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73.46% Nanotechnology: Reborn As A Prince Of Wales / Chapter 36: Chapter 35 Exercise

Chương 36: Chapter 35 Exercise

Peter lay on the ground, struggling to catch his breath. Ethan's gaze remained fixed on him, unblinking. Peter's words sputtered out, his voice pleading, desperate to keep his life intact. "Fine... I'll tell you!" His hands trembled as he gestured weakly towards Ethan. "I met him on the way here... we shared the road. He talked about getting revenge on you..."

Ethan's lips curled into a smirk. He looked to Pwyll, whose confusion mirrored the storm brewing inside him. "He really knew Talog!?" Pwyll tried to piece together a puzzle that didn't quite fit.

Ethan's eyes flicked back to Peter, scanning the young man's face. His mind worked quickly, "Your name is not Arawn, and you're no monk either, are you? You're a noble?"

Ethan had seen Peter the moment he stepped into the manor. Disguised as a traveling monk, the man carried himself with an air of practiced humility—his head bowed, his hands clasped, his robes worn but not convincingly frayed. Ethan's heightened senses had already begun dismantling the illusion.

He had noticed the way Peter walked, steps too deliberate, too careful. A true monk, weary from the road, would have trudged with the weight of long travels, but Peter moved with a calculated ease.

Ethan hadn't let his suspicions show. He had leaned back in his seat, his fingers idly tapping the edge of the table as Pwyll questioned the man. Yet all the while, Ethan's sharp gaze had remained locked on Peter, cataloging every minute detail of his posture, tone, and movements. The man's smooth hands had caught his eye—too soft, too clean.

Peter's face went pale. The weight of his secrets pressed down on him, visible in the way his breath caught, the panic rising in his chest. "I… I'm Peter ap Cadogan!" he stammered, his voice barely a whisper.

Ethan leaned in, his expression darkening. "Cadogan Of Corwen? It's a shame your little schemes did not succeed, perhaps if it was somewhere else."

Pwyll's voice rang out, raw and full of contempt. "It's always funny how you know someone is telling the truth, so you're the son of that filthy bastard."

Peter's gaze dropped, shame creeping into his features. Ethan knelt down to his level, his eyes burning with cold fury. "Now you're going to tell everything and why you conspire against me, Peter," he said, his voice low and threatening.

---

Peter was hurled into the cell, landing hard on the damp stone floor. The iron door clanged shut behind him, echoing through the dim, musty space. Shadows stirred as the prisoners turned their heads, their eyes glinting like predators sizing up fresh prey. Peter dragged himself into a corner, his breath shallow, his fists clenched tightly against his sides

Deep beneath the manor, Ethan worked tirelessly in his underground workshop. Light illuminated the room, casting eerie shadows over his meticulous work. He carefully tightened the last bolt on an air rifle, the 93rd in the arsenal he had painstakingly assembled.

"At this rate, I'll exhaust the small town's resources entirely." He paused, rubbing his temples. "We need more material... but the trade routes are infested with bandits and the English choke every line of supply." His lips curled into a grim smile. "They would go tcan disrupt us, we'll cut their veins too—on a much larger scale."

Ethan crossed the room to where potted plants stood in a neat row, their leaves trembling faintly as if sensing his presence. He reached out and placed his hand on the first plant. Particles of light swirled from his palm into the stem. The plant withered, leaving a single leaf trembling. On the second, the stem turned black, but the leaves held out a moment longer. The third shriveled instantly, collapsing into dust. Ethan's eyes widened, a sinister elation spreading across his face.

"Roger! your creation is magnificent! The fungi is deadly to this extent...." he said.

---

The camp was alive with activity, the sound of boots on dirt, the clatter of weapons being sharpened, the low murmur of men preparing for battle. Tarwyn approached Ethan., his expression serious. "We have 93 Dragons Breathers, lord," he said, voice grim. "But no more."

Ethan shook his head, "And you won't be getting any more," he muttered under his breath, though there was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

Callwen stepped forward, kneeling before him. "My liege," he said, his voice reverent. The men behind him muttered under their breath "Kiss his cock while you're at it," laughing quietly at the over-the-top display. "Ah Callwen, how is life treating you around here?" Ethan asked.

"I can't complain, my liege," Callwen replied, a wry smile creeping onto his face. "But I sure do miss the manor food." Ethan chuckled in return.

"Callwen's men will hold the high ground and press from here while my men will flank them." He straightened, looking at Ethan. "What do you think?"

Ethan glanced at the map, "I think you underestimate our weapons," he said simply. His voice carried a quiet confidence that made the others shift uneasily. "We'll face them head-on in the open plains, this will be a...let's call it an exercise. "

Tarwyn raised an incredulous brow. "You're calling this battle... an exercise?"

Ethan smiled faintly, his expression unreadable. "Precisely."

Outside the tent Ethan gestured to the men around him, silencing the murmurs.

"Men Of Bala!" he commanded, his voice booming across the camp, and instantly, all eyes were on him.

"Lord Cadogan of Corwen has betrayed the crown of Cymru. He's allied with the English and sent his forces against us," Ethan's voice turned colder, more cutting. "They want my head..." He pointed with deadly precision to the ridge to the east, his voice low but sharp. "There, two hundred men lie in wait, thinking they are safe. But we will see to it that they die by our hands!"

