Way of Overlord
Chapter 170: Wait

Chapter 170: Wait

Qiao Meng is running away and his flight through the city streets is a harrowing experience.

Looking out from the curtains of his horse carriage, he could see blood flowed freely on the city road like water during rain

On the side of the road, houses is engulfed in flames, and chaos reigned as horses trampled over fleeing citizens.

The sound of screams and echoes of shouts could be heard all over

The once-thriving city now become a scene of suffering and death.

Despite the dire situation, Qiao Meng couldn’t blame General Xi Yan for the city’s fall.

Right now, as he is fleeing the city he understood that if Xi Yan had been given more authority, with support from the Xu clan and perhaps reinforcements from Bingzhou or other northern powers, the city might have had a chance to hold out against the barbarian invaders.

However, the missed opportunities and stubborn decisions had brought Nurshira to this point of devastation.

"Xu Bailong!" he said with gritted teeth.

"This is killing me" With the fall of this city, how could he survive in the northern region. He had to run away and go back to the south.

The Yellow Turban Rebellion had thrown the Yan Empire into chaos, and many governors were forced to take extreme measures to quell the uprisings within their own territories.

While there is strict imperial laws against governors moving their armies across regional borders without explicit permission or orders from the Emperor, these are extraordinary times with extenuating circumstances.

If Nurshira could have held out for a few more days or even weeks, there might have been a chance for reinforcements from other regions to arrive and help defend the city.

However, the swift fall of Nurshira has turned those hopes into ashes, leaving the city and its people at the mercy of the barbarian invaders.

As the city of Nurshira descended into chaos, its inhabitants resembled a frenzied sea, surging and churning, with panic in their eyes and despair in their hearts.

The once-bustling streets now resembled a labyrinth of terror, with people darting in all directions, seeking refuge from the approaching tempest that is the grassland warriors

Today, they learned to fear once again.

Desperation painted the faces of those who clung desperately to their homes, makeshift weapons in hand, their eyes aflame with a flicker of resistance.

But alas, their hoes and pitchforks, once tools of labour, were pitifully inadequate against the Steppe warriors.

These Steppe warriors, raised amidst the harsh trials of the grasslands, is like seasoned predators toying with their prey.

With a fluid grace born of countless battles, they wielded their weapons like extensions of their own bodies.

Their movements is a deadly move and each strike is lethal, like a dance, an art form of killing honed over a lifetime.

The farmers, their courage admirable but their skills mismatched, swung their crude weapons with trembling hands.

But in this cruel battle of life and death, their efforts were but child’s play in the eyes of these seasoned warriors that rides on horses and feasted on meat.

Blades met flesh, and heads is severed from shoulders. Limbs fell like wilted flowers, blood staining the cobbled streets in macabre patterns.

Like headless chicken they run, so headless people they became

Blood-soaked streets bore witness to the relentless advance of the Steppe warriors, their blades indiscriminately cutting down anyone who dared stand in their path.

The once-tranquil thoroughfares is now a harrowing landscape of devastation, marked by fires that consumed homes and structures, casting an eerie glow over the city ruination.

In the midst of this horrifying spectacle, the city’s residents were subjected to unimaginable horrors.

Women are torn from their families, abducted by marauding warriors, while men who dared to protect their loved ones met grisly fates at the hands of merciless blades.

The city defenders, outnumbered and outmatched, resembled desperate insects futilely attempting to halt the relentless advance of a colossal boulder.

Amidst the cacophony of war cries and the anguished wails of the fallen, cries for help and prayers for mercy echoed through the city’s once-tranquil streets.

"Whoosh!"

"Whoosh!"

"Whoosh!"

The once defiant city walls had now become a place of despair.

The eerie sound of arrows slicing through the air filled the atmosphere, creating a haunting symphony of death.

Arrows rained down indiscriminately, finding their mark among both the defenders and soldiers of the city.

Panic and chaos ensued as the defenders and soldiers were mercilessly felled by this relentless barrage of arrows.

The city’ residents, caught within the deadly crossfire, became unintended victims, their bodies pierced by these lethal projectiles.

Like grotesque training dummies, they bore the painful burden of arrows embedded in their flesh, their anguished cries joining the cacophony of battle.

