The North, Winterfell, Jon's temporary camp
"Watch out! Dodge!"
Following the urgent shouts of the small leaders among the Ironborn, the Ironborn, who were originally in chaos, subconsciously raised the small shields in their hands.
This was a habit they had developed through long-term combat; as long as they heard an order, they would subconsciously complete the action.
"Swish, swish, swish..."
A series of sharp whistling sounds rang out as short spears poured down like a torrential rain. At first, those Ironborn in the front, who had been retreating and trying to flee the battlefield, had not expected this sudden attack at all.
Due to the panic in their hearts, their reactions became sluggish, and they hardly made any effective defense.
These short spears came from an armory in Wintertown, which Jon's spies had specifically placed in the stronghold for the purpose of dealing with certain emergencies one day.
"Argh... my hand!"
An Ironborn screamed in pain, his palm ruthlessly pierced by a short spear. Blood instantly stained his arm, his face contorted in agony, and his voice was filled with terror and pain.
"Cough, cough..."
Another unfortunate Ironborn had his neck pierced by a short spear. He struggled to make a choking sound, his eyes wide open, seemingly unable to believe he would fall here. His life ebbed away rapidly at that moment.
"Ouch... quickly pull this damn thing out!"
An Ironborn was pierced through the stomach by a short spear, and his intestines leaked out. At this moment, he was at a loss, not knowing what to do at all, only thinking about having someone pull the short spear out of his stomach.
"Kill them!"
As Jon's roar echoed down, the morale of the Northern Noble Coalition soldiers soared. They shouted loudly, waving their weapons, and bravely charged at the Ironborn who were still in a state of shock and confusion.
This wave of impact was like a violent storm, directly pushing the already disadvantaged Ironborn into a desperate situation.
"Kill them!"
As the battle intensified, the excited shouts of soldiers from both sides rang out across the battlefield.
After the initial panic, the Ironborn finally adapted. These fellows lived a life on the edge year-round, and their combat awareness and will were very formidable.
During the period of peace in the Seven Kingdoms, the Ironborn continued to fight at sea. Although the Baratheon Dynasty did not allow them to practice the Old Way on the continent of Westeros, it never said they couldn't practice the Old Way of burning, killing, and looting elsewhere.
On this battlefield filled with tension, Jon personally acted as the vanguard, leading the knights of House Manderly from White Harbor at the very front.
These heavily armored knights fought very bravely. Their armor gleamed with a cold light under the moonlight, and under the protection of plate armor, they were as sturdy as iron cans.
Although their movements would be somewhat inconvenient and their strength would decrease accordingly once they left their horses, at this moment, they were still a force that could not be ignored on the battlefield.
Facing the relatively lightly equipped Ironborn, the knights of House Manderly demonstrated overwhelming strength.
In this contest of strength and skill, the gap between the two sides was obvious. Although the Ironborn were unafraid of death, their resistance could not cause even a ripple under such a vast disparity in equipment.
Squelch...
At that moment, a dull sound came from the battlefield; it was the sound of a sharp blade slicing through flesh.
Holding Dark Sister and Blackfyre, Jon was like an unstoppable metallic whirlwind, mowing down the opposition within the Ironborn ranks.
His figure was swift and fierce, every sword swing carrying lethal accuracy and power. With the enhancement of the system's power, Jon was like a god of slaughter descended to earth.
Wherever Jon went, enemies fell one after another, and no one could block his path. The modified Valyrian steel swords, which cut through iron like mud, gave Jon immense support.
When the longsword in his hand sliced through the air and pierced into the enemy's flesh, it brought out a chilling sound of tearing skin and meat. After the Valyrian steel sword left, the tragic scene of enemy blood spraying out like a fountain would appear behind Jon.
Every strike of Jon's sword was a fatal blow to the enemy and a declaration of victory.
Under Jon's leadership, this team quickly pierced through the Ironborn defenses. The Ironborn, armed with short axes and small shields, were no match for Jon at all.
"What should I do? What should I do?"
Theon, located on the South Gate, did not join the battle. He had been using a telescope to observe the situation from afar.
After seeing his side's defeat, Theon fell into a complete panic, and Yara's face also turned pale upon seeing this situation.
