his face. Mere rumors or suspicions wouldn’t be enough for the Empire to move against a noble.

After a night of rest, the two came to bid him farewell.

Phield’s eyes lit up as he pointed at Brinda, whose arms had fully regenerated. "Hey, your arms are really back."

"Hehe, I’m pretty tough." Brinda scratched her head, laughing. "Thanks for saving us. I really thought I was going to die... still kind of shaken."

Miriam, however, placed her hands on her hips and said seriously, "Please don’t continue doing evil. Otherwise... we won’t let you go."

"I’m a good person, you know. Where did you hear otherwise? Go ask around—I’m known as the ’Greatest Kind Soul’ of the Ross family."

Phield looked genuinely puzzled—he really did consider himself a good person.

"Th-that’s good then... anyway, don’t bully civilians."

After throwing out that hollow threat, the two cast Phield a complicated look before quickly departing, disappearing beyond the horizon.

"This place is dangerous. Let’s move."

Phield led his forces toward Maple Leaf City. He planned to purchase a large number of slaves and craftsmen to serve as future labor for Starnight City.

After several days of travel and rest, Phield arrived at the outskirts of the Maple Leaf territory.

Dusk was falling. The fading sunlight scattered faintly across the land.

In the distance, farmers caught sight of the sunset—and reacted as if they had seen a ghost, fleeing in panic toward their homes.