The barbarians, having reached the final tier of their unlocked troop progression within the system, truly allowed the world to witness just how formidable the system's top-tier troops were.
Their strength was unparalleled, yet their martial skills remained as refined as a master's, even when outnumbered. They would autonomously form ranks upon charging, maintaining order even in chaotic brawls.
The Holy Sith Kingdom's guard corps consisted of meticulously selected greatsword-wielding battle aura users, all towering men over two 'ren' tall, as mastering a greatsword required a robust physique.
However, when facing the three 'ren' tall barbarians, they seemed like mere adolescents. A single punch from the barbarians, heavier than a stone roller, would be enough to consider any who remained standing a hero, only to be overwhelmed by a barrage of further blows.
Conversely, the barbarians endured four or five punches and kicks without uttering a sound.
After all, these blows were as feeble as an infant's compared to their leader's iron fists.
Both sides maintained restraint, unwilling to cause fatalities. Therefore, despite the chaotic scene and constant wails, those injured would only need about half a month to recover and get out of bed.
In just a short while, the Holy Sith Kingdom's guard knights were sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain.
"Quick, get the Zhadai Iron Men in there!"
Seeing imminent defeat, the opposing officer urgently issued the command.
Several alchemists wearing gray hoods began touching the rings on their fingers, chanting a string of bizarre syllables.
As the chanting concluded, the ring-like devices emitted a blinding golden light, as dazzling as the sun, directly into the bodies of the Iron Men standing at the forefront, silently bearing enormous banners.
When the golden light dissipated, the black iron giants, seven or eight 'ren' tall, abruptly shot golden light from their pitch-black eyes, planted the banners into the ground, and lumbered heavily into the fray.
Zat roared, his iron fists unleashing a thunderous barrage upon one of the Iron Man's abdomens.
A crisp 'clang' resonated, causing everyone to instinctively cover their ears.
Instantly, the barbarian clutched his reddened fist, his face etched with horror: "What is this thing? How is it so hard?"
He was a towering figure, over three 'ren' tall, weighing nearly 1,500 pounds, his muscles sculpted to perfection with no excess. After numerous enhancements from the God of War's blessings, his strength was unquestionable, enough to kill a knight in plate armor with a single punch.
Yet, now his fist landed on the opponent, only causing it to stagger back five steps, leaving merely a fist-shaped imprint on its dark metallic abdomen.
Unbeknownst to him, the alchemists were even more horrified. As the creators of these Zhadai Iron Men, none were more aware of the alchemy constructs' strength.
Each one weighed a staggering forty to fifty thousand pounds, its footsteps causing the earth to tremble. A full-speed charge could shatter the gates of a small town. Yet, now it was forced back five steps by a flesh-and-blood creature.
"Stop!"
Just then, a loud shout echoed from afar. A bald, heavily built man with a tattoo on his arm and a broken sword on his back charged in, the Lionheart Vanguard's Redsword Commander, Mandela.
He was a master-level battle aura cultivator. Battle aura cultivation ranged from entry-level, mastery, profound, master, to swordsaint, with master being equivalent to an epic-level powerhouse.
In a world where legend-level was the ultimate power, epic-level powerhouses were symbols of prominent status.
Moreover, he bore the Bloodsword Magic Crest and wielded the powerful magical weapon, the Bloodmagic Redsword, placing him among the top epic-level powerhouses.
His status alone qualified him to halt the conflict.
But while he had the qualifications, whether they would listen was another matter.
Neither the Holy Sith Kingdom nor even the lord himself had ceased fighting.
Not that he had lost his mind, but he deeply understood the principle of "If you want peace, prepare for war." Since they had already started fighting, only a thorough beating would bring about peace.
"Everyone, get out of the way! Let me handle this!"
Those Iron Men were indeed the Holy Sith Kingdom's pride, instantly making the barbarians hesitant. Though given time, they could be dealt with.
However, the lord couldn't wait to test the mettle of these contraptions.
He centered his energy in his dantian, let out a low roar, and delivered a simple, unadorned straight punch with thunderous force onto an Iron Man's navel.
A deafening 'clang' erupted, causing everyone to cover their ears in pain and crouch to the ground.