Today's situation was something she had not anticipated. Clearly, the enemy had seen through their arrangements and made a corresponding strategy.
Yara had not actually dismissed the possibility of the enemy playing tricks, but this proud Greyjoy did not fear the enemy's counterattack because, in her view, the Ironborn would become stronger in the dark.
The Ironborn lived at sea for long periods; whether it was the swaying environment on the deck or the dark and cold atmosphere in the cabins, these followers of the Drowned God could adapt well.
"Who is that guy?"
After seeing the panic of the Greyjoy siblings, Sonia did not panic like them but instead curiously asked this question.
"Could he be the legendary Dragon King!"
After noticing that terrifying blood-stained figure on the battlefield through the telescope, Sonia seemed to have guessed Jon's identity.
"Since he has appeared, let our Jafar go and test him!"
A flash of excitement crossed Sonia's eyes upon seeing Jon. The Dragon King bloodline was the highest priority for her Lord Naegor. As long as she offered Jon up, her status would likely advance further.
"Go! Jafar, you can use that item to help you when necessary, and I will also assist you from behind."
With Sonia's command, Jafar instantly disappeared from her side. By the time the Theon siblings reacted, Jafar had already jumped down from the wall of the South Gate.
Swift as the wind, Jafar soon rushed into the cluster of buildings in Wintertown. Now, he was like a phantom in the night, his tracks nowhere to be found.
"Eh..."
Jon, who was slaughtering among the Ironborn, soon sensed killing intent. Thus, he quickly controlled the surrounding animals to bring everything around him into his perception.
Through the special abilities of the animals, Jon discovered a figure rapidly approaching him. Consequently, Jon quickly jumped out of the fray and began charging toward that fellow.
Clang, clang, clang...
As the crisp sounds of metal clashing rang out, the air was also filled with a tense and exciting combat atmosphere.
In this life-and-death duel, the speed of both sides was so fast it was staggering, just like lightning streaking across the night sky, making it difficult to capture their trajectories.
Although Jafar's strength was not very great, his speed and skill were very high, seemingly even several levels above Jon's.
After clashing several times, Jon realized that the daggers in this man's hands seemed to be enhanced by some kind of power, preventing Jon's system-enhanced great strength from dealing any damage.
Under Jafar's control, the pair of daggers in his hands were like two poisoned snake fangs, launching continuous attacks at Jon with lightning speed.
Jafar's offensive was like a violent storm, every movement of waving the daggers filled with a deadly threat.
As the saying goes, "An inch shorter, an inch more dangerous." When short weapons are used on the front battlefield, they appear very weak. The reason that group of assassins died so miserably earlier was that they needed to launch attacks from a closer distance; otherwise, they would only become targets for Jon's men.
However, with Jafar, such a rule seemed to lose its effect. When fighting Jon, every one of his attacks was precise and rapid, as if he were naturally insulated from danger.
Jafar's pair of daggers, which carried a strange luster, danced in his hands like an agile venomous snake, constantly moving around Jon, attempting to find a flaw.
Whenever Jon showed even a slight weakness, Jafar would, like a leopard discovering prey, unhesitatingly launch a sharp attack at him, trying to gain the upper hand in this life-and-death struggle.
Every flash of the daggers' cold light was a display of Jafar's cold and ruthless killing intent, while Jon had to concentrate fully to deal with this agile opponent's fatal strikes.
In this contest of wits and courage, every movement and every breath could determine the outcome of the battle, and even the ownership of life and death.
After clashing several times, Jafar's strength also began to fail, while Jon seemed to have endless power, still constantly attacking Jafar.
Huff, huff...
After clashing a few more times, Jafar used an upward slash from Jon to retreat a few steps. At this moment, Jafar only felt a numbness throughout his body, as if a poisonous bee had stung him.
After thinking for a moment, Jafar felt that he truly could not continue like this, so he directly threw out a certain scepter hidden in his robes.
"Zombie Staff!?"
Upon seeing the skull scepter in Jafar's hand, Jon almost cried out. These were items he had encountered countless times, so he knew very well exactly what effect this thing had.
Hum... hum...
After quickly reciting the incantation on it, Jafar, holding the scepter, rapidly retreated. He had witnessed the terrifying power of this thing; retreating was not due to fear, but because his support would soon no longer be needed here.
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