Under the glare of the Praetor, the two trusted aides had no choice but to bravely draw their swords against Duke Modkaesar. As everyone knows, although this Duke has yet to match the historical Phoenix Sword Saint, he is formidable nonetheless.

Fortunately, the adversary did not intend to kill, merely halting the assault from both men. The Phoenix Holy Sword clashed with the two steel swords, preventing the aides from advancing. The Praetor glared at the Duke Modkaesar barring his path, his face somber, bitterly cursing this damned old thing in his heart, also drawing his sword to join the battle. Yet the Duke, engaging three at once, did not lose ground.

The Praetor repeatedly faltered, desperately questioning, "Does the Modkaesar Family truly intend to align with the Rebels?"

"The Modkaesar Family is loyal to His Majesty across generations. During the Battle of Bain, when I stood bravely for the former King, fearlessly facing death, where were you, sir?" The Duke gazed at him calmly, "I will personally seek audience with His Majesty and tell him everything that transpired here, including your deeds, naturally."

The two exchanged blows, the Praetor retreated three steps. The Duke paused, lifting his gaze to the towering statue of the First Generation Duke Phoenix, a history every bearer of the Modkaesar surname is to remember.

He has long passed his naïve years, cognizant that this journey north leans toward peril. The Prime Minister's faction dictates the court, and the rumored capricious young King does not inspire confidence as a wise Monarch.

Yet, knowing and acting against odds is not just for the survival of Phoenix City; moreover, it is for the adherence to this ancient surname, marked by loyalty, valor, and integrity, inscribed upon the Knight's statue.

This is the family's vow, not to be altered lightly.

Enan opened his mouth to speak from behind but was pushed by the Duke. "Go," this tall man firmly said, "Don't come back, you wanted freedom, I'm giving you freedom." He sighed, filled with disappointment.

This youngest third son once was his greatest hope. The eldest son, though satisfactory, lacks independence; the second son was sickly since childhood, eventually dying in a horse-riding accident; only this third son in many ways resembled his younger self.

His father personally told him about this matter, yet few knew of this secret. The more hope there was, the greater the disappointment. He did not want to see this youngest, rather not seeing his shadow reflected in him.

Enan's heart shook, he was a smart man, already understanding from his father's attitude. Yet a strong hand stretched from behind, pulling him backward—that was Mr. Firiel, his father's trusted aide.

Nonetheless, this loyal Knight did not plan to escort him away, merely led him down the high platform. Looking at him, he said, "Leave here, Enan, don't cause any more trouble for the Duke. This is my final warning to you, take care."

"The Prime Minister will not let Father go," Enan looked at the other, finally unable to restrain himself, "as long as he still adheres to those principles, unwilling to betray his brothers, that sword... it changes nothing, Firiel."

Firiel looked deeply at him, shook his head, and turned away.

The black and red on the square grew increasingly numerous, as the City Defense Force supported from all directions.

The Praetor's side was not unprepared; this plan was initially theirs, only the development was unexpectedly disrupted due to the Southern Region Alliance's fierce resistance, utterly derailing the original estimations.

Chaos reigned on the plaza; the Shadow Throne and other Southern Alliance Guilds and grey-clad men each occupied half the battleground, while the City Defense Force nearly lost its line of defense due to the Alchemist Alliance joining midway.

However, more reinforcements continued to stall Ye Hua's advance. As engaging the Natives was impermissible, the joining City Defense Force progressively pulled the combat into a stalemate.

Seeing this, Ye Hua frowned slightly, but beside him came a low sigh from Fang Hong.

At this moment, the ground in the distance subtly trembled.

There, some grey-clad men lifted their heads, witnessing an astounding scene as icicles fell from the eaves. Concurrently, an unfamiliar voice echoed from the communication channel: "Beware, it's the City Defense Force's cavalry!"

Fang Hong, through the Clockwork Fairy, observed a torrent converging in one direction.

The grey-clad men slightly hesitated, hearing another voice from the channel: "Listen to him."

This voice, they are uniquely familiar with: "Chairman Ye Hua!"

Now Fang Hong said again: "The cavalry is two blocks behind you—"

"It's the Patrol Cavalry!" the grey-clad men finally realized.

"How did they arrive so quickly?"

"It's the Shadow Throne's people."

Through the Clockwork Fairy's vision, Fang Hong had already seen them.

The grey-clad men could not help but curse, "Goddamned Super Competitive League!"

The patrol cavalry swiftly crossed the second block.

The grey-clad men turned around, already seeing a silhouette of cavalry at the street's end as the ground roared steadily. At this point, turning back to defend was too late, yet Fang Hong had a nimble thought, softly saying, "Send the Elementalists forward."

"That's the City Defense Force." The grey-clad men hesitated momentarily.

"Don't worry," Fang Hong replied, "I'll provide you an excuse."

"Chairman Ye Hua?"

"Listen to him."

Ye Hua glanced at the latter, simply answering thus.

Time left for the grey-clad side was little; seemingly the opposing cavalry abruptly closed the distance, the earth's trembling becoming increasingly evident.

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