Chapter 48 Field Testing
The road grew increasingly difficult to navigate. Sitting inside the carriage, Richie felt an intense jolting, forcing him to close his book.
Sitting right beside Richie was chubby Yiluo, who had been hunched over the table calculating formulas. The sudden violent jolt likewise displeased him, forcing him to put away his paper and pen as well.
“Was it always like this in the past?”
With nothing else to do, Richie turned to chat with the plump assistant.
“Doing errand work naturally comes with the job of an assistant,” Yiluo smiled. Given his status, leaving Espol’s side would certainly make his life much more comfortable, sparing him from grueling labor like this. Yet he wouldn’t do so; he aimed higher than becoming a mere master smith—his goal was to become a Great Craftsman.
“I heard preliminary testing wasn’t fully completed, and there’s still vast room for boosting the armor’s performance. Why were they in such a rush to start field testing?” Richie found it quite peculiar. It was Yiluo himself who had told him earlier that field testing was far off, yet in just a week, the situation had completely changed.
“Time,” the plump man sighed. “The higher-ups feel time is running out. Word is that the enemy side intends to move ahead of schedule. Detailed intelligence hasn’t arrived yet, only that their top brass held a secret meeting in Sol not long ago.”
Richie felt a surge of alarm.
Original estimates anticipated war breaking out again in a year or a year and a half, but now that timeline had been moved up, leaving even less preparation time. No wonder everyone was acting as if their trousers were on fire.
“Luckily, our side made preparations,” Yiluo stretched his stiff body, resting his feet on the table. “The first batch of prototypes produced dozens of suits. Omoer, Luosuoto, Packington, and your Monstoke each took a dozen for full-scale testing. Your earlier test results have already been passed along. They’ll build on your findings to continue testing. By the time we reach our destination, they should have further results, and you’ll proceed directly with field testing on top of their findings. Since multiple fronts are working simultaneously, progress should be quite fast.”
Yiluo suddenly shifted his tone, his voice turning subdued: “However, you probably don’t have much time to prepare. Teacher asked me to ask you: when we evacuate, do you plan to leave with us?”
Richie was stunned by the question, at a loss for how to answer. He could only lean back against his chair with his head in his hands, pondering deeply.
He desperately wanted to stay clear of war, yet abandoning his comrades to flee was something he couldn’t bring himself to do—especially since his comrades were also his women.
“I don’t care much for myself. What I truly worry about are my parents and Emily’s group,” Richie’s reply was somewhat ambiguous, which could be interpreted either as a willingness to leave or an intention to stay.
“We asked them—both sides. To us, taking a few extra people along isn’t a problem, at most adding two or three carriages,” Yiluo looked helpless.
Richie pressed further: “Then what did they say?” His heart rate quickened noticeably.
Yiluo glanced at him: “It’s obvious they have great faith in you. They handed the decision over to you entirely: if you don’t leave, they don’t plan to leave either.”
The ball had been kicked back to him, but Richie felt far more settled this time.
Even his mother and those girls possessed the courage to stay; if a grown man like him fled from the battlefield, it would be utterly embarrassing.
Besides, even if the situation turned dire to the extreme, he was confident in transferring his family to safety. With escape routes already prepared, they would receive the best treatment no matter which country they took refuge in—what was there to worry about?
Richie was a small-town citizen at heart, thinking with a petty-bourgeois mindset.
A small-town citizen might toss ideas like nation and ethnicity aside to preserve his life when catastrophe struck, but when things weren’t as dire, small-town citizens were quite “patriotic” and thoroughly loathed deserters.
The roads on both sides became increasingly treacherous as the convoy drove deep into the mountains.
Richie didn’t know where this place was. Though his pass held a high security clearance, his own rank was modest; an ordinary foot soldier like him had no right to know many secrets.
Entering the mountain ranges, the bumpy road made reading impossible, so he could only chat with chubby Yiluo.
The two brought up the manufacturing plant managed by Emily, mentioning those forms and the workers and technicians filling them out.
From Yiluo’s mouth, Emily’s earlier suspicion was confirmed: new factories were being constructed on a massive scale in the rear, while old factories were being converted one after another. The appearance of the Norman Alliance’s new standard armor forced Alliance nations to gamble everything on the new armor undergoing tests.
Richie felt immense pressure. According to Yiluo, if the new armor failed to pass all tests, everyone would be doomed, as remaining time wouldn’t allow designing another new suit.
“Everything is progressing smoothly right now,” the plump man comforted Richie with a smile. “We’re more experienced than you. Reaching this stage of testing means half the battle is already won.”
