I'm not a Witcher anymore.

"Surround her! Kill her!"

Several guards cavalrymen squeezed the horse's belly tightly.

The warhorse neighed in pain and charged forward on the frozen dirt road, while several lances thrust at Sakia from different directions.

Sakia didn't even blink.

She stepped forward to meet the spearhead at the front, lowered her body, and bumped into the warhorses, just missing the spear shaft.

He slashed horizontally with his two greatswords.

The steel breastplates of the two guards at the front were forcibly torn open by the sword.

With a piercing, metallic clang, blood gushed from behind the cracked armor, and two bodies tumbled off their horses.

Sakia turned as the sword struck, and the heavy greatsword whistled past once more. The sounds of bones shattering and screams erupted in succession, and the remaining two guards, along with their horses, were thrown to the ground, their severed limbs and bodies mingling with a shower of crimson blood.

The hail of bullets crumbled, and her four personal guard cavalrymen were slaughtered in the blink of an eye.

But at that moment, three other personal guard cavalrymen attacked from the side.

Warm blood of their comrades splattered on their masks, yet their warhorses continued to gallop forward. At this distance, it was too late to rein in their horses.

Sakia hadn't sheathed her greatsword after swinging it around once.

She lowered her body following the momentum of the sword, pressed down on the hilt with both hands, and let the blade glide across the frozen mud, slashing out from the opposite direction.

Click!

With a chilling cracking sound, the two leading warhorses had their forelegs severed.

The weight of the warhorses themselves, combined with the terrifying inertia of their charge, caused them to crash to the ground amidst mournful cries.

The two guards on horseback were thrown out like rag dolls; one crashed into the ground, his neck broken on the spot; the other slammed into the body of the fallen horse.

The last cavalryman screamed in terror and desperately tugged at the reins.

But his warhorse could no longer stop and crashed straight into the overturned horse carcass in front of him.

With a dull thud, the cavalryman was sent flying through the air by the tremendous impact, crashing heavily at Saqia's feet, breaking his bones and tendons.

Before he could even cough up a mouthful of blood, Saqia expressionlessly raised her boot and stomped on his sternum, shattering it.

This series of bloody massacres happened in the blink of an eye.

The remaining dozen or so guards could no longer hold on; they desperately pulled on the reins and scattered in all directions.

Saqia pulled out a North Wind bomb and accurately threw it onto the cavalry's escape route.

boom--!

The frigid white stream suddenly exploded. Several light cavalrymen who had just charged out were instantly frozen on their horses, turning into lifelike ice sculptures. Then, as their warhorses staggered and fell to the ground, they shattered into countless crystalline fragments.

Before the cold mist had completely dissipated, Saqia's figure tore through the icy white vapor and crashed straight into the formation of the last remaining royal guard cavalry.

Desperate screams echoed mournfully across the cold wilderness.

Meanwhile, the Nilfgaardian infantry, retreating from the Bridge of Lamentations, also saw the scene on the road to the east.

They had originally hoped to return to their own team.

But the other side of the road was already in complete chaos.

Sargevenli was dead, and his personal guards scattered and fled, their horses, corpses, and frozen riders blocking the road.

Sakia's silver-armored figure moved swiftly through the cold mist, each strike of her greatsword accompanied by screams and blood.

The road we came by is blocked.

Behind them, the sounds of battle cries were still approaching from the direction of the bridgehead.

The Nilfgaardian soldiers, who had just escaped from the roadblock, stopped on the riverbank and realized that they had nowhere to retreat.

"Jump into the river!"

Someone shouted something, and the Nilfgaardian soldiers, whose mental defenses had collapsed, rushed into the icy river as if they had gone mad.

Zig moved from the rooftop to the riverside watchtower.

Watching the routed soldiers jump into the river, he put his fingers back on the bowstring.

If even one of these people escapes, everything that just happened will be brought back to the Nilfgaardian army.

Next time, it won't just be a light cavalry company.

He did not put down the bow.

Draw the bow, aim, and release the string.

Whoosh—Pfft!

A blood flower bloomed on the river surface, and a soldier who was frantically dog-paddling felt a jolt in his back and slowly sank to the bottom of the water.

call out!call out!call out!

Each buzzing sound meant another corpse was floating in the river. Every ash wood arrow sought its target with perfect accuracy.

The blood gradually spread along the water, turning the river below the Bridge of Lamentation into a shocking dark red.

Until the last struggling soldier was pierced through the back of the head by an arrow, the river returned to deathly silence, with only the soft sound of water lapping against the shore and the corpse remaining.

Thus, the entire Nilfgaardian light cavalry company of one hundred was wiped out.

……

Beneath the Bridge of Lament, dark red water slowly spreads along the riverbed.

Ahead of the bridge, there were discarded shields, overturned warhorses, and corpses frozen into pieces everywhere.

The cold wind swept across the wilderness, carrying the thick, pungent smell of blood straight into people's lungs.

Sieg slung his longbow back over his shoulder and climbed down from the watchtower.

Ignoring the gazes cast upon him by the Temerian soldiers, he stepped over the remains of a warhorse with its forelegs severed and walked toward Saqia.

The girl stood in a pool of blood and mud, wiping away bits of flesh and blood from the blade of her sword.

Zieg glanced at her shoulder armor and waist.

"Are you injured?"

"No." Sakia twisted her wrist, and the greatsword slid precisely into its sheath on her back, making a dull friction sound.

She glanced down at the faint white marks on the surface of the armor.

"Their weapons couldn't even scratch my plate armor."

After speaking, her gaze passed over Sieg and landed on Dandelion, who was walking across the Bridge of Lament with the Temerian soldiers.

Zoltan also walked over from the bridgehead at this moment.

His expression was very serious.

"We'd better not stay here too long."

Zig looked at him.

Zoltan lowered his voice.

"A few years ago, right after the Second Nilfgaardian War ended, I went to Novigrad with some old friends and passed by the vicinity of White Orchard. I heard quite a few rumors back then."

"This area is under the jurisdiction of a baron, and none of the rumors about it are pleasant."

"It's alright, we'll set off now," Zieg said.

Zoltan breathed a sigh of relief.

"That's good. I don't want to have just survived the black-clad dog only to be dragged away by some noble lord for questioning."

No sooner had he finished speaking than several low snorts of warhorses came from not far away.

"Speaking of leaving, I have some very good news to share."

Dandelion walked over through the mess, clutching four rough leather reins tightly in his hands.

Those horses originally belonged to the Nilfgaardian Royal Guard. They had glossy coats, long frames, and broad chests, and even after the chaos, they were still more spirited than ordinary packhorses.

Dandelion held the reins in one hand and tried to hold down the neck of one of the more restless horses with the other.

"The Nilfgaardians are not likable in many ways, but they do have a good eye for horses."

Zoltan glanced at the warhorses.

"You're quick to pick."

"My friend, this is called finding order in chaos, finding treasure next to corpses."

Speak the common language.

"I picked the best ones."

Dandelion patted one of the horses on the neck, and the warhorse immediately snorted, startling him so much that he took a half-step to the side.