Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest
Chapter 146 - 18: Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!

Chapter 146: Chapter 18: Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!

There were no charging bugles, no beating of drums.

Fifty heavy armed soldiers, carrying large shields, quickly stormed halfway up the hill and formed a double-layered wall of men.

Meanwhile, the light troops, stepping on the large shields that formed a slope, ascended the five or six-meter-high castle walls.

The first to scale the walls was Roman’s Four Stars Apostle, Kao Fisher.

In merely a brush past, he swiftly dealt with two guards, his movements sharp and decisive, earning anyone’s praise.

That year, Kao was fifteen, and it was his first time killing someone.

But he wasn’t scared, his heart filled instead with intense excitement and exhilaration.

This violent emotion even made him forget what he was supposed to do next.

It wasn’t until he saw others orderly charging down the stone steps.

That Kao belatedly followed.

The small castle had no gatehouse, only a thick wooden door that, once the bolt was removed, swung open, allowing the heavy troops, who had been waiting outside the walls, to enter one after another.

Amid the violent sounds of battering the door, the castle’s residents were also jerked from their sleep.

Here lived the coachman, the chefs, male and female servants, as well as the baron himself and his conquest knights.

Jet, wearing a steel mask, lingered at the rear, looking over the not-so-spacious courtyard, he coldly commanded,

"Suppress them!"

In the face of a fully armed army, all resistance was futile.

Baron Hass, about thirty years old, dressed in a thin silk shirt, was tightly bound by the heavy troops.

His face bore clear bruises; he had resisted violently during the suppression.

After Roman entered the castle and learned that there were thirty prisoners, which was the maximum capacity the castle could accommodate,

the guards slept on the walls, the coachman in the stable, and the chefs in the kitchen.

Whereas Baron Hass, conquest knights, and the baron’s heirs slept in their respective rooms.

When Baron Hass saw Roman’s fiery red eyes, he involuntarily exclaimed, "Are you the Lord of Sige Town?"

His heart surged with tumultuous waves.

Earl Kant had coveted the salt mine for over half a year, but wary of Riptide’s reputation, he had only observed.

After the destruction of the Guardian Family, he quickly formulated a plan to seize Sige Town and snatch the salt mines.

This matter was highly secretive and should not have leaked, they were at least supposed to wait until spring to make big moves.

Now, with the snow still unthawed, the enemy had preemptively seized his castle?

So much for the importance of speed in military operations!

Roman ignored Baron Hass’s shock and without even giving him a proper look, simply instructed Jet, "Cripple their hands and lock them up."

The victims were all men capable of wielding weapons.

Not even the women were spared.

All were confined to a single room, which was sealed and blocked to ensure it couldn’t be opened from the inside.

Jet executed the orders accordingly.

Dick, also wearing a steel mask and seasoned in experience, urged, "Quick! Check every place, don’t leave any loose ends!"

At that moment, someone exclaimed in shock, "My lord, look!"

Above the fortress’s top level, wisps of black smoke began to rise from a tower.

Roman grunted, "Extinguish it!"

If the castle hadn’t been conquered, the beacon smoke would have caused him great trouble.

The regions of the knights and barons were very close to each other, at most a day’s journey, mutually watching and supporting; seeing the beacon smoke would undoubtedly increase the difficulty of his plundering.

Though it was bound to rise eventually,

the difference between a little later and a little sooner was significant.

Green, agile in movement, climbed up and quickly subdued the smoker on the tower.

He was an old guard who had escaped during the wall attack; he had seen battlefields in his youth and was relatively composed, heading immediately to the tower.

Unfortunately, in his haste, he lit the beacon smoke without waiting for them to get far.

Roman looked up at Green and ordered, "Bring him down."

Thud!

The old guard fell freely to the ground, hitting the stone floor with a dull sound, blood quickly spreading out.

The rising beacon smoke was also quickly extinguished and covered.

So Roman was not worried about being detected.

The castle was not large, and it was very easy to search. When fifty or sixty people entered at once, there was no room to stand in the castle yard.

Within minutes, the lightly armored soldiers had searched inside and out of the castle, making sure no one was missed.

After quickly plundering the castle’s riches, Roman led his men away swiftly.

This was the first stop of their pillaging plan.

He had expected it to be more difficult, but these vermin really couldn’t withstand a surprise attack.

The narrow and solid castle, meant to be a turtle shell, had ended up trapping them inside, leaving them no time to react before they were subdued in their rooms.

This was why Roman disliked castles.

His manor was much better, with a wide view and no chance of being trapped like a turtle in a jar.

Half an hour later.

All the troops crossed the castle, marching toward the village at the foot of the mountain.

The roads were increasingly muddy. Everyone’s leg pants were splattered with countless mud spots.

Roman was no exception, his white steed filthy as well, the train of carriages following him stretched out for two to three hundred meters.

They could be seen from miles away.

Many stewards from Doug village, having received the news, rushed to welcome them, staring bewilderedly at this unfamiliar caravan, mostly soldiers, whose well-trained appearance was obvious at first glance.

But... where did this caravan come from?

They had never seen such an army before.

This caravan had come from the direction of Lord Has’ castle, and the one at the forefront was clearly another noble lord, with a conquest knight at his side.

"Are you the steward of Doug Village?" Roman looked down and asked.

"Yes, my lord, may I ask..."

Upon receiving a reply, Roman drew his magic steel sword and swung it decisively. Due to the reach of his arm and the distance, he was unable to cut off the entire neck, severing only half of it, blood spurting out.

This steward was not alone; there were tens to hundreds of onlookers.

Not just members of the steward class, but also numerous peasants.

At this moment, witnessing such a bloody transition, everyone was terrified, their faces ashen.

"The well-dressed ones! Kill!"

"The ones who don’t live in thatched huts! Kill!"

"Those who live in comfort! Kill!"

"The non-producers! Kill!"

"Church believers! Kill!"

The hundreds of soldiers behind him, like wolves released from cages, grabbed weapons from the supply wagons and rushed ferociously toward Doug Village.

Roman pulled the reins, and his steed reared up, neighing loudly.

He shouted, "Bind everyone! No sick, wounded, or pregnant women! Only take healthy youths, middle-aged, teenagers, and children!"

Roman spurred his horse to gallop, following behind the army.

Many warriors, like barbaric robbers, stormed into the village without a word, breaking down doors with axes, forcibly dragging every inhabitant out of their huts.

Those who fit the criteria were all killed!

In an instant, Doug Village, once poor yet tranquil, was thrown into utter chaos.

The heavily armed soldiers smashed doors with their shields, dragging men, women, teenagers, and girls outside, while the lightly armored soldiers tossed infants—smelling still of milk—onto wagons padded with cloth and straw. Sensing the change in their surroundings, the infants cried out in misery, a tragic and painful symphony.

Some resisted, but were quickly subdued.

Some fled toward the outskirts of the village, but were soon driven back by Roman on horseback.

There were inevitably a few who slipped through the net.

Roman could do nothing about it; it was impossible to catch everyone and take them all away.

He could only continually urge his soldiers to hurry.

There was no time to plunder belongings, food, or livestock; they just needed to bind people quickly, preferably taking entire families.

The military servants, as previously instructed, quickly took ropes from the supply wagons and tied the villagers’ hands together.

This step often met with resistance.

No matter, a couple of punches would tame them.

You might have lost everything and become a slave, but good days are coming!

The military servants then tied the ropes binding their hands to a thick rope several hundred meters long.

Roman grabbed the other end and forcefully dragged these captives and slaves, tightly bound with ropes, out of the muddy land.