“I’m more interested in knowing what chance Monstoke has of being preserved?” Richie’s spirits weren’t particularly high. Even if armor development succeeded, with the Republic’s military strength, holding off the Norman Alliance’s full-scale offensive was nearly impossible without relying on reinforcements from Alliance nations.
The best scenario would be Alliance nations using Monstoke as a main battlefield, just as they did against the Red Banner years ago. Though the Republic would turn into ruins due to war, the nation could be preserved and gain immense post-war benefits.
The problem was that enemy nations might not allow them to do so. The Franca Empire’s geographic position dictated an active offensive, and bordering Alliance nations were massing heavy troops along their own borders, unable to spare attention for the Republic.
“Don’t overthink it. You just need to know that as long as the Alliance wins, even if Monstoke is broken, it will be rebuilt. To this side, the existence of the Monstoke Republic is highly necessary,” Yiluo consoled.
Richie didn’t grasp Yiluo’s meaning. Though he had read many books recently, none concerned politics.
Seeing Richie’s confusion, Yiluo leaned forward and whispered an explanation: “Omoer, Luosuoto, and Packington on our side are ancient, established powers. These nations wish to expand their influence, but have little interest in conquest or hegemony. They prefer maintaining the status quo. Thus, they’re happy to see more peaceful, wealthy nations like Monstoke around.”
Had Trisli said this, Richie might not have believed it, but coming from chubby Yiluo, the credibility was different. Yiluo didn’t hail from those ancient powers; he, Espol, Madame Shar, and the librarian uncle were all residents of the Free City of Capech.
Compared to Monstoke, Capech had much less land, but matched it in other aspects. Though just a single city, Capech boasted a population of six million—equivalent to one-fifth of Monstoke’s total population. Capech was the most famous commercial city, gathering the wealthiest group of people in the world. Even more astonishingly, it gathered numerous extraordinary minds, evidenced by two of the Three Great Craftsmen living there.
It was undeniably a luscious prize that countless people had coveted throughout history, yet it stood tall to this day—a balanced choice forged by the rivalry among ancient powers.
“Everything will work out. I can tell you another thing: this time, we distributed two million forms in total. Do you know what kind of people filled them out?” Yiluo asked with a mysterious, grin-filled face.
“Can’t guess,” Richie shook his head.
“Most are skilled technicians, followed by engineering staff, including nearly twenty thousand senior technical personnel. They receive special attention; if the situation turns bad, this group will be evacuated first. The people around you are all included, even your father,” Yiluo lowered his voice further, as subsequent words couldn’t be leaked outside: “As for the people currently enjoying the spotlight—Republic government officials and their families—Alliance nations show great welcoming attitudes on the surface, but won’t actually accept a single one.”
Hearing this, Richie felt mixed emotions in his heart. He felt somewhat relieved, slightly vindicated, yet also sensed a faint, quiet melancholy.
The carriage traveled for three full days before finally proving unable to advance further.
This was a region of lofty mountains—not the low hills near Glasslovar, but true mountain ranges with elevation drops exceeding two to three thousand meters.
The peaks were entirely white, covered in ice and snow accumulated over centuries.
Where there was snow, rivers naturally flowed. The mountain bases were crisscrossed with spiderwebs of rivers, lakes of varying sizes, and extensive marshes.
Where there was water, forests naturally grew, and because the area was remote and uninhabited, the forests were exceptionally dense.
“Field testing is actually taking place in Polmo,” Lina recognized the location as soon as she stepped down from the carriage.
“I came here once when I was very young,” Robin sighed softly, seemingly reminiscing.
“Is this place that remarkable?” Richie asked his mentor, Miss Dana, in a whisper.
Although Dana’s family background was slightly inferior to Lina’s and Robin’s, her family was still part of the Republic’s upper echelon.
“In the pre-Empire era, this was a summer resort for royalty and high officials. After the Republic was established, it was purchased and converted into an exclusive club, but later reclaimed by the state as a vacation retreat for senior officials. It’s indeed a fine place for field testing. The highest peak stands at three thousand three hundred meters, covered in year-round ice and snow, perfect for high-altitude and extreme-cold testing. The mid-mountain area is barren, full of jagged rocks, weeds, and low shrubs, resembling semi-arid terrain. The mountain base features forests, marshes, rivers, and lakes, and just over ten kilometers past the mountains lies the seashore. There’s no place with more complex terrain than this.”
Lina chimed in suddenly: “Choosing Polmo for field testing is likely for secrecy. This place covers sixty thousand square kilometers, packed with Internal Affairs secret posts, and a Knight squadron is stationed on the mountain.”
