King
Chapter 40 - 40 39 High-Spirited_1

40: Chapter 39, High-Spirited_1 40: Chapter 39, High-Spirited_1 Having an extra skill at one’s disposal is always a good thing.

Although Hudson didn’t know the specifics, his intuition told him it had something to do with the compass consuming the soul fire earlier.

Prior to this, his archery skills had been basic at best.

With the arm strength of a knight, he could draw a powerful bow to its full extent.

His accuracy was limited to a range within fifty meters, anything beyond that was down to sheer luck.

Now, with his acute perception, he could easily track the target.

Unfortunately, the bow and arrows in his hand, despite their decent quality, were just ordinary.

If he had been using the specially-made bow and arrows of the Elf Race, the commander of the rebel army would not have escaped today.

“Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh…”

Headstrong Hudson had begun to shoot at will, shooting an arrow at anyone who crossed him, killing dozens in an instant.

It was as if he were in a live-action survival game, only instead of rifles, he had a bow and arrows.

But it did not detract from the thrill of the game at the edge of life and death; it was even more intense.

After emptying an entire quiver, Hudson had soon calmed down and instructed the guards by his side: “Repeat after me.”

“The rebel commander is dead.

Surrender at once if you wish to live!”

“The rebel commander is dead.

Surrender at once if you wish to live!”

…

At first, dozens echoed him, then hundreds.

Eventually, thousands of allied soldiers joined in the chant.

The deafening shout threw the rebel soldiers into chaos.

“Don’t listen to their nonsense.

How could the High Priest possibly…”

The words of a rebel leader were cut short when an arrow, seized from an archer by Hudson, struck him dead.

This was just the beginning, any rebel leader who tried to maintain morale among his troops would be targeted with special attention from Hudson’s arrows.

As long as they were within range, he was able to kill with a single shot.

As a result, he went through two of his powerful bows.

With no one to lead them and their minds in disarray, the rebel soldiers stopped advancing, looking around for the High Priest.

But there was no sign of the grey-robed elder.

Not only was the commander nowhere to be found, but the key rebel leaders were also almost entirely dead or severely injured.

Seeing this, many mentally fragile rebel soldiers collapsed on the spot.

As it turned out, the Courage Potion was not omnipotent.

The collapse had begun, and apart from a few stubborn individuals, most rebel soldiers had lost their desire to fight.

Prudent Hudson did not hastily order a full-scale attack.

Instead, he quietly waited for the rebel soldiers to make their decision.

At this stage of the battle, it didn’t matter whether they surrendered or not.

As long as they waited for the drug to wear off, everything would come to an end.

In Hudson’s view, the rebel soldiers in front of him were similar to opium addicts.

High spirited and battle-ready at first, they quickly wilted once the drug’s effects wore off.

Perhaps the methods of the Skeleton Society to control the rebel soldiers were even more effective than opium, but it was still nothing to boast about.

If it hadn’t been for the limitations on enhanced combat power and the numerous restrictions, and only some after-effects, the Noble Consortium, with its vast resources, would have already started to emulate it.

Hudson didn’t have to wait long before deserters began to emerge from the rebel ranks.

One, two, three, four…

soon, it became a mass desertion.

Watching the rebel soldiers abandoning their weapons and fleeing, Hudson, who had planned to order a pursuit, ultimately took a more compassionate approach.

Why slay them all when they were all victims of circumstance?

Most importantly, they had left the most valuable weapons behind.

Chasing them wouldn’t yield any spoils of war!

Unlike the supplies at the camp, these spoils of war were his legal income, and he could take them away with a clear conscience.

Commanding someone else’s private army and gaining battle achievements and spoils for oneself, while the original owners bore the cost of casualties and damages, was quite comfortable when he thought about it.

The rules of the game were such that, on the Continent of Aslante, serfs had no rights.

Any merits earned in battle belonged to the nobles.

As the sole commander of this battle, Hudson naturally had the right to all the battle achievements.

As for his counterparts in the Fifth Army, they should first explain to the Allied Command why they abandoned their supplies and went out looting!

Those who jumped out to fight for battle achievements, if they had left their elites to guard the grain and grass, and now wanted to share in the spoils, that would still be acceptable.

Regrettably, they had all taken their elite troops to loot, leaving only serf soldiers behind.

Under these circumstances, even if they swallowed their pride, no one would recognize their achievements.

Even the battle report had been formulated in Hudson’s mind.

Winning the battle and saving the nobles’ grain was mainly due to Knight Hudson’s excellent command and the Koslow Clan’s brave fight in the face of bloodshed.

As for the serf soldiers from various families who participated in the battle, they were mere fillers.

A casual mention would suffice; there was no need to waste parchment on them.

“Send the orders, the Supervisory Team is in charge of gathering the wounded and keeping watch; the 100-strong team one to ten is in charge of cleaning the battlefield, collecting spoils; team eleven to twenty-three is in charge of collecting firewood; team twenty-four…”

Hudson commanded triumphantly.

The priority was to clean up the battlefield as quickly as possible and take care of the corpses to prevent the enemy from taking advantage.

The Silver Skeleton had already appeared, who knew if the fleeing necromancers would return, use the corpses on the ground, and create another Undead Pandemic.

Of course, this was just a possibility.

If an Undead Pandemic were so easy to create, the Continent of Aslante would have been dominated by necromancers long ago.

As far as Hudson knew, mysterious necromancers weren’t much different from ordinary mages, except for an extra skill to summon undead creatures.

Theoretically, undead creatures could be summoned infinitely, provided the summoner had strong enough spiritual power to suppress the creatures he had summoned.

This suppression did not only apply to individual undead creatures, but it had to suppress the combined spiritual power of all the undead creatures summoned.

Once the threshold was crossed, the summoner would face backlash from the undead creatures.

The rarity of necromancers was largely due to this backlash from the summoned undead creatures.

After all, the summoned undead creatures could devour living flesh and blood, and elevate their souls — if an undead creature’s spiritual power exceeded that of the necromancer, it could break free from the binding contract.

Being considerate undead creatures, they would naturally want to stay forever with the necromancer who summoned them, as a way of showing gratitude.

By contrast, followers who swore allegiance to some superior being from the undead world appeared to be much safer.

If their own spiritual power was not enough, they could bluff, using a particular ritual or spell, invoking the power of their backer.

Of course, given the distance between their worlds, the power they could borrow was very limited.

Otherwise, what they would have encountered earlier would not have been five Silver Skeletons, but an ocean of skeletons.

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