Lord: I can see loyalty.

Chapter 252 The Pursuit! Golden Saddle Horse Renault

North of Jinma City, the road to defeat.

Renault, the eldest son of the Golden Saddle Horse family, reined in his warhorse and glanced back at the winding road leading north behind him.

His armor was covered in dust and bloodstains, making it impossible to tell whether it was his own or someone else's.

The warhorse beneath him was panting heavily, foam at the mouth. It had been running for two whole hours, and if it continued, the horse would be ruined.

The ranks behind him were sparse, and the once magnificent golden banners were now few and far between. The knights were dejected, their armor askew, some had lost their helmets, and some had even lost their weapons.

The militiamen were even worse off, tumbling and crawling, helping each other up, their cries, groans, and curses all mixed together.

"Stop, take a break." Renault raised his hand, his voice hoarse.

The procession slowly came to a stop. Some people collapsed to the ground, some lay on their horses panting heavily, and others threw down their weapons, burying their heads in their hands and weeping softly.

The adjutant rode closer, his face etched with exhaustion and fear, his lips cracked, and his voice trembling: "My lord, the pursuers from the south are still behind us, we must hurry—"

"I said stop!" Renault interrupted him sharply, his gaze sweeping over the remaining soldiers. "Count the number of men and see how many are left."

The adjutant opened his mouth, but ultimately kept it shut, not daring to disobey orders.

He dismounted and led several officers to take inventory.

Renault dismounted, tossed the reins to his guards, sat down on a rock by the roadside, removed his helmet, and tossed it aside.

His hair was a mess, his forehead was covered in sweat, and there was a cut on his face from a piece of gravel; the blood had dried and formed a dark red scab.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled, remembering his father's words.

"Hold them back until the Black Serpents send out their troops, until the Griffin Legion marches south."

He delayed, following his father's orders, and did not launch an attack, but instead set up camp for a standoff.

But the people of the Southern Territory probably guessed their purpose, so they chose to take the initiative and use sheer numbers and explosive magical artifacts to tear through their defenses.

Now, of their 10,000-strong army, only remnants have made it here.

"Sir," the adjutant returned, his voice barely audible, "the remaining soldiers have been counted."

"explain."

The adjutant swallowed hard.

"The Golden Saddle Knights have 4,200 men left, most of whom are still capable of fighting. But the militia—there are less than 2,000 militiamen left, and most of them are wounded. At most, only 1,000 can continue fighting."

Renault frowned, his fingers clenched, and his knuckles began to tremble uncontrollably.

Of the 10,000 troops, the Golden Saddle Knights lost less than 1,000, but the militia lost more than 3,000, nearly half.

Those militiamen were elite militiamen he had selected from his territory. Although they were not as strong as the knights, they were numerous and were the main force in maintaining the front line, cleaning up the battlefield, and escorting the cargo.

Now more than three thousand people are dead, and most of the survivors are wounded or maimed, with almost no fighting ability left.

"Those magical artifacts—damn it!" Renault gritted his teeth, forcing out the words. "Where did those barbarians in the Southern Territory get their hands on those things? They're like black powder bombs, exploding in huge swathes. Our militia have never seen anything like them before. They scattered as soon as they exploded, ran away, panicked, and then it was all over!"

The adjutant lowered his head, not daring to reply.

Renault stood up, walked to the roadside, and looked at the dusty road to the south.

His eyes were filled with resentment and anger. He didn't want to escape; he wanted to fight. He wanted to lead the surviving knights back and slaughter the people of the Southern Territory.

But he can't.

He was the eldest son of the Jin Anma family and the commander of this army. He couldn't afford to squander his family's last remaining wealth here because of a moment of impulsiveness.

He must return to Jinma City alive, live to see his father, and live to organize the next defense.

"My lord!" A scout galloped in from the south, his voice filled with panic, "The pursuers from the south are catching up!"

Renault's pupils contracted sharply. "How many people?"

"Approximately five thousand, a mixed force of cavalry and militia, moving very fast, less than ten miles away! That means—"

—The main force can't escape anymore!

Renault's expression changed again.

Five thousand men, roughly the same number as his Golden Saddle Knights, but his troops were already a defeated army, demoralized, exhausted, incomplete in armor, and out of order.

The five thousand troops from the southern border had just won a battle, and their morale was high, their strength was abundant, and their equipment was excellent.

How should we fight this battle?

"Sir, let's retreat quickly!" The adjutant's voice trembled. "As long as we retreat back to Jinma City, there are city walls and defenses there—"

"Withdraw?" Renault looked at him, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "How do we withdraw? Until when? Until the Southern Border's army is at our gates? Withdraw until we're waiting to die at the Golden Saddle Ma family's place?!"

He understood that at this distance, even if they ran at full speed, only he and his personal guards could run; the main force would likely be left behind.

He turned around, his gaze sweeping over the knights and militiamen slumped on the ground.

Some people looked up at him, their eyes filled with fear and anticipation, while others lowered their heads, not daring to meet his gaze.

They didn't want to fight anymore; they just wanted to get back alive.

Renault closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then slowly exhaled.

Then, he drew the long sword from his waist. The blade gleamed coldly in the twilight, and the gold on the hilt shimmered in the darkness.

He mounted his horse and raised his longsword high.

"Knights of the Golden Saddle!" His voice echoed across the wilderness. "We have no way out! The Southern Army is right behind us; they won't let us return alive! Golden Horse City is still far to the north, and our families are still there! We cannot retreat; if we do, the Golden Saddle family will be attacked!"

The knights looked up at the golden figure; some had flames burning in their eyes, while others gripped their swords tightly.

"The enemy numbers only five thousand, and they're not even elite. Those who want to fight, follow me!" Reynolds turned his horse to face south. "Those who don't want to fight, leave your weapons behind and get out!"

After these words were spoken, everyone looked at each other in bewilderment, but no one left.

The knights mounted their horses, gripped their swords, and formed ranks. The militiamen, under the officers' orders, stood up, raised their spears, and formed squares.

Although their formation was loose, their armor was torn, and their faces were filled with fear, they did not flee.

Renault's gaze swept over those faces, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes.

He knew that many of these people would die in the battle to come, but he had no choice.

"Knights of the Golden Saddle, prepare for battle!"