She tapped Richie’s cheek with a smile: “During this period, you’ll just have to endure the solitude.”
Several cable cars transported the group inside—the sole entry and exit route.
Watching mountain ranges glide beneath his feet, Richie experienced a strange sensation, suddenly developing a keen interest in “flying.”
He had “flown” before. The Valkyrie could perform short glides; jumping from a two-hundred-meter-high hillside allowed gliding for two to three hundred meters at most.
Richie laughed suddenly, finding his wild imagination amusing. Since ancient times, countless people dreamed of flying like birds, yet none truly succeeded beyond gliding.
If given the chance, he might join a gliding club for fun; it would certainly be more thrilling than ice skating.
The cable car’s terminus sat on a mountain summit that was far gentler than surrounding peaks, covered in white snow like a thick cotton blanket laid on the ground.
Stepping out of the cable car, Richie immediately felt freezing winds hit his face. Fortunately, his leather combat suit proved exceptionally warm.
Dana bent down to scoop a handful of snow and tossed it far away, appearing like a playful young girl at this moment.
“You skate quite well. I wonder how your skiing is?” Merlin approached Richie and asked.
Growing up, Richie had never seen such thick snow. His hometown of Glasslovar lay in the southwest, cold and humid in winter with biting winds, but rarely snowing. Even when it snowed, it couldn’t accumulate, quickly melting and freezing into solid ice.
A crunching sound echoed from afar as a squad walked over through the thick snow. Judging by their attire, they were all Internal Affairs personnel.
Richie stared in surprise at one of them. Ranked second in the squad was a tall, middle-aged man with heavy stubble.
Months ago, during the demonstration in Peines, it was this very guy who had confronted him.
Richie would never forget that absurd brawl.
The man opposite also spotted Richie, showing a wave of astonishment. Once he clearly gauged the strength of Squad 105’s other members, enlightenment dawned upon him.
He finally understood why Richie was so strong. Even if members of an Ace Squad weren’t Ace Knights themselves, their strength far surpassed ordinary Knights because they were used to seeing masters and sparring with them regularly.
“Glad you could come. I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.” The leader of the squad looked like a pure bureaucrat—in his fifties, balding, and portly. Being assigned here meant he possessed connections, hence a trace of superiority in his tone: “Please follow me. Your rooms have been prepared.”
Since this place served as a vacation retreat for high officials, facilities were naturally top-tier. The officer in charge was clearly biased; the rooms he assigned to Yiluo, Trisli, Lina, and Robin all faced south, offering ample sunlight, much less wind, and a ski slope right outside the door.
Richie’s treatment was far worse. His room faced northernmost, with a cliff right outside the window and gloomy mountain ranges in the distance. Though closed, cold wind seeped in continuously, making whistling sounds. The room contained a fireplace, but the firewood beside it was damp, coated in a dark layer of dust or moss. The only thing satisfying Richie was that the bedsheets and quilts were brand new.
Closing the door behind him, Richie tossed his luggage onto the floor and walked straight to the window.
Even through the glass pane, howling winds outside sounded like countless ghosts weeping and screaming, chilling one to the core.
“What a godforsaken place,” Richie cursed under his breath.
He ran his hand along the window frame.
Cold air leaked in through many gaps, feeling as sharp and icy as razor blades.
A assembly bugle call pulled Richie out of his deep dissatisfaction. He remembered he hadn’t come here to vacation. Furthermore, Yiluo’s words in the carriage had taken effect.
Richie comforted himself secretly: that portly official might look impressive now, but when the time came, he’d be worse off than an ordinary technician. Once the situation turned unfavorable, technicians who filled out forms would be protected and evacuated to other Alliance countries, while that fat official would have to find a way to survive on his own.
Feeling slightly better, Richie turned and headed toward the assembly location.
Field testing indeed posed an extreme test for Magitech Armor. Accidents occurred frequently on the very first day; movements performed effortlessly in the past immediately ran into trouble when executed in snowdrifts or marsh mud.
After several hours of testing, six suits suffered severe breakdowns and had to be towed back, while another three suffered moderate breakdowns, stumbling along the way back.
Polmo housed a repair shop originally used for maintaining cable cars, which had been converted into an armor repair workshop before Squad 105 arrived.
The armor Richie designed finally showcased its advantages: composed of numerous small parts, repairs were far easier, and most damage occurred in soft joints and buffer structures, making disassembly and replacement simple.
While technicians were busy repairing armors, Richie was fiddling with a pile of items in his room. Scattered across the table were messy metal wires, roughly soldered copper plates, and copper pipes.
Due to Emily’s influence, Richie had developed an interest in mechanical fabrication, currently adjusting the sound receiver he had requested.
