After the Knights were defeated, they attempted a night raid twice again, but were discovered and repelled by the alert War Cultivators.

Although it was daytime, the sky remained a grim white, and the wind felt damp on the face.

Wearing a greasy apron, Decrama stood on the third floor of the fortress, stirring the ladle in front of a large pot.

The murky, greasy, overly salty meat broth was nonetheless essential for everyone to replenish oil and salt.

With a fake smile on his face, Decrama handed a bowl of meat broth to the sweat-drenched worker.

"Uncle Decrama." A young man wearing a wolfskin hat and a coarse cloth jacket greeted Decrama, "I'm here to cover for my Papa."

Passing the large ladle to another foreman, Decrama wiped his hands with his apron and looked up and down at the familiar but unrecognizable face: "Which family are you from?"

"Uncle Decrama, I'm Pete from the Hochte Family." The young man pulled down the hat from his head and greeted Decrama politely.

Decrama glanced at him: "Old Pete didn't come?"

"Papa fell at the door this morning and sent me as a replacement."

After confirming with several nearby foremen, Decrama nodded to approve the young man's presence: "Alright, you can replace him, but the wages are only half."

"Why?" Pete was shocked.

Decrama reached out and tapped his forehead: "Your Papa is an old foreman, he understands how to manage people and things, yet I have to teach you. With the wages the new master pays you, I'll take half as school fees, any objections?"

Rubbing the swelling on his forehead, Pete accepted his misfortune: "No objections."

"Don't feel cheated, I'm truly teaching you by charging you." Decrama proudly puffed up his chest, "How to deal with the lord is a big lesson, it'll benefit you greatly, I'm telling you."

Little Pete seemed a bit resentful, pouting and lowering his head.

"I'm telling you not to feel resentful." Decrama used his greasy hand to hold up little Pete's ear, making him raise his head, "Do you know how to talk to the lord?"

"No, no idea."

Decrama raised two fingers: "Remember two phrases: freedom and equality. Just say them more often, like how the previous lord liked devout believers, you just say Misaelua more."

"Understood, understood." Pete nodded repeatedly, "So what does this freedom and equality actually mean?"

"You still don't get it?" Decrama lowered his voice, "Equality means the big and small lords are equally noble, freedom means the lords can freely order us around."

Pete's face lit up with sudden realization: "Ah, I see, got it, got it."

Decrama straightened in satisfaction, spotting a retired soldier approaching, immediately changing to a fawning smile: "Sir, here's your meat."

Serving a bowl of meat to the soldier, he noticed a local villager following, and his face darkened: "Get out! Is this something you can eat?"

Decrama claims it's for consolation, but the cooked large pot of meat broth always ends up with retired soldiers getting meat, regular workers getting broth, locals being chased off.

Unbelievable, Decrama clutched the large ladle, starting to daydream; in five days, they really built the fortress.

Yesterday's battle surprisingly defeated Master Knight, he even wrote correction notices, only to burn them overnight.

Just now, when he went to deliver food, he unexpectedly saw the lord of the Monkulus family, his leg broken, miserably chained by the neck, locked in the castle's old dungeon.

This news spread quickly, when he came to deliver food in the morning, several servants of the Kush Knights came to inquire about the situation.

Does this mean the Kush Knights will favor the Salvation Army?

Could it be that these peasant rebels might actually win? Might I become a lord then?

Decrama's heart began to beat violently.

"Give me a bowl of meat broth."

Decrama looked up and saw a worker standing before him.

He instantly swapped his defiant anger for a fake professional smile, scooping up a bowl: "Here, brother, yours…"

"Woo woo woo——" The deep sound of the horn shook the entire three-story fortress.

Decrama's hand stopped mid-air, his face turning pale.

Isn't it just dawn? They only raid last night, how can Master Knight be up so early to storm the castle?

What is going on lately, first the priests fell, peasants became nobles, the rituals are deteriorating!

While cursing the declining morals internally, Decrama's feet didn't stop moving.

He shoved the large ladle into Pete's hand, hurriedly leaving only an "you serve" before sprinting outside the fortress.

As for the few overseers, after realizing, they also ran outside following Decrama.

