I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 236 Who's afraid of dying?
In Wattradnoy, the sun rose exceptionally late today, as if even the sun itself was reluctant to witness the bloody battle taking place on the western city walls.

When the first rays of sunlight finally pierced through the thick clouds and shone on this ravaged land, everything had already quietly changed.

The streets beneath the western city wall were a scene of utter carnage. Broken weapons, shattered armor, mangled corpses, and the stench of blood and burning flesh silently testified to the madness of the previous night.

The corpses of the jihadists piled up like mountains. Most of them were farmers, craftsmen, vagrants... ragged, withered faces, fear, despair, madness, and bewilderment were the expressions on their faces before they died.

Their blood seeped into the cracks in the city wall, staining the entire staircase red, and even flowing into the streets below, forming a dark red muddy mess.

Araka stood at the foot of the city wall steps, just like the remaining fifty-odd members of the Jihad Army, unable to go up or leave, blocked by NPC soldiers and players, unable to advance or retreat.

After fighting for more than two hours, the high priest's white robes were already stained with blood and dust, and the faint light on his scepter had dimmed as the last bit of divine magic was exhausted.

Looking at the numb expressions of the people behind and to the sides, and at Alanka's face covered with cracks from the stone, the sadness and self-blame in his heart were like venomous snakes, frantically tearing at his heart.

These fifty-odd people are the only remaining sincere believers who heeded his call and gathered from all over Waltradnoi to fight for Mother Earth. Now, only fifty-odd people remain...

At this moment, Aranka suddenly realized something: from the beginning, he didn't know how many people the Jihad Army had, so much so that even now, he didn't know how many Jihad Army soldiers had died or been wounded, or how many had escaped.

Arlancado hoped that most of the other Mother Goddesses had fled out of fear, rather than fighting to the last for his holy war, so that their corpses would pave the streets of the West End.

What a ruthless person, what a cruel Chris bodyguard.

They are truly a group of professional, cold-blooded war machines, butchers of humanity.

"I lost……"

Aranka's voice was bitter. He looked up as if gazing into the distance, watching the prince's soldiers silently cleaning up the battlefield and dragging away the corpses one by one.

No one cheered, no one spoke. The victory was so brutal that even the victors felt an indescribable sense of oppression... The NPC soldiers didn't cheer, and the players certainly didn't either; the big boss wasn't dead yet.

“I wish to meet with your commander… I want to surrender to him in person.”

Arlanca raised his voice and shouted, his voice hoarse from shouting for so long.

A brief silence fell over the city walls. The soldiers of the Prince's Army looked at each other, while the musketeers' fingers remained firmly on the triggers. No one dared to let their guard down.

After all, they hadn't forgotten that just half an hour earlier, this seemingly weak high priest had used his superhuman strength and strange magic to kill nearly fifty of the prince's guards.

Connie hid behind the battlements in the distance. She also heard Aranka's shouts. She looked down at her hands... her knuckles were covered in dried blood, and the blade of her saber was dull.

She exhaled softly, the white mist dissipating in the cold morning light, and asked herself, "Am I really that good at fighting?"

The answer is no. So many of the prince's guards, who are capable and fearless, have been killed by Aranka. If he shows himself now, who can guarantee that this isn't a scheme by Aranka to lure him out and then launch a decapitation strike?
Connie pondered, and her failure to respond immediately gave some people an opportunity.

"surrender?"

A mocking voice came from not far away. Ye Aonai walked out of the street piled with corpses, looked at the high priest thirty meters away, and casually put his broken military knife on his shoulder.

What makes you think we'll accept it?

Arlanca looked up, the sunlight streaming in from the east making him squint. This movement made the cracks in his stone face appear even more menacing in the sunlight, like a mask that might shatter at any moment.

"Just because of this."

He slowly raised his scepter, its tip pointing backward at the city wall behind him. As he did so, the blood seeping into the cracks in the stone suddenly began to writhe, gathering into thin streams like living things, outlining a huge rune on the surface of the wall. The prince's soldiers on the wall cried out and retreated, their muskets snapping at Araka.

"take it easy."

Arlanca gave a wry smile.

"This is just a demonstration."

With a flick of his wrist, the runes vanished instantly.

"I could make the entire section of the wall collapse, or... I could choose not to."

"Ah!"

Ye Aonai let out a cold laugh.

"Trying to get something for nothing by threatening? Do you think I'm stupid? If you had that ability, wouldn't you have used it last night? Even if you did have that ability, you definitely wouldn't be able to use it right away!"
Brothers, follow me! Let's cut him down and see if he can break down the city wall with our blades!

At Ye Aonaihe's shout, more than thirty players immediately stepped forward, both below and on the city wall.

Of the more than two hundred players, only about fifty are missing. After a night of fierce fighting, only this many remain.

Even though only thirty people remained, these players were still fearless, with high morale and explosive fighting spirit. Despite being exhausted, they stepped forward without hesitation under the leadership of Ye Aonaihe.

"Everyone else, step back! Get back somewhere! Brothers, get ready... to die with me!"

Ye Aonai shouted excitedly, and the other players also raised their weapons.

"Kill the BOSS and get loot!"

A player with a blood-stained face shouted, his battle axe gleaming coldly, and charged down the city wall first. Other players followed closely behind, scrambling to get the first hit, afraid of missing a single strike and earning less contribution points.

Araka stared at the group of madmen who seemed oblivious to death. Suddenly, the cracks in the stone on his face emitted a blinding green light. In a fit of rage, he slammed his scepter into the ground, and a vibrant green shockwave erupted from him.

The two players at the front were instantly thrown back and crashed heavily onto the stone steps of the city wall. One of them broke his spine, making a sickening cracking sound.

"I said..."

Aranka's voice suddenly became unusually loud, as if countless voices were speaking at the same time.

Don't push me!

But the players weren't having any of it. Despite his arrogance, he charged toward Aranka by the city wall, where two members of the Holy War Army stepped forward to try and stop him.

Ye Ao Naihe completely ignored the two idiots who were staggering as they walked. He raised his broken military knife with his right hand and threw it forcefully at Alanka's knee, which was ten meters away.

The saber struck Aranka's leg precisely. He groaned and knelt on one knee, but the scepter in his hand shone even brighter, its tip pointing at Ye Aonaihe.

"The Mother Goddess's punishment!"

(End of this chapter)