The receiver was designed by Espol, but Espol hadn’t time to assemble it for him. Other technicians had their own tasks, so Richie had to do it himself.
A sound receiver wasn’t overly complex. Being Squad 105’s handyman and having learned from Miss Randy for so long, he was confident in assembling it.
Soldering the final metal wire to the correct spot, Richie let out a long breath. Having spent a month on it, he could finally see results.
Capturing sounds were two half-foot-long copper blades shaped like horn daggers, mounted on a metal bracket capable of moving up, down, left, and right.
Opening the window, howling wind rushed inside immediately.
Richie secured the metal bracket to the window sill with four thumb-thick screws as quickly as possible, then hastily closed the window.
In that brief moment, the wind blowing into the room had disheveled the bedding as if trampled by a herd of elephants.
The copper blades outside connected to two thin copper wires, which linked through a complex set of copper plates and pipes to two earpieces.
Putting on the earpieces, Richie calmed his mind completely, operating according to the discipline taught by the librarian uncle.
This discipline bore a fine name—Heavenly Hearing.
He had practiced it for quite some time.
Richie’s finger pressed against a small button. Once he gathered Aura at his ear canals according to the discipline, his finger finally pressed down.
Instantly, he felt a sensation rushing straight to his brain—an eerie feeling that came and went rapidly, returning everything to normal in a blink.
Beside the button sat four knobs controlling the rotation directions of the two copper blades. Richie turned them extremely slowly.
Sounds from the earpieces sounded remarkably odd, likely because the two copper blades pointed in completely different directions, rendering incoming sounds chaotic.
After tweaking for a while, Richie finally found the right direction. The thin copper blades acted like a narrow slit, allowing very little sound to pass through.
Without chaotic noise, distant wind sounds became exceptionally clear.
Richie continued turning the four knobs.
Sounds from the earpieces altered constantly—sometimes high-pitched, sometimes low, sometimes fierce, sometimes swirling. All of these were wind.
Wind turned out to be so multi-faceted; he became entirely immersed in this strange world.
Back on the retreat route by the riverbank, he had first perceived the world of wind, but that time felt like looking at scenery through frosted glass—blurry and indistinct.
This time was far clearer. In his perception, wind resembled bundled straw: seemingly a thick bundle, but composed of independent individual straws.
Even among wind flowing in the same direction, fine gaps existed, creating micro-turbulence everywhere in the wind world. It was precisely these micro-turbulences that made wind so unpredictable; often a tiny turbulence disrupted wind flow, turning a breeze into a slightly larger turbulence, which in turn disrupted more wind flow.
Slight changes turned tiny turbulences into terrifying whirlwinds.
Whirlwinds were likewise composed of multiple wind currents containing countless micro-turbulences that could suddenly erupt, splitting a whirlwind into more whirlwinds, or conversely, calming it down.
Nothing was more complex and multi-faceted than the world of wind.
Unknowingly, Richie entered a strange state.
The house seemed to vanish, the mountain summit beneath his feet vanished, and even his body vanished, leaving only a spark of consciousness floating in midair—floating within this world made entirely of wind.
Initially, he merely perceived surrounding wind silently, but gradually grew bolder, beginning to stroke and play with those winds.
Consciousness alone couldn’t alter wind, but he could attach himself to wind, dancing and drifting along with it. Gradually, Richie felt as if he had turned into a breeze, drifting on and on, unsure of how long or where he would drift.
Suddenly, Richie shivered, instantly snapping awake.
Sunlight streaming through the window startled him awake, and he discovered he had sat through the entire night at the table, wearing earpieces with hands holding the knobs.
Yet he felt no fatigue whatsoever, only slight stiffness and blocked circulation due to sitting for so long and cold air seeping through window gaps.
Richie closed his eyes to inspect his internal state, worried whether an all-nighter caused hidden injuries.
Moments later, his mind settled.
His body was completely fine. Aura was indeed somewhat depleted—an inevitable outcome of running Recon Knight techniques—but such depletion meant little to him, fully replenished after fifteen minutes of cultivation.
He harbored a feeling that internal inspection felt slightly clearer than before.
Richie couldn’t guarantee the perception was accurate, as the difference was subtle, likely a psychological effect.
Glancing outside, daylight had fully broken. Normally he would help in the kitchen at this hour, but today he didn’t need to do such chores.
Richie stood up, preparing for a new day.
Days in Polmo were extremely busy and dull.
Field testing occupied the daytime. Initially it felt somewhat relaxed, as armors broke down frequently, forcing stops that allowed rest while technicians repaired them. Yet as issues were resolved one by one, breakdowns diminished. Later on, working fourteen straight hours without breaks or meals became common.
