Henwell remains unaware that he won't encounter any more professional enemies on the road ahead. However, he senses that Tansentia's presence is nearby once again.

  This ability to sense auras is, so far, Henwell's only extraordinary skill. It could be called a talent, and it certainly serves as one of Henwell's ace cards. It's this very ability to detect Tansentia's presence that has made Henwell meticulously pn his moves, wary of being discovered.

  In the following days, due to Tansentia's warning, the noble alliance is forced to adjust their pns and reassign their ambush teams. This gives Henwell and his companions a bit of a breather. However, the minor tasks set by the nobles still tend to be time-consuming.

  After more than half a month, having visited the local nobles, Henwell prepares to head to his final destination. Over the past month, his two attendants have almost fully recovered, regaining about eighty percent of their combat strength. Henwell has deyed his journey slightly for this reason, knowing that an intense battle is likely looming ahead.

  As Henwell anticipated, the nobles have indeed gone all out this time. They have assembled a force of over a hundred knight retainers, all equipped with warhorses and armor, ready to charge head-on at Henwell and his companions.

  Upon seeing this formidable cavalry, Henwell realizes there's no escaping it. The only option is to brace themselves and charge forward. Fortunately, since these are disenfranchised knight retainers, they are not equipped with nces or other long weapons, relying instead on swords and battle axes. This gives Henwell and his two companions, who are armed with longer weapons, a significant advantage.

  However, the sheer number of opponents poses a huge risk in a frontal assault. Using bows for mounted archery is even less feasible, as the enemy also has archers. If Henwell opts for a knightly battle, the enemy will engage accordingly. But if he dares to use archery, they won't hesitate to respond in kind, turning the encounter into a chaotic archery skirmish.

  Henwell gnces at his over two-meter-long war nce and resolves to craft an even longer cavalry nce in the future. For now, he has no choice but to charge into the fray with his war nce.

  Henwell's horsemanship is top-notch, a survival skill honed during his daring escape through the Ika Kingdom. He is no stranger to mounted combat, having dedicated over a year to refining his skills.

  In this confrontation, Henwell opts against the traditional cavalry charge. Instead, as he crashes into the enemy ranks, he skillfully maneuvers his nce, thrusting and parrying, dismounting enemies within a two to three-meter radius.

  After the initial charge, Henwell emerges unscathed, and his two attendants suffer no serious injuries. In contrast, over twenty opponents are unseated by the trio. In such high-speed cshes, being unhorsed often means certain death.

  Both sides instinctively turn their horses for another head-on charge. This time, Henwell takes three hits from enemy weapons. Although he manages to absorb some of the impact with his flexibility and exceptional horsemanship, his armor still bears deep marks. The enemy loses another ten or so men, but Henwell's two attendants suffer various injuries.

  Henwell gnces back at them. Before he can speak, Rawkins decres, "Master, we can't leave! This is your Path of Honor, and it's ours too!"

  Ay adds, "Master, fighting by your side is our duty!"

  Henwell nods gently, "Raise the family banners!"

  After a brief hesitation, they unfasten their packs, assemble the fgpoles, and hoist two banners. One bears the emblem of a silver wolf's cw, and the other depicts the map of the Phoenix family territory.

  Taking a deep breath, Henwell grips his nce, spurs his horse, and charges into the enemy cavalry once more. After this round, nearly twenty more opponents fall. However, Henwell's armor is now cracked in several pces, and even the chainmail underneath is damaged. Blood seeps through the gaps in his armor, staining his white warhorse red.

  As for his two attendants, their situation is even more dire. Despite trying to knock down enemy fgs in the chaos to reduce the attacks they face, the high-speed charges leave little room for reaction. Weapons can easily inflict fatal wounds. Both attendants now wield their swords single-handedly, sacrificing some defensive agility. This resulted in several fierce wounds appearing on both of them. Without timely medical attention, their chances of survival are slim.

  Henwell turns to see the resolute expressions in his attendants' eyes and refrains from trying to dissuade them. He taps his chest pte with his nce and says, "It's an honor to fight alongside you!"

  The two attendants, spitting blood, reply in unison, "Fighting with you is our honor too!"

  Though the enemy ranks have been halved, over forty foes still remain. This next charge could very well be the st for his two attendants. Henwell lets out a furious roar and spurs his horse into a frenzied charge.

  Another bloody and deadly csh ensues. Henwell raises his nce, knocking away a battle axe embedded in his armor. His two attendants sustain more severe injuries, struggling to stay upright and avoid falling from their horses. Yet, they cling desperately to the banners, their swords lost in the chaos.

  Despite Henwell's fierce efforts, nearly thirty enemies remain. The next charge could be fatal for his attendants, and Henwell himself risks severe injury. But this is the life he's chosen—one where he's paid to gamble with his life for great rewards.

  Henwell's eyes harden with determination, and a faint aura of bloodlust begins to emanate from him.

  Just as Henwell is about to charge again, a cloud of dust rises in the distance, heralding the arrival of a rge cavalry force. These knights wear bck cloaks embzoned with the image of a fortress wall.

  About half an hour earlier, as Henwell's battle began, a military force had approached from the west. This army isn't vast, numbering only around a thousand, with over three hundred cavalry and the rest infantry.

  Unlike other armies, these infantrymen maintain a tight formation, their steps synchronized as they jog behind the slowly advancing cavalry, never breaking ranks. Their rhythmic footfalls strike the ground like drumbeats.

  The leading general observes the skirmish from afar and asks, "Who are these people? How dare they fight on the duchy's main road? Is there no one to stop them?"

  "Lord Fabio, I believe that's the Phoenix d, the one on the Path of Honor," replies an aide.

  Fabio scoffs, "So the other side must be the noble alliance's ambush squad? So many against a mere child and his two companions—how disgraceful!"

  After watching Henwell and his attendants make their final charge, Fabio can't help but admire them. "What a d! He’ll make a formidable general one day. Such talent shouldn't perish in the petty political squabbles of the nobility. Rey my orders—save them!"

  As Fabio speaks, a hint of mencholy crosses his face, but his eyes harden with resolve as he issues the command to rescue Henwell and his companions.