In order to become a Heroic Spirit, I had no choice but to cause trouble in history.

"So, who are the few who didn't leave or die?" Anno asked with difficulty.

He didn't understand whether leaving Camelot to search for and train Arthur was right or wrong, but he knew in his heart that it was all preordained, part of King Uther's plan, and that he had willingly fallen for it, nothing more.

These young and valiant knights did not die on the battlefield, but because of the infiltration of nobles and their own negligence, they died in the prosperous city of Camelot.

“I’m one, and there’s also Bindo Deleon and Taumash Lyle… there are eleven in total, and these are the last ones left…”

More than seventy men left, and more than twenty died. Of the more than one hundred members of the Knights of the British Chalk, only twelve remained, including their leader, Anno.

Anno opened his mouth, looking at Lanmarok in front of him, and recalled the royal court that no one dared to touch when he first returned to Camelot.

"Thank you for your hard work, Lanmarok..."

“Letting them die in Camelot would be the biggest stain on my life, and I bear an inescapable responsibility for their deaths.”

"Commander Anno..." Lanmarok didn't quite understand what Anno wanted to say.

"I will bear this sin with equanimity." Anno will not regret it, but he will feel sad for these young people and also feel guilty.

“But I will take back the glory they lost in Camelot.” Anno didn’t shed a tear; he was simply bolstering his spirits. Britain had no time for sorrow right now.

"Deputy Commander Lanmarok!"

"Ah, yes!"

"Gather all the remaining members of the Knights of the British Chalk and prepare for battle!" Anno raised his head, his black hair obscuring his eyes.

“The king’s anger needs to be vented, and so does mine.” Anno’s teeth clenched so tightly they clicked. “Rotten Camelot, when I return in triumph, I will personally deal with him.”

Lanmarok, forcing himself to stay alert, replied, "Yes, sir!"

Ha, the dirty tricks of adults...

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Chapter 42: The Round Table Gradually Appears

If you want to go to war, having a good lord is essential, and having knights to follow you is also necessary.

Anno's most pressing problem right now is that he has no troops under his command.

The original Knights of the British Chalk were elite troops; although they numbered only a hundred or so, their fighting strength was ridiculously high.

Now that the individual knights of the British Chalk Knights, who are all highly skilled, are gone, and with only a few days left, Anno has no way to recruit soldiers in the surrounding villages. He can only try to find a way out from Camelot.

Palace eunuchs, city wall guards, noble private soldiers—most of the combat-capable men in Camelot were conscripted by Anno, barely forming a small force of five hundred.

"What? The strength of these people." Kai felt a little bored. Most of these hastily conscripted knights were of mediocre strength. In the last-minute, crammed individual combat training, Kai only needed two sword strikes to knock one knight to the ground.

“Fighting these knights will be of no benefit, Lord Kay. Why don’t we give it a try?” Lancelot also felt bored; these knights were just there to make up the numbers.

"Heh heh, looks like you're pretty confident, Lancelot." Kai's eyes narrowed, his longsword twirling in his hand, and a fighting spirit emanated from him.

“Now that we are both subjects of the King, Lord Kai, you should call me Lord Lancelot,” Lancelot said solemnly. “Given that you are older than me, therefore… my apologies!”

The two swords clashed rapidly, sparks flying.

Anno watched all this from a short distance away. The small team of several hundred people gathered in a training ground for simple training and distributed equipment.

There are a few people in this group that Anno cares about.

One was a young knight with a stiff expression, another was a one-armed palace attendant, and the third was the guard we saw at the city gate that day.

The sword fighting skills of these three individuals far surpassed those of their peers, which drew Anno's attention.

The stiff-faced boy was named Agravivan, the one-armed courtier was named Bedivere, and the gatekeeper was named Bose.

“Lord Lanmarok,” Anno called to Lanmarok, who was distributing equipment, “have Bindu and the others test their strongest sword fighting skills against these three.”

“These three people… I understand.” Lanmarok nodded, indicating that he understood.

Agraven was organizing the equipment he had just been given: a broadsword and a full set of armor, nothing more.

Horses and lances are still being urgently mobilized and cannot be distributed at the moment.

Just then, a knight appeared in front of him.

“Agraven, is that right?” The newcomer’s expression was calm. Unlike the many knights gathered together, this knight had his own silver cloak.

People from the former Knights of the Chalk of Britain.

Agravín nodded expressionlessly: "It's me."

"Lord Anno, the lord of the Knights, has ordered me to be your training subject. Let me briefly introduce myself; my name is Bindu." The knight was not arrogant; he simply spoke calmly.

Agguiwen paused for a moment, then said, "I understand."

After saying that, he took out a knight's longsword from his equipment and stood opposite Bindu.

Along with him, Bedivere the one-armed knight and Bose also underwent the trial.