Richie couldn’t complain, for he wasn’t the busiest; compared to chubby Yiluo, he was practically on vacation.
Yiluo was overwhelmed with work. Daytime meant overseeing the entire testing process; after testing, he consolidated results, filtering out useless and suspicious data, while supervising communication staff to transmit all data to the expert team in Peines.
The team over there organized and analyzed data, proposing repair and improvement schemes for damaged parts.
Then they transmitted instructions back to Yiluo.
Only during that window could Yiluo snatch a nap. Once data arrived, Yiluo had to leap out of bed and rush to the repair workshop, guiding technicians to adjust armors according to requirements.
The plump assistant relied on stimulant injections daily to maintain energy.
Watching Yiluo work frantically, Richie occasionally wondered if encouraging Emily to learn armor manufacturing had been a mistake. If armor craftsmen had to endure such toil, living as an ordinary person seemed far luckier.
With Yiluo so busy, Richie didn’t dare visit other Squad 105 members. This place lacked soundproof basements and swarmed with Internal Affairs eyes; he didn’t want Internal Affairs seizing any pretext against him.
Thus, Richie lived a simple routine: aside from field testing, he spent all time in his room. Reading books before ten o’clock, he fiddled with his sound receiver after ten, sitting until dawn.
As usual, once night fell, Richie sat at the table by the window, holding an olive-shaped copper coil resembling a coffee pot in his hand.
He had asked repair workshop technicians to fabricate this part for him.
Picking up screws, Richie attached the new part behind the reed tube. His receiver was covered in newly added parts, looking even uglier than its original hideous appearance.
Adjusting the knobs, he listened intently for a moment, a smile gracing his lips. The sound was far purer than before, free of subtle noise.
Operating “Heavenly Hearing,” he transformed into wind once more, chasing breezes through the sky.
The wind remained the same, yet for some reason, Richie sensed a trace of unusual restlessness within it.
Suddenly, Richie captured a peculiar sound—metallic clashing. Metallic clashing was heard daily, for though the repair workshop lay far away beyond normal human hearing, the receiver amplified sounds thousands of times, making sawing and hammering clearly audible.
Yet this metallic clashing differed completely: it sounded like footsteps—footsteps muffled by thick noise-insulating leather pads, producing low, heavy thuds.
Richie shivered, instantly snapping out of his special state.
Remaining silent for two or three minutes, Richie confirmed it wasn’t an illusion. Turning the knobs rapidly, he focused intensely on searching for the sound’s source.
This time took very little time. Clear footsteps echoed in the earpieces, and he could even count the number of armors from the footsteps.
Nine armors in total, all fitted with noise-insulating leather pads, located across a mountain peak about five to six kilometers away in a straight line.
Richie was certain this wasn’t an allied unit.
He stood up immediately, sprinting toward Nora’s room.
The moment he ran out the door, the Internal Affairs sentry on duty was alerted, instantly shining a spotlight over.
Richie ignored the sentry completely. Enemies had crept right under their noses, yet Internal Affairs sentry posts scattered around hadn’t sounded any alarm—evidently, security here wasn’t as tight as outsiders claimed.
Arriving at Nora’s door, the door opened abruptly. Nora stood leaning against the frame with arms crossed over her chest.
Richie wasn’t surprised; he had run hastily with loud footsteps that someone of Nora’s capability could easily hear from inside.
Richie didn’t dare speak aloud, unsure if the stealthy enemy team contained Recon Knights.
He could only use hand signals.
Seeing the signals, Nora showed no immediate reaction, merely tilting her body slightly to listen intently in the direction Richie pointed.
Her crossed arms finally unclasped, and Nora returned a series of hand signals.
Seeing Nora’s signals, Richie relaxed instantly. Nora confirmed his suspicion, instructing him to alert Calli, Lina, Trisli, and Dana, while she went to alert the rest.
Richie naturally obeyed Nora’s instructions; while impressive elsewhere, in Squad 105, he only followed orders.
Doors were knocked open one by one.
By this time, if Internal Affairs sentries still didn’t know trouble was brewing, they would be utterly useless. Somehow notifying others, the portly official was soon alerted, along with a crowd of people.
Howling wild winds swirled as six dark figures glided across a gentle slope like ghosts.
Suddenly, one figure vanished mysteriously, followed by faint sounds below that were rapidly blown away by the howling wind.
Another secret post picked off—they had eliminated over a dozen secret posts along the way.
Kaben glanced at the distant mountain peak, his target for this mission.
