Lord: I can see loyalty.

The moment Glenn finished speaking, the owner of that cold glint burst out from the shadows of the bushes!

The newcomer was a Haro barbarian warrior, short and stocky, with his face painted with chaotic patterns that resembled animal markings.

He held in his hand a large, beast leg bone with a sharpened tip, the tip still bearing dark red stains.

His movements were as swift as a wild beast pouncing on its prey, aimed straight for Glenn's throat, so fast that it created a whooshing sound.

"You're asking for death!" Glenn lowered his stance, neither dodging nor avoiding, and swung his greatsword from bottom to top!

"clang--!"

A deafeningly loud bang resounded, making it difficult for the surrounding militiamen to stand.

The greatsword cleaved into the side of the bone blade. The Harlow warrior clearly hadn't expected such a massive weapon to have such incredible speed. His arm jerked, and the bone blade fell to the ground.

Glenn gave him no chance to catch his breath. Using the force of the recoil, he spun half a circle, and the greatsword drew a powerful semicircle, bringing a strong wind, and slashed horizontally towards the opponent's waist and abdomen!

This sword strike was enough to cut the opponent in half at the waist.

However, the Harlow warrior's agility was beyond imagination; he staggered back half a step using the force of Glenn's first strike.

At the same time, his body bent backward with an almost illogical flexibility. The rough blade of the greatsword grazed the rattan armor on his abdomen, cutting a gash and picking up a few pieces of rattan, but it failed to cause a fatal wound.

He immediately sprang back like a spring, and the bone blade stabbed at Glenn again, aiming for the opening he had created by swinging his sword.

"Captain, watch out!"

A loud shout and a spear thrust out precisely from Glenn's side and rear, piercing the Harlow warrior's shoulder with a "thud"!

It was the young militiaman who had complained of being tired earlier. He looked flustered, but his hands were steady.

The Harlow warrior's movements became distorted after the pain, and Glenn seized the opportunity, pulling back his greatsword and slamming it forward with force, using the broad blade like a shield!

"Bang!" The Harlow warrior was sent flying backward and rolled into the grass.

But before they could catch their breath, more cold glints appeared in the forest, and figures painted with colorful patterns rushed out from all directions, their numbers far exceeding that of their small team!

What chilled the militiamen even more was that several of the Haro warriors were carrying blood-dripping heads—the heads of the missing patrol members!

One of them was Captain Hans's face, glaring with anger and covered in blood!

"Hans! You beasts!!"

Not far away, other militia teams had arrived. A militia captain with a short beard and a black eye patch over his left eye looked furious. Upon seeing his comrade's head, he roared and was about to lead his men out to fight to the death.

"One-Eyed! Calm down, stop!" Glenn's roar drowned out his words. "Don't forget the Earl's orders! Our mission is to hold this place, hold them off! Hold them off until the Earl's reinforcements arrive!"

Glenn's greatsword pointed at a rough stone blade bound together in the hand of the nearest Harlow warrior, then at another's bone spear: "They have no heavy armor, no powerful bows or crossbows. As long as we hold the line, they can't break through! Avenging Hans and the others isn't about rushing out to your deaths now!"

The one-eyed captain's chest heaved violently, his remaining intact eye bloodshot, but he gritted his teeth and finally nodded emphatically, roaring, "Listen to Captain Glenn! Shieldbearers forward, spearmen set up their lances, archers fire freely!"

The order was quickly relayed.

They quickly built a rough but sturdy defensive line by relying on the existing low wall at the village entrance and the temporary reinforced wooden fence.

The battle instantly intensified.

The Haro people surged in like a tide, emitting unintelligible roars and using their agility to try to climb over or destroy the wooden fence.

The militiamen's spears kept thrusting out from the gaps, and the bowstrings vibrated incessantly. Although their aim was poor, they still posed a threat at close range.

Glenn stood firmly at the forefront of the defensive line, and his greatsword displayed astonishing power at this moment.

The greatsword had no edge, but in the hands of a monstrous strength like Glenn, it became a killing machine.

He rarely used thorns, mostly sweeping, chopping, and slashing.

Each swing carries a heavy wind pressure, forcing Harlow warriors within range to either retreat or use their fragile weapons to block, often resulting in broken weapons and warriors being cut in half at the waist.

A Harlow warrior tried to climb over the wooden fence from the side, but Glenn didn't even look at him. He swung his sword backhand and sent the warrior flying through the air like a fly, crashing into a tree with a sickening cracking sound.

"The gap on the left!"

A militia captain, unusually tall and thin like a bamboo pole, shouted. He was skilled with a rapier, and his swordsmanship was cunning, specifically targeting the wrists, ankles, and other joints of the Harlow warriors.

Although not fatal, it could instantly incapacitate the enemy. He led several farmers from the village, each armed with pitchforks, to block a gap in the wooden fence that had been loosened by the impact.

The one-eyed captain was quite fierce. He didn't use a spear, but a heavy machete. He fought ruthlessly, trading blows for blows.

A Harlow warrior had just slashed his arm with a bone blade when he roared and cleaved half his head in two.

The battle became chaotic. Just as Glenn had predicted, the Haro tribe lacked heavy weapons and tactics to break through the enemy lines and could only rely on individual frenzy and sheer numbers to overwhelm them.

However, their attitude of not being afraid of minor injuries and even indifferent to the death of their comrades put enormous psychological pressure on the militiamen.

Moreover, occasionally one or two of them will be exceptionally strong or agile, requiring Glenn or several captains to work together to quickly deal with them.

"Hold on! Don't panic! Cooperate with each other!"

Glenn's voice echoed across the battlefield. His leather armor had several new scratches, and his arms were cut, but his movements showed no signs of slowing down.

Each swing of the greatsword could force back at least four or five enemies.

Time passed amidst the bloody battle to defend the village, and the open space in front of the village was filled with a strong smell of blood and sweat.

The militia began to suffer casualties, and the defensive line was repeatedly brought to the brink of collapse by attacks, only to be pushed back several times by Glenn and his captains.

Dozens of the Haro people's corpses were piled up at the village entrance, but they seemed endless. Although their attacks were not as fierce as at the beginning, they continued relentlessly, like wild beasts exhausting their prey's strength.

Glenn was panting heavily, his greatsword stuck in the ground for support. His hands were already cracked from the impact, and blood stained the bandages around his hands.

He looked up and glanced in the direction of Bordeaux; the horns had already sounded and the beacon fires had been lit.

He gripped the hilt of his sword, pulled the greatsword up from the ground again, and nodded to the one-eyed captain and the tall, thin captain, who were equally exhausted but whose eyes remained resolute.

"Prepare for the next wave; we can hold on." His voice was a little hoarse, but still calm.

The Haro tribe in the forest did not stop their attack. After a brief respite, another strange roar rang out...