Amidst the nightmarish chaos, a lone warrior emerged, a vision of grim determination and power.

His face, etched with a fierce smile, exuded an aura of an Overlord, a conqueror of worlds. With each step of his horse he seemed to defy the very fires of hell itself.

This figure rides his horse with a grace and ferocity that were awe-inspiring.

In his wake, he left a trail of devastation, smashing and slicing through the unfortunate residents of the city as if they were mere paper.

His sword flashed like lightning, and his presence alone struck terror into the hearts of those who crossed his path.

This is none other than Aeryon.

On the other side, Belarion rides his horse, laughing heartily. They look at each other and smile

"Kill!" both of them shouted in unison.

...

Amidst the chaos that is engulfing the northern gate, the other chiefs stationed at different gates had also heard the distant sounds of screams and the unmistakable clamour of a city in turmoil.

Dama, who stand resolute at the southern gate, clenched his fist upon receiving this news.

Dama is mounted on a sturdy steed, with his most trusted warrior, Katakura, riding beside him.

He scanned the city wall ahead, his eyes reflecting a mix of determination and concern.

"Aeryon has breached the gate," Dama declared in a matter-of-fact tone. Katakura furrowed his brow, knowing Dama intentions all too well.

"You want to push forward?" Katakura inquired, seeking confirmation. Dama nodded, a firm resolve in his eyes.

"What do you think, Katakura?" Dama inquired

Katakura didn’t provide an immediate response to Dama question.

"Hyargh!"

Instead, he spurred his horse into action, charging toward the battlefield.

However, rather than engaging in combat, he focused on evading the incoming arrows from the city’s defenders.

With his shield held high and his spear ready, he weaved between projectiles, determined to assess the situation on the city walls.

For several tense minutes, Katakura rode back and forth along the length of the wall, surveying the defense.

When archers took aim at him, he deflected their attacks with practiced ease. Finally, he returned to Dama side.

Dama, meanwhile, had decided to hold his position for the time being, allowing his men to prepare and position ladders for a siege.

Unlike Aeryon, he lacked sophisticated siege equipment, but ladders were a resource they could easily assemble.

Katakura, having observed the situation on the city walls, offered his counsel.

"Wait," he advised, implying that a moment of patience might be wiser before committing to their next move.

Dama impatience is evident in his furrowed brow and clenched fists.

He longed for action, itching to join the fray.

Yet, he still held deep respect for Katakura’s judgment and wisdom, which kept him from rushing into a potentially unfavourable situation.

With a heavy sigh, Dama asked Katakura, "How long?" He was eager for a timeframe, a sign that their opportunity to strike might come soon.

Katakura gazed once more at the city walls, his eyes scanning for any signs of weakness. A smile played on his lips as he considered their chances.

"Not long," he reassured Dama.

Dama sighed again, this time more audibly, and settled into a waiting stance.

It is clear he is growing increasingly restless, his leg tapping impatiently.

A minute or so passes and then Katakura who is looking at the city walls said.

"This is the time" Dama laughed and the moment Katakura said that he rides his horse into battle

Dozens of arrows from the walls flies toward him

Laughing in joy, he swings his sword, a gust of wind cut through the air, one swing of the sword, twelve arrows were deflected to the side!

The One-Eyed Dragon roars and the world is shocked!

Dama shows his prowess and the warriors of the Esbizuk tribe roars like lions unleashed.

Dama brought out a grappling hook from his back pouch, swing it four times in the air and then throws it toward the city wall.

"I am Dama, the One-Eyed Dragon! Take the gates and take the riches. Today, we will feast!"

his shout echoes below the city wall, his warrior answer with a shout, the attack become fiercer.

The morale rises instantly when Dama enters the battle. This is the effect he has on his men.

Dama since his debut rarely loses. And in the few cases he did lose, he always managed to return back to exact his loss.

Right now, seeing their chief now entering the battle alongside them, how could they not be more motivated?

Dama warriors attack become even more fierce

Dama run up toward the wall and before one of the defenders tries to push the grappling hook away, Dama pull the grappling and then kick the wall as he soars into the air

BOOOM!

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