He adjusted his observation scope to maximum magnification.
Under the scope, houses, cable cars, and sentry posts on the summit appeared right before his eyes.
Withdrawing his right hand from the armor sleeve, he typed rapidly on the chest keyboard. Soon a line of text appeared, and he pressed the send button to transmit the order.
Kaben disliked these gadgets, preferring old methods like pre-arranged signals via finger taps to pass messages.
Old methods were faster and more direct, yet superiors insisted on using these flashy tools.
About a minute later, a line of text returned—the response from the squad’s sole Recon Knight.
Kaben disliked this Recon Knight, who constantly complained that wind noise drowned out sounds. This time was no different.
He equally disliked this operation; such work belonged to assassins, not regular Knights like them.
Yet he had to do his job, and do it well. This special mission offered generous military merits and rewards.
Kaben opened the map, revealing a full view of Polmo. Turning a knob, he shifted the map to the desired location, zooming in repeatedly until every room and corridor on the summit was clearly visible.
Compared to the command transmission system, he quite liked this map system, no longer needing to stop and fumble through sealed pockets for maps.
Suddenly, another line of text popped up: “We’re off our target position by 1.5 kilometers.”
The message came from Rogelsent.
Kaben disliked this temporary deputy as well, for the guy loved showing off. Yet Kaben had no recourse; Rogelsent was an Honor Knight too, serving as deputy in name without direct subordinate relation. If Rogelsent insisted on separate action, Kaben couldn’t stop him.
Rechecking the map, Kaben grew convinced the guy was deliberately arguing with him. By his calculations, they stood precisely on target.
“Right here,” Kaben typed out a series of orders: “Joe, set up the artillery quickly. Clova, tow those two trailers over here…”
He only issued orders to his direct subordinates, ignoring the Recon Knight and Rogelsent’s group entirely.
With a nine-man squad, storming a mountain peak held little chance of success. They faced disadvantages in numbers and terrain alike. Thus, the plan involved using new large-caliber light artillery to shell the resort, luring guards away. The guards couldn’t all depart, so splitting their forces would allow destroying them piecemeal.
An undeniably bold yet cautious plan.
The artillery was soon brought over—a 120mm light curved-fire cannon with thin walls, designed by the Norman Alliance for long-range raids to provide fire support.
No one expected this thing to hit Knights sprinting in armor; its purpose was bombarding fixed targets.
The subordinate named Joe set up the cannon—essentially a steel tube resting on the ground, supported by side stands.
Another member arrived towing two trailers identical to the ones Squad 105 carried during their deep raid into occupied territory. Opening the trailer lids revealed rows of water-drop-shaped shells with tail fins.
After seven or eight minutes of busy preparation, all arrangements were complete. The Knight named Joe picked up a shell and carefully slid it into the muzzle.
Suddenly, a BOOM echoed as a fire tongue several meters long erupted from the muzzle. A dozen seconds later, red light flashed on the distant summit, followed by rolling explosions.
The first shot landed slightly off, falling near the right edge, but its blast power was impressive, blowing a house into the air.
Joe didn’t rush the second shot, adjusting the cannon angle slightly.
Ideally, hitting the cable car winch would paralyze entry and exit, but hitting it relied on luck, and no one expected ideal outcomes.
“BOOM!” Another shot fired, landing closer to the center. Joe stopped adjusting; curved-fire cannons couldn’t aim precisely anyway, so general direction sufficed.
Shells were loaded one after another, booming reports echoing continuously as explosions lit up the distant peak, followed by fires.
“Enemies coming down! Count between twenty and thirty, mostly medium armor, some light armor, no heavy armor,” the Recon Knight’s warning rang out over comms. With cannon fire ringing, maintaining radio silence was meaningless.
“So few coming down? They look down on us,” Kaben felt relieved. They knew in advance that an Internal Affairs squadron and a Knight Headquarters direct squadron guarded this place, totaling over a hundred Knights, though five Ace Knights posed the true threat.
Fewer than a third came down, meaning at most two Ace Knights led them.
“Joe, hurry up and fire off all remaining shells,” Kaben grew impatient.
“Enemies are two kilometers away,” the Recon Knight warned further, then abruptly fell silent. His earpieces captured strange sounds—a long, sharp whistling like 200km/h wind blowing through a flagpole, or silk fabric tearing, followed by heavy thuds of armor striking the ground.
“Warning! Warning! Another enemy group is jumping directly off the northern cliff! I suspect their armors feature gliding devices!” the Recon Knight shouted.
Enemies splitting into two routes fell within Kaben’s expectations, but he hadn’t expected the second route to descend from the north—a far too dangerous direction.