The black iron giant's navel instantly caved in, revealing a clearly visible and terrifying dent.
The seven or eight 'ren' tall Zhadai Iron Man emitted a mournful 'crack', the golden light in its eyes flickering erratically. Its tens of thousands of pounds of heavy body instantly flew backward, crashing into Gonda's city walls.
Alas, it only chipped a few fragments from the sturdy walls before slowly sliding down, collapsing to the ground with its head lowered.
These metal giants had strange faces, their hair curled and fused with their heads, deep-set eyes, high-bridged noses, prominent cheekbones, and expressions that were neither smiling nor serious, but rather, one could say, serene.
Their bodies were covered in shimmering, mysterious, and profound quicksilver inscriptions, clearly forming a special alchemical magic array, the source of their every movement.
But at this moment, these quicksilver inscriptions flickered faintly, as if they would dissipate at any moment. The Zhadai Iron Man also emitted thick smoke, desperately raising a single finger before letting it fall limply.
...
Fu Jin stroked his staff, silently reflecting on whether he had offended the Highcliff Lord in his past words.
...
Masha's cherry-like mouth widened. Her stunned expression was especially innocent and beautiful.
...
"That brat is still so violent!" Mandela stroked his bald head, smacking his lips.
...
All the people of the Holy Sith Kingdom stared blankly at the Zhadai Iron Man, now reduced to scrap metal, and the towering Deberian.
Why was the invincible Zhadai Iron Man reduced to scrap with a single punch? Why did this human possess such strength? Why did they clash with each other? They desperately searched for answers in their minds.
The simplest and purest display of brute force delivered an absolutely shocking visual impact. Everyone fell silent, even the screaming knights on the ground closed their mouths.
They only crawled away from the lord as far as possible.
The remaining four Zhadai Iron Men halted. Not because they had gained consciousness, but because the alchemists couldn't bear to see their remaining seedlings suffer the same fate.
"Stop!"
Mandela seized the opportunity to walk out from Gonda City. A hundred or so Lionheart Vanguard Redswordsmen, fully armed, marched in orderly ranks, advancing with small steps.
The Starmonth Knight Order, clad in silver moon and star plate armor, followed behind, led by the middle-aged noble who had lost all aristocratic decorum.
These Starmonth Knights were directly under the king's command, usually responsible for managing Gonda's security. Their strength was debatable, but their equipment was definitely extravagantly luxurious.
"Use the Zhaidai Gold Man! Cassius!" Just as the situation seemed about to stabilize, an exasperated roar came from the Holy Sith Kingdom's convoy, and a fairly handsome young man opened the car window, revealing his true face.
Mandela's eyebrows knotted together like a copper lock, unable to contain his helplessness and anger.
"My dear Holy Sith Kingdom Prince, Your Highness Toman," he suppressed his anger and advised, "This conflict was just an accident! And we cannot escalate it into a terrible, bloody conflict, which will affect our two countries' diplomacy!"
"Damn Deberians, are you threatening me?" Toman cursed angrily.
"Mandela, let him come. I want to see how awesome this gold or whatever man is, and how many sword strikes he can withstand from me!" Levi sneered, the corner of his mouth twitching.
He snapped his fingers, and a giant sword burning with dragon flames appeared out of thin air, planted in the open space. The sword's length alone was comparable to those Zhaidai Iron Men.
Standing beneath it felt like a mantis gazing up at a butcher knife.
Even from a distance, everyone felt their cheeks burning and their hair as if it were about to be scorched.
Everyone immediately stopped.
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"Boss, should I have my little ones burn all these guys to charcoal?" A red dragon dragon soul emerged from the dragon crystal on the hilt, instantly absorbing the dragon flames on the sword, forming a flame dragon dozens of 'ren' long, looking disdainfully at the humans below in the sky.
Although it no longer had a body, it could still control the dragon flames in the dragon crystal. As a legendary red dragon's dragon crystal, the elemental power it contained was unimaginable.
These dragon flames were enough to melt refined steel!
"It's a legendary magical weapon! And inlaid with a dragon crystal! But why is there a dragon soul?"
An alchemist exclaimed in surprise.