The sword battle ended, and although none of the three were able to gain an advantage over the original Knights of the Chalk Knights, it had already given Anno a great surprise.

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Chapter 43: Bloodstained Evil Breaker - The White Chalk Sword

While the young King Arthur's decision was wise, it was also radical.

Young people are bound to be a bit arrogant.

Anno was not surprised at all, after all, King Arthur was practically his student, although their relationship had now become that of ruler and subject.

Although war will result in deaths, consume more supplies, and impose a heavier tax burden on the people, it is Britain's best option at present. King Arthur is gambling, gambling with Britain's future, betting that Anno can lead a knightly order of five hundred men and less than three thousand infantrymen to subdue and kill the surrounding small countries and the rebels who have declared themselves kings.

Anno was well aware of the weight of the burden on her shoulders.

Of the 500-strong knightly order, only a dozen or so were truly skilled in martial arts; the rest were merely slightly better than infantrymen and knew a little about horsemanship.

After the horses were distributed, Anno organized a hastily assembled knightly order to conduct several charge drills before setting off with the army of 3,500 men.

He understood that in a direct battle, this knightly order, apart from the first wave of charge, might not be as effective as ordinary infantry.

The time was too short, the equipment was mediocre, and the teamwork and coordination were a complete mess.

In critical moments, the individual combat prowess of a few knights in the team may be more important than the charge itself.

Anno, riding his horse, looked at the small, somewhat disorganized and disorganized group behind him and sighed.

Perhaps at the crucial moment, I will have to use what I have been hiding.

He rubbed his thumb against the chalk sword hanging at his waist, his eyes flashing, and smiled slightly.

After two or three days of marching, Anno first arrived in an unknown country.

Although the British army was disorganized, it was still a small country with only four or five cities and no one even knew its name. In a war, it would still crush its opponents.

The knights of this country stood on the five-meter-high city wall, intending to rebuke the people of Anor below.

Anno didn't even give the knight a chance to speak, his eyes cold: "Don't make threats. I have no interest in your country. There's only one question: are you loyal to Britain, and will you open the city gates?"

The knight on the city wall was speechless for a moment, but still managed a few token retorts.

Anno's expression was indifferent as he silently drew the White Chalk Sword.

Anno dismounted and spoke: "So, you don't want to submit to Britain... War is none of my business. What I need to do is... clear the way for the Pendragon bloodline, nothing more."

The knights and three thousand infantrymen behind him remained silent.

The holy sword, named Chalk, was held in front of him, reflecting the sunlight.

"This is the sword that cuts off all evil, even if it means being stained with the blood of the enemy."

"The Silver End of the Non-human Beings and Their Enemies!"

The holy sword in his hand, Chalk, emitted a dazzling light, and both the people on the city wall and the British army behind Anno felt a strong sense of oppression.

A strong wind billowed Anno's silver cloak, and her long black hair danced like a mad snake.

The glint in his eyes flashed and disappeared in an instant.

"This is—the Sword of Chalk!"

He tilted the longsword slightly, then swung it out in a straightforward manner straight ahead.

A dazzling beam of light instantly erupted from the Chalk Sword.

The sky seemed to fall into eternal darkness in an instant, with only the light beams from the White Chalk Sword shining between heaven and earth, devouring the city walls and everything on them.

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Chapter 44: Camelot Inside and Out

The enemy soldiers on the city wall were naturally reduced to ashes, while the soldiers behind him remained silent in fear.

People tend to fear more than admire the unknown.

Everyone's expression was filled with surprise and fear.

Agrave, now clad in the Knights' standard plate armor, looked at Anno with a hint of fear in his eyes.

The one-armed knight Bedivere and the former city wall guard, Bose, had burning eyes.

Only two people didn't show any surprise: Lancelot and Kay.

They were injured during the initial battle against the Fantasy Species, and Lancelot nearly lost his life. Enraged, Anno somehow unleashed this attack, almost blasting the Fantasy Species to pieces.

With trembling hands, Anno tried two or three times before finally sheathing the Chalk Sword. He took a deep breath and said, "Attack."

He then mounted his horse and watched as the knights and infantry filed in through the gap created by the light cannons.

Only two or three people remained with him.

Lancelot rode up to Anno's side, somewhat nervously asking, "Father, your hand...?"

Anno waved his hand, signaling Lancelot to speak separately.

Lancelot had no choice but to nod and charge into the city with the rest of the knights.

Anno sighed. He really couldn't think of a way to get these mere 3,500 men to break through a city with such a shortage of equipment, so he had no choice but to resort to this desperate measure.

But power comes at a price.

His hand, especially his left arm, is probably fractured again.

The last time he faced the fantasy species, his left arm was severed after using this move, and it was Merlin who helped reattach it.

With a long sigh, Anuo's hands trembled slightly as he endured the pain of his fractured bones and rode his horse into the city.