Chapter Fifty-Nine: Reorganizing the Army

Half a month later, on a broad training ground, Ardis watched the soldiers before him, nodding slightly in approval.

Above them, a faint trace of martial aura was gradually condensing in the air. Though it was still weak, the beginnings of its form could already be discerned. Within this aura, a hint of gold mingled with pale azure, flickering and emerging in subtle waves.

Ardis’s gaze fell upon one figure in the ranks—a frail young man, barely of age, his slender build and sickly appearance betraying an arduous upbringing. He looked as if a breeze might topple him, yet his inherent talent told a different tale. His soul radiated a pale azure hue, the strongest among Ardis's men aside from the priests, and above his head, a golden thread of fate slowly whirled, marking him as one blessed by fortune, not merely one with talent but without the luck to propel it.

Such a man, even without deliberate promotion, would rise with the tides of change, driven by fortune; at the very least, he would achieve the rank of Earth Knight. Now that he served under Ardis, his destiny would certainly not remain so modest. With Ardis’s careful cultivation, he might reach the heights of a Sky Knight or even greater.

He was, in truth, an ordinary farmer who enlisted during the conscription. Poor and frail from childhood, he nearly failed to qualify, but Ardis happened to be present and ensured he was not overlooked.

Thanks to his ability to perceive fate, Ardis held a natural advantage in seeking talent. Though innate talent did not guarantee ability, it surpassed those without, and fate’s barriers were fewer for such men.

This group of soldiers had been meticulously selected by Ardis from nearly ten thousand volunteers. Though they seemed unremarkable, their potential was incomparable. Among them, no fewer than a dozen bore golden souls, prompting Ardis to marvel at the abundance of talent.

This phenomenon reflected the reality: in the southern city-states, the world’s consciousness valued them far more than the surrounding tribes, resulting in a quantity of talent unmatched elsewhere.

Ardis quietly sensed the star above his head. Since he had conquered and destroyed the city-state’s ancestral god, the star had grown distinctly brighter. The increase was partly due to a greater number of followers, but more so because the southern city-states commanded a much larger share of the world’s destiny than the barbarian tribes, thus the change was all the more pronounced.

As he pondered this, a faint sound of footsteps came from outside.

Turning, he saw Nadil approaching in armor.

“Your Majesty, our scouts have reported that after the royal family’s plea for help was sent, most city-states have begun to move. At this moment, a force of five thousand soldiers is advancing toward us from the west.”

Nadil’s expression was grave, his voice weighted with concern. Above his head, his soul had transformed into shimmering gold, swaying gently.

Ardis sighed softly.

“Cecilia City is surrounded on all sides. To the north lies the Duchy of Brook; their king is on his deathbed, and the princes are vying for power, so they are unlikely to send troops.

“To the east is mountainous terrain; the distant city-states are separated from us by vast distances and treacherous roads, so it is improbable they will intervene.”

“Only the south and west pose threats. The southern city-states are known for their greed; seeing turmoil here, they will likely send troops to plunder. As for the Duchy of Barlow in the west, it has a long-standing alliance with the Duchy of Cecilia—Barlow’s queen is said to be a princess of Cecilia’s royal family—so their intervention is no surprise.”

He looked at the orderly ranks before him and addressed Nadil, who stood respectfully at his side. “Nadil, what do you think of these men?”

Nadil was slightly taken aback, then studied the neat military formation. “They seem competent, but their combat experience may be lacking, far inferior to our previous troops.”

“Indeed,” Ardis nodded. “By expanding the corps of five hundred seasoned veterans to five thousand, and after more than half a month of integration, their fighting power cannot be expected to soar instantly. Yet, under the veterans’ leadership, they will suffice for now.”

“Furthermore, with over a hundred priests and Carter’s two thousand clansmen, our strength is not inferior to that of the enemy.”

He paused, then continued, “Among the five thousand from Barlow, no more than five hundred are trained knights, and most are mere knight attendants—less capable even than a white-robed priest. So, in truth, they will not pose a great challenge.”

“The real difficulty comes from the south.”

“The south?” Nadil looked at Ardis, puzzled.

Ardis nodded. “Unlike the sparse northern city-states, the south is teeming with them, their relations tangled and interconnected. Upon learning of our unrest, they are likely to send armies to plunder. Whether we win or lose, the villages outside Cecilia will surely become wastelands.”

“Thus, the best outcome of this battle is to swiftly defeat the western army, making the southern city-states recognize our strength and reconsider the losses, withdrawing of their own accord.”

Hearing this, Nadil seemed to understand.

Seeing his realization, Ardis smiled gently. “How goes the task I assigned you?”

Nadil’s enthusiasm showed. “It is nearly complete. We have captured the nobles and, with the priests’ assistance in interrogation, have compiled over ten sets of martial training methods. The highest among them is the royal family’s, capable of training one to the rank of Sky Knight.”

He hesitated, uncertainty clouding his face. “But, my lord, do you truly intend to distribute these methods to the soldiers?”

Ardis laughed and shook his head. “Not yet. It will wait until these men are properly seasoned. No need to rush.”

Martial training requires a robust physique—not something achieved overnight.

“Unlike the city-state kings, we are unlikely to attract a large number of nobles to our cause, so we must cultivate our own.”

Ardis stood at the fore, smiling beneath the sunlight, strikingly handsome.

Nadil parted his lips slightly, gazing at the soldiers before him, his emotions a complex tangle.

The following day, upon receiving news of the enemy’s movement, Ardis set out with three thousand regular troops, two thousand barbarians, and over a hundred priests, leaving two thousand to guard Cecilia City.

Before leaving, Ardis compelled the discontented nobles to accompany him. This was tradition: when the king marched, his vassals were obliged to follow. Here, it was also to prevent these nobles from stirring trouble in his absence, so he took them all, ensuring stability at home.

Their grievances, even their rage, mattered little to Ardis.

“My ways are such that, no matter how I placate them, they will not serve me wholeheartedly. So it is of no consequence,” Ardis said, eyeing the noble knights gathered near the priests, his lips curled in a cold smile.

This was a fundamental opposition. Under his orders, the nobles had lost autonomy over their lands and many vassals; they had been forced to surrender their family martial arts, and without compensation, could not be appeased.

Since their loyalty could never be secured, treating them as cannon fodder at the crucial moment caused Ardis no qualms.

“Indeed, after conquering new lands, their territories can be exchanged for desolate borderlands, erasing their original influence at one stroke.”

This was a ruthless strategy. These nobles had dwelled in their domains for centuries, accruing connections and influence. Relocating them would sever that legacy, forcing them to start anew in unfamiliar places, where regaining such sway would be impossible. If Ardis wished, he could send the most troublesome among them to dangerous regions, slowly extinguishing their families.

The army now marched into the wilds.

In this world, the wilderness was desolate, plagued by magical beasts and ghosts. Much land remained in its primordial state, uncultivated by human hands.

Though this preserved the original environment, it made travel arduous, and along the way, traces of monsters and wild men were frequent.

Ardis frowned, looking into the distance.

Through his supernatural senses, he perceived a ripple of crimson energy far away, moving steadily toward Cecilia.