“Rogelsent, which side will you cover?” Kaben asked while drawing his weapon—a two-meter-long double-bladed curved sword with a central grip and curved blades on both ends.
“Enemies from the north can’t be numerous, and only light armor. You handle that route,” Rogelsent didn’t want to take advantage of Kaben. Two of Kaben’s three subordinates had to stay by the cannon—one firing, one guarding—so Kaben and his remaining subordinate had to hold one direction.
The division of labor was finalized instantly.
Though only six men, they faced at least thirty opponents, yet remained confident in victory because their side possessed two Honor Knights and four Ace Knights, plus terrain advantage.
Positioned on a mountain peak opposite the target peak less than four kilometers away, the steep slopes allowed five men to block all ascending routes.
Enemies had to climb up one by one, only to be slain one by one.
Kaben and Rogelsent seemed to see medals waving at them.
Leading the charge was still Dana, flanked by Lina on one side and Trisli on the other—the strongest offensive combination.
Richie and Merlin followed closely behind.
With Squad 105’s current battle strength, many surpassed Richie, but placing him in this position served entangling duties.
If Dana, Lina, and Trisli failed to take down an opponent, it proved the opponent was exceptionally strong, leaving Merlin and Richie to entangle them while others shifted formations, allowing Rosa and Robin to unleash killing moves.
Squad 105 had practiced this battle formation countless times.
A four-kilometer straight line meant little to Knights, especially since Squad 105 was gliding down from high ground at astonishing speed. Thus, despite departing later, they reached the opposite mountain first.
Leveraging momentum from high-altitude gliding, Squad 105 members dashed directly up the seventy-degree slope.
Suddenly, a sheet of snowy blade light swept down from the summit like falling snow.
Kaben had struck first.
Dana didn’t bother parrying; her mission was pure offense. With a fierce roar, her lance transformed into a purple lightning streak thrusting forward.
Lina didn’t parry either; her Battle Wave combined attack and defense, sending blue-glowing ripples surging forward.
The previous battle had offered her deep insights, elevating her Aura to the verge of turning substance from form.
The blade light cleaved through blue ripples effortlessly, but the ripples sealed back together instantly, expanding outward to deflect the gleaming blade light away.
Trisli displayed a different style. Her sword shifted unpredictably without visible light or shadow, yet incoming blade light was deflected aside entirely.
Both sides moved at high speed, exchanging a move in an instant.
Soaring purple lightning ripped the dark night apart, followed by piercing impact sounds and shattering metal noises.
Dana’s body flew backward, her lance left with only a one-foot grip covered in cracks, and her armor’s gauntlets cracked open under the impact.
Lina was knocked backward as well, the steep slope offering no foothold to leverage strength.
Trisli possessed superior strength; though knocked back, as her body fell, she slapped the cliff wall with her left hand, floating toward an jutting rock.
The opponent fared no better. As an Honor Knight, Kaben surpassed the three individually, but he had fought three at once—and three anomalous Ace Knights at that.
His double-bladed sword had turned into an ordinary blade, the other half shattered to pieces.
Both sides gasped in cold air.
Kaben realized he had encountered tough customers; all three were Ace Knights, and top-tier ones at that.
Relatively speaking, Squad 105 was prepared. As the front three were repelled, Merlin and Richie behind them charged forward together.
Merlin unleashed her signature garrote technique upon striking.
Richie didn’t draw his Knight blade, activating his built-in mirror shield with his left hand while launching an “Octave Sunder” combo with his right.
This exchange differed completely from the previous clash: both sides fought with rapid speed, seeking to bind each other’s limbs entirely.
Seeing Kaben entangled, one of his three Ace Knight subordinates holding another direction charged over with a halberd.
Yet Squad 105 members had crested the summit, three fierce gales surging toward that Ace Knight—the “Death Waltz,” a joint battle formation recently developed by the three sisters.
This technique was vicious: the sisters’ “Beacon Smoke Aura” was dark red, hidden within the night, while “Death Waltz” sealed all directions completely.
The Ace Knight hadn’t seen “Death Waltz” before. Though three-in-one combinations weren’t rare, those reaching Ace rank were rare. Yet his strength was solid; before “Death Waltz” tightened, he sensed danger.
His ten-meter halberd swept out a bright arc—taking the same path as Dana by concentrating full power into a single point, though a halberd offered far more versatility than a lance.
Arcs spread out in all directions, crashing into “Death Waltz” instantly and shattering into pieces under the clash.
Though the first arc shattered, the Ace Knight didn’t stop, unleashing arcs continuously.