Only Pete stood there dumbfounded, not knowing what had happened.

But the overseers all understood, this was because Master Knight was laying siege!

Staying in the fortress, they might accidentally get hurt.

Even if not accidentally hurt, if they break the city and see us with this group of rebels, we'd be doomed.

The War Cultivators ran back and forth in neat formations before the mortar wall, their holy guns protruding once more from the firing ports.

Heads flowed like water, the sound of metal friction and collision was everywhere, even though the battle hadn't started yet, Decrama could already smell the stench of blood.

Pushing aside the obstructing engineers and villagers, avoiding the War Cultivators advancing in a run, Decrama panted heavily, running downhill against the crowd.

Along the edge of the ridge, he scuttled down to the first layer.

After this segment of running, Decrama's armpits and chest were soaked, he ran while peering into the distance, seeing the southeast smoke and dust not yet approaching, he relaxed a little.

Raising his eyes to look forward, several low walls were staggered, the spikes inserted in the gaps still bore dark red bloodstains.

Those were the gaps through which Decrama had come, the route closest to his village and the grove.

Even though Master Knights hadn't approached, Decrama dared not slacken, striding with big steps toward the gap.

"What are you doing?" Two long spears crossed, blocking his way, a few War Cultivators stared at him unfriendly.

Decrama stiffened his legs, came to a sudden halt, and the other following overseers stopped too.

Rubbing his hands, he stepped forward humbly and said, "Sirs, I'm here to deliver meat soup, I should leave after delivering."

The two Long Spearmen glanced at each other, one veteran said sternly, "The horn has sounded, the roads are blocked, you can't get out if you haven't left before."

Squeezing out a smile, Decrama handed over two dinars: "Sirs, could you do me a favor and let me out, please?"

"No way..."

"Please help me," Decrama withdrew two more dinars.

"What do you think you're doing? No one is to go outside, we are deploying chevaux de frise and spike stakes!" a Brigade Commander patrolling there scolded Decrama severely.

Seeing the Brigade Commander arrive, Decrama, feeling unlucky, pulled out a Sola Gold Coin (each worth 10-12 dinars): "Master, please make a way, no one will know."

The Brigade Commander was almost amused: "Bribe me? You think you can test us War Cultivators with this? Which War Cultivator can't withstand such a test?"

"No, Master Monk, that's not what I mean..."

"You disgust me." The Brigade Commander waved his arm, and the two Long Spearmen stepped forward, seizing Decrama's arms, dragged him back.

"Freedom and equality, I am freedom equality!" Decrama kicked helplessly at the ground, yelling in desperation.

"Fool." The Brigade Commander snorted coldly.

From a belief standpoint, he couldn't allow himself to do such a thing.

From a benefit standpoint, if they won the battle, he could gain 2, 3 gold pounds or even more in loot; being noted by a Military Judge for this would be a huge loss.

Thrown to the ground by two War Cultivators on the edge of the ridge, Decrama's body landed heavily, raising a cloud of dust, he held his back, groaning in pain.

The few overseers, seeing Decrama had taken the lead for them, dared not to tempt fate, gathered around him, whispering for his advice.

"Brother Decrama, what do we do now?"

"Damn mountain goat, just a lowly commander blocking us…" Decrama fiercely sat up by the ridge, supported himself, and said, "Let's go up to the third-level castle, it's safer there."

"Brother Decrama, it won't work." an overseer said with a frown, "The passage is blocked by Long Spearmen, we can't get through."

"What?!" Decrama extended his arms, "Help, help me up, I need to complain to Legion Commander Juer Dan."

The overseers exchanged glances, speaking with difficulty: "It was the Legion Commander Juer Dan's order."

"Ah?!" After his shock, Decrama became aggrieved and disheartened, "How could it be like this?"

An old overseer said helplessly: "Are new and old masters any different? Master Knights don't care about our life and death, War Cultivator Masters will care too?

We should quickly find a place to hide, think of a way to sneak to the second layer and then talk."

"Yes, yes, let's hide quickly." Seeing the threat to his life, his previous complaints and astonishments dissipated.

Constantly praying in his heart for the battle to end soon, Decrama walked toward the gathering place of villagers.

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