Not that he recognized the weapon, but its own magical power was as vast as the sea. Just standing there was like a sun, impossible to ignore.
The power of a legendary weapon, like that of a legendary powerhouse, made people tremble at the mere sight of it. Simply standing there was enough to prove everything.
"Oh, there are actually people who recognize it."
"That's right, this legendary weapon was given to me, Duke, by a legendary Balor Flame Demon. The sword body is made from the bones and flesh of the legendary red dragon 'Crimson Wing', and it is also inlaid with a dragon crystal, allowing it to control dragon flames."
The lord stood with his hands behind his back, casually narrating the sword's origin.
"Its victims are enough to build a small town." Levi leaned on Digen's Howl, glancing sideways at the group: "I don't mind making this town more lively with more people!"
"You bold bumpkin, I am the prince of the Holy Sith Kingdom, you should apologize to me, and pay for my Zhaidai Gold Man and the medical expenses of my knights!"
This prince, perhaps his brain had been eaten by goblins, actually angrily began to demand compensation.
"Where did this idiot come from? You provoked a dispute in our Deberian territory for no reason. My subordinates are all seriously injured, you should pay us for medical expenses and mental damage! Oh, and the cost of site repairs!" The lord rolled his eyes, not polite in the slightest.
Originally, dozens of strong men from Highcliff were standing there, not a single one falling, calm and composed, not looking injured at all. Hearing this, they instantly collapsed to the ground, curling up and rolling around, wailing.
They were as miserable as could be, making people wonder what inhuman torture these barbarians had suffered.
Having been born in the palace since childhood, Toman had never seen such a shameless scene, and looked shocked, "You... you..."
"You what you?" The lord didn't give him a good look, saying viciously: "You can't win in a fight, and you won't let us leave, what exactly do you want to do?"
He flicked the blood on his fist onto the prince's sharply defined face.
Toman incredulously reached out and touched his handsome face, looking at the blood on his fingers, instantly turning red, becoming angry out of humiliation. He jumped off the carriage and was about to take off his white gloves and throw them at the lord, "You dirty bumpkin, I want to duel with you!"
This was a duel method still commonly used among nobles. As long as the other party caught the thrown white gloves, it meant they accepted the duel.
Fortunately, as soon as he said the words, he was carried back by his terrified subordinates.
A Zhaidai Iron Man had been destroyed with one punch, and anyone with eyes could see that the strength of the two sides was not on the same level at all. Rushing to duel was tantamount to a praying mantis trying to stop a chariot, with being easily crushed into minced meat being the only outcome.
This made the lord, who had been full of anticipation, look disappointed.
Although he, a dignified Lionheart Knight and Lord of Highcliff, bullying a useless prince was suspected of using his status to bully the small, there was no doubt that it would increase his reputation somewhat.
After all, even a mosquito leg is still a leg.
"Enough! This farce ends here!"
More soldiers surged in from afar, led by a handsome young man wearing a gilded embroidered plate armor, looking quite presentable.
"Toman, I will have the Minister of Finance compensate you for your Zhaidai Iron Man, and the injured knights will be treated by the court physicians." After the other party finished speaking to the weak-minded prince, he looked at the Lord of Highcliff again.
"And Lord Levi, please do not continue to add fuel to the fire. You will enter the city first, and I will take full responsibility for this farce here."
"Who are you?" The lord asked.
"I am Bedoir, the prince of Deber!" The other party's tone was stiff, emphasizing it again.
...
It was rumored that the king of Deber had black hair, but this prince had dazzling blond hair.
Although Levi had heard that the queen was also blonde, the kings of the Deber Kingdom, from the first one, had all been black-haired, without exception.
He had chatted with Layton about this topic, and Layton's answer was "racial resilience".
Then the question of whether this prince was really a prince of Deber was questionable.
However, these things had nothing to do with the current lord, who was leading a group of reckless men in line, preparing to enter the city, and by the way, setting up a dragon gate formation to kill time.
"I heard that our king established the Garden of Ten Thousand Flowers, but there are still no children to this day, the reason for which is truly strange."
Entering the city was originally something that Highcliff was not justified in doing. With a step down, the lord naturally took a step back.