One side sought to grind the enemy to pieces, while the other tried breaking the formation—a total stalemate.
The three sisters held off the helper, Merlin and Richie entangled the strongest Honor Knight, and others seized the chance to crest the summit.
Rosa’s rapier quivered violently, turning into thousands of light threads thrusting toward the Honor Knight.
Suddenly, her heart skipped a beat, and her light threads shifted from vertical to horizontal sweeps.
Just as she shifted moves, two cold gleams struck into the forest of light threads from left and right.
Though breaking through bottlenecks relied on drugs and luck, Rosa’s baseline combat power as an Ace Knight was formidable. Her sword technique derived from the Divine Art “Thousand Threads and Strands,” proving incredibly profound.
Thousands of light threads gathered and separated, resembling willow branches in spring wind or turning rain strands. Though the two cold gleams severed many threads, they became entangled by even more, unable to advance or retreat.
Unleashing those cold gleams was an Ace Knight under Rogelsent, while two other Ace Knights rushed over as well.
Rogelsent’s strength was inferior to Kaben’s, but his mind proved far sharper. While holding off enemies on his side, he kept watch on other directions.
He originally worried his Ace Knight subordinates might act arrogantly and invite accidents. The perfect outcome wasn’t slaughtering all enemies in Polmo, but suffering zero losses on their side.
When he saw Kaben’s high-ground attack blocked, he sensed danger; seeing purple lightning soar, that feeling intensified! Seeing two figures entangle Kaben tightly, his head buzzed, suspecting flawed intelligence.
Reports indicated only five Ace Knights guarded this place, yet two faced him and five faced Kaben—numbers no longer matched, and the enemy Ace Knights proved far stronger than normal.
What truly unsettled him was that the enemy Ace Knights wore unfamiliar yet identical armors.
Only one explanation existed: these armors were the rumored new standard armor being developed by the Dante Alliance.
In mere moments, Rogelsent’s deductions approached the truth.
Rumors abounded regarding the Dante Alliance’s new armor development, and Rogelsent had heard multiple versions. Most claimed prototypes would take six to twelve months, with mass production taking a year to a year and a half.
All rumors were wrong. Judging by the scene before him, even if field testing wasn’t finished, it had reached final stages, close to small-scale mass production.
Rogelsent’s mind fell into total disarray.
He knew clearly that the correct choice was abandoning the mission, even abandoning comrades, to escape at top speed and report this news.
Just as he hesitated, the Recon Knight’s urgent warning rang over comms: “Another group descending! Fifty to sixty in number, medium and heavy armors mixed!”
Rogelsent felt his scalp tingle. Normally he wouldn’t care, for rank gaps couldn’t be bridged by numbers alone. But now, pinned by formidable foes, even one extra enemy could be the final straw, let alone fifty or sixty Knights.
“Retreat! Everyone retreat separately!” Rogelsent bellowed.
“Shut up! I’m the captain! Joe, Clova, leave the cannon and come help! We still hold terrain advantage, we can’t let more ascend!” Kaben overruled Rogelsent’s order, issuing new commands.
Conflicting orders left the Ace Knights at a loss.
As Rogelsent prepared to argue, a concentrated surge of Aura rushed at him, shaped like a wild wolf with a wolf’s agility and wildness.
Normally he wouldn’t care about “shaped” attacks, needing only a full-power strike to disperse it, but now it posed trouble: a full-power strike would leave defensive openings, risking attack from surrounding foes.
Rogelsent swung his sword rapidly, weaving a light net in front of himself.
The light net didn’t dissipate, hanging in midair like a real net.
Blocking the wolf with the light net, Rogelsent turned to flee.
Yet upon turning, darkness enveloped his vision, followed by a faint dark-red light within the dark.
Rogelsent sensed danger immediately. His sword slashed out hundreds of beams in an instant—seemingly chaotic, but forming a structured array.
With a loud BOOM, that dark-red light erupted into a sea of fire.
Sword array triggered battle array.
Rogelsent felt numbness in his palm, nearly losing grip on his sword.
Before he could recover, a faint sword beam poked through the fire sea. He had to weave another light net to block it.
That faint sword beam came from genius girl Trisli. She hadn’t glided down with Dana and Lina, leaping onto the summit the moment she stabilized her body.
Yet she didn’t join Merlin and Richie, teaming up with the three sisters to slay an Ace Knight first.
The three sisters alone sufficed to grind any Ace Knight down, and with Trisli far surpassing ordinary Ace Knights, that unlucky Ace Knight was slain instantly.
Eliminating one, the four planned to sweep remaining Ace Knights away, but Rogelsent fled alone, forcing them to shift targets.