Amber Sword

Chapter 1152: Chapter 288: First of the Three Swords, Moonlight Eternal

Chai Ge hunched his waist and crawled through the window’s wreckage, along with the sound of seven pairs of iron-bottomed boots crunching on shattered glass, entering the hall. All eight men straightened at once, drawing their swords—the hall was a chaotic scene, bodies sprawled out amid rivers of blood; cultists were everywhere, but the guards around the few big shots had stabilized their positions, particularly the Princess’s entourage, notably with the young man beside the Earl of Yan Castle holding a greatsword, standing strong against numerous foes.

Chai Ge’s gaze immediately locked onto him; he squinted his only remaining eye, the muscles on his face twitched, Chai Ge was notorious among mercenaries, his infamy preceded him. He turned back, most of the other seven were much like him, whether in background or strength—at the Golden Rank, such prowess was enough to be remarkable anywhere; they all silently nodded, having reached this point, their minds held only the possibility of success.

No turning back.

The eight high-order warriors stepped forward, an invisible aura surged towards them. The guards beside each Duke were seized with awe, stopping to look at each other, at a loss for what to do. Though each person of power here commanded at least twenty masters within the Golden Domain, Golden Rank warriors were often talents who acted independently, rarely congregating under the Dukes who ruled vast territories; Griffith seemed to sense something, turning her head—the Duke Xifah smiled faintly, his guards had long stopped fighting; Duke Anlek remained cold, his deep-set indifferent eyes showing no emotion, one hand habitually gripping his sword hilt, as if there was nothing but air before him.

Other nobles paled with fright, the Marquis of Sword Castle Balta appeared tense, inadvertently lowering his gaze in response to the beautiful Half-Elf Girl’s stare. Suddenly, Griffith understood, Viero, Karasu, the Count of Grey Mountain, the Count Vitojin, none were present at the gathering—their stance was quite evident. She gritted her teeth, lowered her eyelids, her eyes twitching.

When she raised her head again, Griffith coldly glanced at the only two Priests present from the Holy Temple—the head figures from the Temple hadn’t appeared, and these two Priests likely couldn’t shoulder much responsibility.

At this moment, Chai Ge frowned, time couldn’t be wasted—his eyes gleamed with bloodlust, pointing at Liwu, "That old fellow is the Court Mage, he mustn’t be allowed to finish his preparation." Eight men nodded simultaneously, bending down to launch an assault on the Royalist entourage, awakening the surrounding nobles to realize these heinous villains’ target was the Princess, at which point they disregarded the Royal Family’s dignity, hastily standing aside to avoid being caught.

The Royal Flower, no longer radiant in this moment. Even the last colors on the banner of Erune gradually faded away completely.

The eight renowned warriors simultaneously assumed an attacking posture, the atmosphere shifted, causing everyone to involuntarily change expressions—

But the Princess said nothing, silently watching the scene, not retreating even a step; the unyielding strength ingrained within her seemed to erupt at this moment, forming a steadfast banner. Even Brand sensed the potential power behind her, sighing slightly, this was faith in that radiant banner, named Erune, and how its nobles had ever reached this point.

Similarly, no turning back.

Brand raised his sword.

"Haha, a genius!" Chai Ge’s eyes lit up, finally seeing that Brand had actually touched the Elemental Wall; geniuses are also prideful, and Chai Ge’s favorite hobby was snuffing out such pride, he couldn’t help but smirk cruelly, although Brand was strong, he was slightly weaker compared to him; moreover, he firmly believed in his combat experience, incomparable to these greenhorns.

Even geniuses need time to develop, though often they lack this time due to their youth.

Chai Ge licked his lips, as if savoring the long-desired taste of victory and sweet blood. That bloody wine flowing into his parched throat, its delightful taste made every pore shiver with excitement; each of Chai Ge’s sword strikes was perfect, allowing him to revel in the battle with exhilaration.