With the target in place, the regrouped legion marched again, following behind the Black Eagle Clan in the direction of the Eagle's Nest Valley. After someone led the way, it only took half a day for the legion to arrive at the Levantine "sacred mountain" in Orvina's mouth - the habitat of the whistling eagle.

The falling cliffs, the towering peaks seem to be sharp blades reaching into the sky, and at a glance it is impossible to see where the peak is, and the stretching cliffs are even more awe-inspiring, and the cold wind sweeps through the air, and the hunting sound of the battle flag of the legion.

Even the procession at the foot of the mountain became a little small and insignificant in front of this magnificent peak. Many soldiers even fell to their knees and prayed to the Radiant Cross towards the mountain, as if they had seen a revelation from the gods.

And the tribesmen of the Black Eagle Clan, who were at the forefront, were already in tears, crying and kneeling on their knees, kissing the cold dirt under their feet over and over again, crying silently—even Iska, as the leader, had already turned over and dismounted, kneeling in front of the mountain, holding back his tears, but the tears kept sliding down his cheeks.

This was their homeland, the place they had abandoned, and now they had returned—beneath the desolate cliffs, Edward silently halted the entire march, waiting for the Black Hawk Clan to end their prayers as they "returned."

In this solemn and solemn atmosphere, a long and sharp sound came from afar, the sound of the trembling heartstrings as if it could tear the air, and a gust of wind followed, so that Edward couldn't help but look up. I only saw the black shadow shuttling through the white clouds between the cliffs. Leave a dark shadow in the sky.

It was then that Edward really saw the appearance of the black shadow - the white wings. The huge figure, after gliding rapidly in mid-air for a while, then fluttered its wings and rushed into the sky, disappearing from sight with that melodious long roar, as if everything it had just seen was just an illusion.

"That is the Howling Eagle, the patron saint of the Eagle's Nest Valley, the watchman of the Levantine Sacred Mountain. Looking at Edward's stunned appearance, Orweina on the side didn't have much smug expression at the moment, and there was only infinite longing in her eyes: "In the past, only my father agreed every year. It will take us up to the sacred mountain to worship the nest of the whistling eagle and pray for a good harvest in the coming year. ”

Edward nodded silently, he had received some information from Iskar - those who had left the Lands and followed Orwina to reclaim their little Renault master were all tribal priests loyal to the Black Eagle Clan, and they were equally good warriors.

When the tearful warriors of the Black Eagle Clan got up from the ground, several barbarian cavalry on horses had also come to the front of the team, holding a totem banner, wandering around the periphery very vigilantly, as if they were still thinking about talking. Or hurry back to warn your tribe.

At this time, Iskar took the initiative to go up and talk to the barbarian cavalry, looking quite familiar. Apparently knowing each other. After some exchanges, the barbarian cavalry looked at Edward Wittwood, who was surrounded by the Knights of the Sacred Tree, with vigilance, but bowed to Edward with no loss of etiquette: "Venerable Lord of Turin, the gates of our tribe are open to you, and I would like to express my highest gratitude to you for your helping hand!"

It wasn't until midday that the entire Banner Legion finally arrived in the tribe's territory and set up a makeshift camp near their settlement.

With the guaranty of Isca, the leader of the tribe, and the priest of Orvina, the two tribes of the Black Eagle Clan finally did not show much hostility towards Edward, but they did not show much friendship - just a few years ago, this land had been at war with Turin, and Berion, as the Duke of Hantu City, would not be soft on anyone who dared to challenge him.

Therefore, after learning that the Turin legion numbered several thousand, the leaders of the two tribes who received the news immediately appeared outside the gate of the barracks with their respective armies, and Iskar, as a guide, stepped forward to negotiate with them on Edward's behalf—if he was not completely sure, Iskar would not have offered to come here.

Edward, who should have been very anxious, was quite leisurely at this time, smiled and agreed to Iska's request, and waited for the final negotiation result in the military tent, and even wandered around the Legion's camp with great interest.

"You're so relieved that the guy named Iska can talk about success?" Shirell Letlane, who was walking behind him, said in a somewhat curious tone, although the purple-haired mercenary's expression was still indifferent: "Maybe he was planning to lie to you." ”

"I'm absolutely sure that he won't dare lie to me. ”

"That's because you haven't suffered a loss yet. With a light snort, Shrell said lightly: "It doesn't mean that this kind of thing won't happen - when you regret it, you won't even have a chance to regret it." ”

Although he said it in a provocative tone, Edward still felt the mercenary's concern, and the corners of his mouth turned slightly, making Shirrell simply not look at him.

"I'm not worried, not because he will be able to convince the leaders of those two tribes, but because I don't care about the matter itself. Edward explained softly, "It doesn't make a difference to me whether he's successful or not—and even if he does, it's just saved me a lot of things." ”

"I have a near-full legion under my command, a squad of hoplites, and your silver blood—I can slaughter them all at will, as I did in the Red Horse Canyon. Edward whispered without the slightest emotion: "The remaining 'smart people' who are still alive naturally know what to do. ”

"It makes no difference to me, or to the kingdom, whether to surrender the Black Eagle Clan or the Night Stalker Clan - the real difference is only in them, those who are on my side can live, and those who are my enemies will go to hell, it's as simple as that. ”

"Sounds like a demon. Shirrell, who glanced at Edward, smiled and said sarcastically: "Aren't the knights of Turin all claimed to be saviors?"

"People like me will never be a savior. Edward couldn't help but laugh at himself: "Not in the past, and even less likely in the future." ”

The two men who were chatting walked side by side in the barracks, but inadvertently, the silver-haired wizard who coughed softly walked over. Syrrell silently turned away from the place and headed back for the Silver Blood camp.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your leisure, dear Lord Edward Witwood. Although he said something with a sincere and fearful posture, his tone was still extremely lazy: "But please forgive me for having to come to you." ”

"Negotiations are over?"

"No, it's much more interesting than that. Marco Tasker's face was a little more teasing: "It's the messenger of the Night Stalker Clan, who is already outside the gate of the barracks, and is anxious to see you!"

"According to him, the Night Stalkers are more than happy to form an alliance with His Highness the Venerable Anson Marcherus, and to supply your army, whether it be food or horses. At this point, the silver-haired wizard gave Edward a piece of parchment: "It is said to be a letter from their Great Chieftain to you, claiming that he has absolutely nothing to do with the clans that are hostile to Turin!"

"Did Orwina and Iskar know they were coming?"

"Of course, I told them about it in the first place—and of course, I told the emissary about the Black Eagle Clan. Marco laughed very cunningly: "They must have been in a hurry by now, and I'm afraid they are all quarrelling." ”

"Then let them quarrel enough. A sneer flashed from the corner of Edward's mouth: "The result will not change anything!" (To be continued.) )