Thinking about it this way, changing the order of these rings doesn't it spell Kipa?
That Count of Jibashan is most likely Duke Kush.
In other words, the Duke is very likely preparing to escape; he doesn't want to rebel at all, and the Church is probably aware of this.
Knowing full well that the Duke wouldn't rebel, yet sending the Imperial Knights here, aren't they afraid of forcing him to fight back?
Did these Imperial Knights really manage to break through the castle so quickly because they were so strong?
Then there's only one possibility left.
Horn's mind felt like rusty, jammed gears, the thought was on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn't think of it.
Or rather, he didn't want to think about it.
Perhaps, the Duke had long conspired with the Church and the Empire, and the tens of thousands of "short-haired" refugees were his gift to the Empire, an entry ticket into the society of Imperial Nobility.
Horn immediately stood up from the ground, but his body froze again.
Return? But what's the point of going back? To inform them to flee?
It wasn't until now that Horn realized the river passage was blocked, these twenty thousand people couldn't leave by water.
The castles and checkpoints leading to the northeastern mountains were sealed off, and the southwest was a flat plain and hills, in such terrain, how could their two legs outrun the four legs of the Imperial Knights?
Let alone that inside Joan of Arc Castle there were more than a hundred Extraordinary Knights and thousands of well-equipped mercenaries, along with vassal troops.
The Duke's secret army was said to be stationed nearby, where could they escape to?
On the flip side, the only way out of the deadlock at Joan of Arc Castle was on this ship.
Unknowingly, the Duke had laid a net that covered the sky and earth.
Leaving, this was the only path.
Standing under the linden tree, Horn watched the slowly approaching ship, the sound of the river so piercing.
"Your Eminence, the ship has arrived."
Looking at the small oar sailboat, he suddenly felt an extreme calm.
Look, the open road lies before us.
As long as he boarded this ship, and given five years, he would be among the top echelons of the first Secret Faction in Black Snake Bay.
Spring Technology was yet to continue its research.
Swamp Town was yet to develop.
He should, as in his vision, complete the initial industrialization of alchemy in five years, draw enough funds from light industry in five to ten years, complete the development of heavy industry in five years, and finally use a sea of spring guns to pave the whole Empire.
Take a step forward, board this ship, head to Black Snake Bay, where a glorious future awaits, and an empire belonging solely to him.
Stay in Thousand River Valley, and there are only endless quagmires of war.
It's time to leave, time to leave... is it time to leave?
Horn took a difficult step forward, but inexplicably, the half-sword at his waist fell off the belt.
He bent down to pick it up subconsciously, and just as his hand touched the scabbard, a voice came from afar.
But that voice was as clear as if it were right next to his ear.
"Our nation no longer needs knights to protect the weak."
Horn lowered his head, the scabbard lay quietly in his hand.
After Danji threw the scabbard to Horn, he turned and charged towards the 2,700 Extraordinary Knights.
"Don't let the children die in front of us old folks anymore."
Horn grasped the sword hilt, feeling the rough texture.
After he inserted the hilt back into his waist, Frick raised his spear and charged towards the 2,000 well-equipped mercenaries.
"I have filthy blood, I only hope to bleed it dry in exchange for justice."
Horn drew out the half of the sword in his hand, he broke this Cloud in the Snow, erecting a tombstone for thousands of blue-blooded orphans.
"What kind of hero am I..." Horn mumbled as he gazed at the sword in his hand, he seemed to see three tombstones.
"What kind of Transmigrator am I—" Horn growled through gritted teeth.
In the moonlight, the red steel half-sword emitted a faint red glow, Horn squinted his eyes sharply, lowered his head, and looked carefully at the blade.
Because Brock didn't know Elven, although he tried his best to inscribe the same inscription when reforging this sword, he ultimately carved two letters wrong.
Yet it was these two letters that changed the inscription on the blade from the noble "Cloud in the Snow" to "Blood Covering Cloud."
Horn's voice was calm and indifferent, like a muttering in sleep, not knowing who it was meant for.
"I should have escaped early on, to be a small workshop master, to be a small manor lord, such grand professions like the Pope and Savior aren't suitable for me."
"Your Eminence?" The René Duvalon beside Horn looked at him with a puzzled look, not just these two.
Everyone present was looking at Horn, rather than waiting for Horn to board the ship, they were waiting for Horn to make a decision.
To make the final decision.
Horn often mocked those like Chen Sheng and Wu Guang as irrational, thinking that those like the Chuang and Xi armies weren't smart.
Why not establish a rear? Why wander everywhere? Why not know to build high walls, stockpile grain, and delay claiming kingship?
Why? Was it because they didn't like it?
"Till my death, I'm still that self-styled smart little town quiz solver."
Laughing self-deprecatingly, Horn lamented in his hometown language.
He couldn't be righteous and dignified, nor could he be ruthless and unscrupulous, neither hero nor anti-hero could he become.
He was just an ordinary person, in his hometown, and here too.
He thought highly of himself, wanting to be a so-called anti-hero, insisting on doing things beyond his capability, dragging everyone into the abyss.