Chapter 92 | Reborn as the Last Black Dragon

Blake cleared his throat, straightened his back, and tried hard to recall the basic military knowledge he had crammed the night before.

Of course, the map and notes Oliver had hastily made overnight were still tucked into his shirt, but he decided to rely on his own “talent” for an opening speech first.

“Ahem! Although Blackstone Town is a stronghold, it only has one core—the Black Tower Cathedral.”

As Blake spoke, he fished out the map drawn by Oliver from his shirt and spread it out on the wooden table beside him.

“Look here.” Blake's finger tapped the west side of the cathedral. “There is open ground on both the front and south sides of the cathedral; a frontal assault would be suicide. But the east and north sides are right next to residential houses, with narrow alleys and connected roofs, making them perfect for infiltration.”

Iron Fist leaned in to take a look and couldn't help but nod. “Who drew this map? Even the positions of the drainage ditches are accurate.”

“Of course it was my... scout! Yes, my scout made it!”

Iron Fist raised his gaze from the map and gave Blake a suspicious look. “You have scouts under your command?”

“Of course!” Blake said without batting an eye. “My unit's roster is fully complete; I just didn't bring everyone out today!”

Leopold closed his eyes, pretending he hadn't heard.

“And then what?” Barrow's voice came from the back of the crowd. He had walked over to the table at some point, his gaze falling on the spread-out map.

“If we want to attack the demons' camp, we will inevitably need enough manpower.

“However, most of us are no match for the Demon Race. Relying on just the few of you, I'm afraid there's no way to take down their headquarters. It's simply impossible.”

Chief Barrow remained pessimistic, believing deep down that humans could never defeat the Demon Race.

Leopold looked up. He had long anticipated this situation, but getting the humans armed quickly was an important part of the plan.

“That's why attacking Blackstone Town requires a coalition force—the troops sent by your respective villages, plus Blake's demon squad, plus the few of us.”

“Troops from each village?” Barrow's brow furrowed. “Are you sending our villagers to their deaths?”

“That is why we need to train. Brother Iron Fist, can you teach the militia Martial Skills?”

As soon as Leopold said this, Iron Fist was taken aback before his brow furrowed.

“Martial Skills? I do know a few moves, but that stuff isn't something you can just casually practice and then head onto the battlefield with.

“It took me over a decade of practice to build my current foundation. Having the villagers cram at the last minute to fight the Demon Race, how is that any different from sending them to their deaths?”

“What if there was another person who knows Martial Skills? Could you train a batch of villagers to grasp the basics in a short period of time?”

“You have another person who knows Martial Skills?” Iron Fist finally spoke, his voice slightly deeper than before. “Not to boast, but in this Eastern Border region, the number of humans who know Martial Skills can be counted on one hand...”

Leopold did not answer his question, but simply continued to ask:

“Can you train them or not?”

Iron Fist did not speak. Standing by the table, he fell silent for a few seconds, his gaze landing on Leopold's face before he made up his mind to speak.

“If you can really find another person who knows Martial Skills, I'm confident that within half a month, I can train the candidates selected from each village to a level where they can take the battlefield.”

Leopold smiled and turned around.

“That will be enough.”

Blake listened, completely in the dark. He didn't know what Leopold was plotting either, but since Leopold was confident, this matter was nine times out of ten a done deal.

“Where is this person who knows Martial Skills you're talking about?” Iron Fist pressed impatiently. “If we have to cross mountains and rivers to find them, half a month won't be enough time...”

“Far from the horizon, yet right before your eyes,” Isabella said as she walked over. She squeezed through the crowd to the table, stood beside Leopold, and smiled sweetly at everyone.

Iron Fist's brow furrowed even tighter. He sized Isabella up, his tone carrying obvious disbelief. “My lady, I know you are agile, but that is movement technique. It is a completely different matter from Martial Skills...”

“I didn't say I know Martial Skills. I look down on such things anyway,” Isabella replied, still smiling politely.

Iron Fist's gaze lingered on Isabella's face for two seconds before turning back to Leopold, his brow still furrowed.

“Then who is this person who knows Martial Skills?”

“Actually, there is a young knight in Blackstone Town who seems to be sufficiently proficient in this area...” Leopold finally revealed the answer, looking into Iron Fist's eyes.

Iron Fist's eyes first widened, and then he cried out in shock, “You can't possibly be talking about George, can you? He is the strongest weapon user in the entire Eastern Border!”

Following his exclamation, everyone immediately fell silent.

Even Blake turned his head and raised an eyebrow. “Strongest in the Eastern Border? That's quite a title.”

Blake thought to himself, though the title of the strongest would probably have to change hands now...

“That kid George traveled far and wide with caravans when he was fifteen. By the time he returned at twenty, he could already lift the iron bell at our village entrance with one hand.

“A few years ago, he went to Blackstone Town and allied himself with the Demon Race. It's really a headache.”

Leopold smiled upon hearing this.

“Allied with the Demon Race? I don't think so.”

Iron Fist looked up, confusion in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I fought him at the cathedral in Blackstone Town the other day,” Leopold said. “His swordsmanship is indeed excellent, but it lacked killing intent.”

Barrow interjected coldly from the side, “Doesn't that just prove he is a lackey of the Demon Race? Hesitating to kill, how is he even worthy of being called a knight?”

“On the contrary,” Leopold turned to Barrow. “Someone who has truly allied with the Demon Race would not show mercy to an enemy. Because the Demon Race would not tolerate any sign of ‘insufficient loyalty.’

“Even the sorcerers are branded by the Demon Race to prevent any possibility of rebellion.” Leopold looked around. “Yet he comes and goes freely in Blackstone Town without any restraints, and even the clergy in the cathedral treat him with respect.

“From what I've seen, that is not the kind of treatment an ‘ally’ would receive.

“So, in all likelihood, he has not surrendered to the Demon Race. They probably just reached some sort of cooperation,” Leopold stated.

“That kid George... indeed isn't a bad sort.” Iron Fist lowered his head.

Chief Toby, who had been hiding in the crowd and keeping quiet, quietly raised his eyes. He had already begun calculating in his heart.

This group from Cabin Village seemed simple enough. The current situation was practically a windfall for his Kanu Village.

Leopold and his group indeed had ability. They could control demons and mobilize the manpower of Cabin Village. But the problem was—they were too naive.

Toby had lived for over sixty years and had seen plenty of capable people. The ones who truly succeeded were often not the most capable, but the ones who could survive the longest.

Go to war? Sure, fight.

Attack Blackstone Town? Sure, attack.

In any case, it wasn't the forces of his Kanu Village that were sending troops.

Toby had already calculated the ledger thoroughly in his mind:

If Leopold won, Blackstone Town would be eradicated, and the forces of the Demon Race would withdraw. As the first village to voice its support, Kanu Village would naturally get the biggest piece of the pie.

When the time came, whether it was new trade routes or a voice in some alliance, he, Toby, would have a seat at the front.

If Leopold lost, he wouldn't lose much either. He had only voiced his support, but hadn't actually sent many troops, and Barrow was also holding back.

At worst, he would let Barrow take the lead, and then put on a show of “I knew that bunch was unreliable all along.”

Hedging bets on both sides, he would never lose.

As for that kid named George—Toby had another ledger in his mind.

He had dealt with George's father in his youth, who was a tough nut to crack. Once he set his mind on something, no one could pull him back.

Though he didn't know George's exact situation, he was probably similar deep down.

If that kid could really be brought over, it would be another layer of security for Kanu Village. After all, the title of the strongest swordsman in the Eastern Border carried significant weight.