The men roared, raising their fists. They were ready—no hesitation in their eyes. Fire burned hot in their hearts, and they were eager to follow their lord into the fray.


Chương 37: Chapter 36 Slaughter

Ethan rode atop his white horse, his men marching behind him in crude lines. The people of Bala lined the streets, their faces a mix of confusion and fear. Mothers pulled their children close, whispers rippling through the crowd. "Are we being attacked?" one man asked. Others pointed to the strange weapons in the hands of Ethan's men. The fear of the unknown gripped them.

East of Bala, beyond the sparse plains, nestled a valley where 200 men from Corwen camped. Supplies were dwindling, and tension brewed among the soldiers.

Llyn stood near the campfire, his sword propped against the ground. "Where is Lord Peter's damn signal?" he growled, his frustration mounting.

Talog, fidgeting nearby, "Maybe he fell off his horse. Or worse, he's been caught." His voice betrayed his nerves. "We're wasting time, Llyn. We'll starve here..."

Llyn glared at him. "You're the reason why we're here cunt, why don't you lead the men and storm the gates of Bala."

Before Talog could argue, the thunder of hooves broke the tension. Two scouts arrived, their faces pale, their horses lathered with sweat.

"Enemies!" one of them gasped, sliding off his mount.

"How many?" Llyn demanded, his hand already on his sword.

"A hundred. They're marching straight for us!"

Llyn's men stirred uneasily, muttering among themselves. Talog's face turned ashen. "This doesn't make sense," he stammered. "They know our position, and they're coming straight for us? Why not ambush us?"

"Ready the men!" Llyn barked. "We'll meet them head-on."

Talog hesitated, his fear evident.

"What's wrong?" Llyn sneered. "I thought they were just farmers."

"Y-yeah," Talog said weakly, forcing a grin.

---

Ethan halted his army on the plains, the sun casting a golden glow over the landscape. His men stood tense, gripping their weapons. Most had never fought before, their hands trembling as they gripped the strange metal devices Ethan had given them.

Oswald, a young recruit, swallowed hard. "I think I pissed myself," he muttered.

Callwen clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. "Don't worry. No one will notice once the blood starts flying."

Ahead, the enemy emerged, a line of 200 men cresting the valley's edge. Ethan's men stiffened, their breaths quickening.

Llyn squinted from atop his horse, his men forming up behind him. "So that's the bastard lord," he muttered. "I expected him to be a giant." His men chuckled nervously.

The Corwen men continued to march, their steps deliberate and heavy.

"Archers!" Llyn shouted, his voice carrying over the field.

As Corwen's archers stepped forward, Ethan raised his hand. "Sharpshooters, to the front!" he barked. His men shuffled into position, raising their weapons.

Llyn frowned. "What in God's name are th—?"

"Fire!" Ethan commanded.

The sound was deafening. Thunder cracked across the plains, and the archers crumpled like wheat before a scythe. Blood sprayed the ground as the bullets tore through chainmail and flesh.

Llyn fell from his horse, clutching his ear where a bullet had grazed him. "Devilish weapons!" he cried, his voice trembling.

Talog dropped to his knees, his face pale. "We're going to die!" he whimpered, crawling backward in terror.

The firing stopped. Smoke rose from the barrels of the weapons as the silence pressed down like a weight.

Tarwyn, standing among Ethan's men, stared at the carnage. "This isn't a battle," he muttered, his voice hollow, "It's a slaughter."

Ethan's voice cut through the silence. "Reform! Second line, ready positions!" His men moved quickly, spreading out in a long row.

Llyn, blood dripping from his ear, forced himself to stand. "Their weapons are spent! They've nothing left!" He turned to his men, rallying those that were left while some fled. "For Corwen!"

The remaining soldiers charged, their battle cries echoing across the plains.

Ethan stood firm, his gaze cold. "Hold fire," he commanded, his men tensing as the enemy drew closer.

"Hold," he repeated, his voice steady.

The Corwen men were nearly upon them, their screams filling the air.

"Fire!" Ethan shouted.

The guns roared again, the line erupting in smoke and thunder. Llyn's head snapped back as a bullet struck his forehead, his body crumpling to the ground. The charging men fell like dominoes, their cries of pain cut short. Blood soaked the earth, pooling beneath the lifeless bodies.

The battlefield still smoldered in the aftermath of carnage. The clatter of swords being collected and armor stripped from the dead mixed with the moans of wounded men. Blood soaked the earth. Ethan stood apart from the others, his gaze fixed on the shattered bodies strewn across the plains. His hands twitched with purpose.

He muttered to himself, "The air rifle achieves comparable muzzle velocity to gunpowder firearms! this is due to the optimized pressure control..... the propulsion system is far more efficient."

Tarwyn approached, his steps crunching. His face was streaked with sweat and grime, but there was a grim satisfaction in his eyes. "I've told the men to chase down the cowards who fled. This batt— exercise was good for them...." he said, though his tone betrayed a slight hesitation.

Ethan glanced at him, nodding curtly. "You're right."

His mind, however, had already moved on. His heightened senses swept over the scene, cataloging the dead. There are corpses in good condition. I'll take a few tonight... delay the burning. Out loud, he said, "Burn the bodies at first light."

Tarwyn nodded. "As you say."


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