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

sword high and called out, “A mere 200,000 enemy

“We don’t!”

echoed into

his horse forward through the ranks, his voice growing louder. “Tell me, can you defeat

“Yes, sir!”

The roar was deafening!

Chapter 1318

a

“No, sir!”

soldiers stood proud and

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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,

of soldiers, stretching as far as the eye could see, raised their arms in unison, roaring at

composed of the original Southern Frontier Army, the Sinclair Army, and the Hell Monarch Army, raised their banners high their voices chanting

their throats were raw. Yet the fervor of their words

them for so long, shaking their confidence. They had almost forgotten that

marshal, their spirits had been reignited. It was as if the flames of their determination had been rekindled, and they longed for nothing more than to march onto the battlefield and fight with everything they had, letting their resolve

voice ringing

who fled are nothing but cowardly traitors, and they will be nailed to

home. Every inch of land has been stained with

they can take our land, they’ll have to step over our

will shake our resolve to defeat the enemy. We must fight a glorious battle, one that will make His Majesty and all

words powered by his inner force, reaching every soldier

with the sounds of rallying cries, hands raised in