Her Majestic Battle Cry

Chapter 1318

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The crowd turned their heads at once and saw a horse galloping toward them, dust billowing in its wake. Its rider was wrapped in the warm sunlight, making it hard to see his face clearly.

It looked like who they were expecting, but maybe it wasn’t.

Louis and Timothy both looked up sharply, their eyes instantly reddening. A lump caught in their throats, and they were too overwhelmed to even shout

He wasn’t wearing armor–just the plain, rough clothes of a commoner. From a distance, he appeared ordinary and unremarkable.

The man reined in his horse before the gathered soldiers, his gaze slowly sweeping across them. His face turned slowly, allowing the people in the front row to see it with crystal clarity.

After a long, stunned silence, the crowd erupted into jubilant cries.

“It’s Marshal Sanford! The marshal has returned!”

“Marshal Sanford isn’t dead!”

“With Marshal Sanford here, we’ll surely win!”

“Victory is ours!”

The cheers came in waves, each one louder than the last. It was as if the frustrations of the last battle, the smothered anger, and the hatred for Oliver had all been released at that moment.

The generals watched, tears welling in their eyes. Since Oliver’s cowardly retreat, they had not seen morale so high.

Some people just needed to stand there before the crowd. They didn’t need to do or say anything, yet they could ignite a spark of power and hope in everyone around them.

was the best way to crush

high and called out, “A mere 200,000 enemy soldiers? We’ve defeated them before! We are the new Southern Frontier Army! Do we fear them now? Tell me, do you fear them?”

“We don’t!”

echoed into the

ranks, his voice growing

“Yes, sir!”

The roar was deafening!

Chapter 1318

a coward?

“No, sir!”

stood proud and

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shone on Rafael’s face, casting a heroic glow over him. He looked every inch the War God people claimed him to be. His voice rang out with undeniable strength, resolute and unwavering. “Now show me, with your actions, that you

eye could see, raised their arms in unison, roaring at the top of their lungs, “Sir, yes,

Army, the Sinclair Army, and the Hell Monarch Army, raised their banners high

throats were raw. Yet the fervor of their words did not

long, shaking their confidence. They had almost forgotten

their determination had been rekindled, and they longed for nothing more than to march onto the battlefield and

his voice ringing out with words of fierce

the Southern Frontier! Those who fled are nothing but cowardly traitors, and they will be nailed to the pillar

with the blood of our comrades. We will

our land, they’ll have to step over our

battle, one that will make His

the training field, his words powered by

sounds of rallying cries, hands raised in passionate cheers, lasting