Chapter 238: He’s Here

“Isolde!” Geoffrey’s voice was barely audible, his strength failing. He reached for Isolde’s face; instinctively, she flinched, shaking her head. He sighed, his gaze filled with pain and helplessness.

“Geoffrey, don’t speak!” Harlan, having just slain an enemy, rushed to his side. “You’ll be fine.” His lips trembled, mirroring Isolde’s, but he gritted his teeth, fighting with all his might.

Isolde fell to the ground, watching his blood flow. She fought to suppress her own emotions, unwilling to draw her sword. She felt his blood seep between her fingers.

“Bury me with your mother…” Geoffrey suddenly pushed himself up, forcing out the words with a final surge of strength. His eyes were wide, his voice loud. As he finished speaking, his head dropped, yet his eyes remained fixed on Isolde, the light in them slowly fading, but a trace of hope lingering. He was waiting for her to call him father, just once.

Harlan turned, his heart breaking. He shouted at Isolde, “Call him! Keep him here! No matter his sins, he is still your father!”

Isolde shuddered, her mind blank. She looked at Harlan, and the words escaped her lips, “No, I don’t want you to die…”

At that moment, Geoffrey’s chest heaved. His eyes remained on Isolde, and a warm, contented smile slowly spread across his lips.

“No, no, no…” Isolde released his chest, no longer pressing on the wound. She frantically poured the remaining medicine onto his injury, heedless of its effectiveness.

“Three key points, Isolde!” Doug shouted, striking down an enemy. “Your master taught you the vital pressure points to save a life!”

The fog in Isolde’s mind cleared. She snapped back to reality and quickly pressed on three acupoints: Vitality Center, Sacred Navel, and Liver Gate—pressure points that could stem bleeding and preserve life if applied swiftly. She had forgotten her master’s teachings.

She grabbed her whip and charged, a fury unleashed.

On the high platform, Ashley smiled, her thoughts calculating. A once-powerful bow had lost its strength; the struggle was meaningless. Isolde, you’re doomed to die!

Footsteps approached, accompanied by a gentle voice. “I’m here, Your Highness!”

Ashley turned, leaning against the railing, a smile curving her lips as she gazed at the elegant woman. “Ms. Charlie, you’re here too!” The consort smiled warmly, devoid of royal arrogance. She knew that…

Her features were more delicate than Ashley’s, with soft, graceful eyes. She wore a red silk gown, intricately embroidered. Despite bearing three sons, she maintained a graceful, slim figure. Her complexion was fair and radiant, exuding contentment. Kamari had many concubines, yet her position remained secure. There was no need for struggle or scheming; she simply lived in quiet peace, cultivating her own beauty.

She noticed a dagger on the ground, picked it up, and placed it on the stone table. Assuming Kamari had lost his temper, she softly reassured him, “Rest assured, Your Highness, the palace guards will surely defeat the bandits.” She believed those who infiltrated the estate were mere thieves, as the guards had reported. She was a happy woman who didn’t overthink; she trusted others’ words.

Kamari looked at her, a sharp pain twisting in his heart. After all, they had been husband and wife for many years.

“Serene, sit down,” Kamari said, handing the dagger to Ashley. “Ashley, hold the dagger.” He offered the hilt to Ashley, the sharp point directed at his consort, Serene.

Serene sat gracefully, her gaze lowered. “Your Highness, why have you summoned me?”

“They are not bandits,” Kamari said, looking at her. “They are the Royal Court’s troops.”

Serene swiftly raised her head, a hint of shock in her eyes. “The Royal Court’s troops?”

Kamari’s voice was steady. “I am meant for greatness, but the Royal Court attacked first. Do you remember what I told you? I said I would never live under someone else. And you promised that no matter what I chose, you would stand by my side. Isn’t that true?”

Serene’s lips trembled, but she composed herself. “Yes, I did say that.”

Kamari looked at her; hesitation flickered in his heart. But the image of the golden throne burned in his mind, hardening his resolve. His voice grew cold. “I need you to step aside for Ashley. She will help me achieve my goal.”

Serene’s lips quivered. “I will leave of my own accord, withdraw to the countryside, and never disturb you and Ms. Charlie for the rest of my life.” Pleading shone in her gaze, but Kamari’s eyes showed only ruthless indifference.

A sharp pain pierced her waist; a dagger from behind. A hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her gasp. Ashley whispered coldly, “Only with your death will my position remain secure.” Serene had sons; Ashley wouldn’t risk a future retaliation.

Serene collapsed, blood seeping from her lower back. Kamari averted his gaze, his voice emotionless. “Take her away.”

Several attendants carried Serene away. Though cast aside by King Kamari, she had always treated servants and soldiers with kindness. No one disrespected her.

Ashley wiped her dagger, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Looking down at the battlefield, she saw the Royal Court’s North Camp Army struggling. How stubborn! she sneered.

Isolde, covered in wounds, fought desperately. If they lost, her head would roll. Fighting like a woman possessed, she cut down multiple enemies, gaining a temporary advantage, but the disparity in strength was undeniable.

There was no despair in Isolde’s eyes. She remembered Sadie’s words: help was on the way. She trusted Sadie; this assault wasn't reckless. All she needed to do was hold on. She had fought many battles where endurance brought victory. Every triumph was bought with blood.

Her resilience ignited the same spirit in the North Camp Army. Even near defeat, no soldier backed down. This strong will created an unbeatable army. They needed a turning point, and it arrived soon. Isolde’s relentless endurance had not been in vain.

The sound of galloping hooves filled the air as a white horse charged onto the battlefield. The rider seemed to descend from the heavens, clad in silver armor, his determined face radiating a murderous aura. With a long spear, he struck down enemies, his movements like a war god. Wherever his horse galloped, enemies fell; wherever his spear struck, blood splattered.

Isolde’s heart burned; her eyes blazed with fiery red light. She leaped, swinging her whip fiercely at the martial arts expert in blue. As long as he was here, no battle would be lost.