The young knight glanced at Malin and then frowned. He took out a photo from his chest, looked at it, and then his whole face scrunched up like a chrysanthemum. "I’m sorry, but I was talking about the championship duel." The young knight looked at Malin, his face full of anger: "This is extremely excessive behavior! Lord Malin!" Well, it seems Malin really can’t hide anymore. Even people from such small places have recognized Malin’s appearance. Malin sighed: "Actually, I’m still the champion of the Goddess of Harvest." "How can you blatantly lie like that!" shouted the young knight, pointing at Malin. Malin was deeply saddened by this—back then, when he entered the field, everyone thought Malin was a pushover. Now everyone sees Malin, and they don’t even bother to fight; they directly question Malin’s professional integrity. Since things were , there was no point in fighting, especially when Malin saw several clergy walking over from the opposite side—there was the old bishop from the Church of Justice looking at Malin with a half-smile, the bishop from the Goddess of Harvest nodding respectfully to Malin, and a big man from the Church of the War God giving Malin a warm handshake. "Lord Malin, I am Eugen Habsburg, the Bishop of the Church of the War God in the Holy Kingdom." The big man introduced himself with a smile and then turned to criticize Malin: "Lord Malin, you are bullying people too much. Even I can see that the fight between you and Lord Hasan had no fairness; you could have killed him with just one finger." "I didn’t fight, did I? Besides, there are no champions among my soldiers; I am the only champion among them." To be honest, what Malin said was true. "But you are His Grace, how can you fight?" The old man from the Goddess of Harvest’s side said while bowing to Malin: "Your Grace, hello, it’s truly regrettable that I’m only now seeing you in person." No matter what, this old man in worn (and patched) bishop robes also counted as one of his own, so Malin laughed it off smoothly—after all, the opponent thought they didn’t have a champion, so he, as the champion, had to appear. The bishop of the Church of Justice handled it well: "Lord Malin, you are still too extraordinary. None of us present can fight you alone. How about this: for this championship duel, let one of our Church of Justice’s champions replace you." "How is that possible, Lord Malin, please let our Church of the War God’s champion come forward." The big man also expressed the same kind spirit. "How is that possible, Lord Malin is from our Harvest Church, and although we are weak, we do have a champion who can fight for Lord Malin." The old man from the Harvest Church smiled somewhat shyly. Malin noticed that the champion called Hasan was already in tears—for Malin here, or the champions of the Church of Justice and the Church of the War God, weren’t opponents he could contend with as a champion of a weaker god. As for the Church of the Goddess of Harvest? Indeed, compared to the Church of Justice and the Church of the War God, it wasn’t considered strong, but the champion of the Church of the Goddess of Harvest could still easily defeat Hasan. Considering Mr. Hasan appears unwilling to fight, everyone discussed and invited the commander of the coalition forces, His Grace the Duke of the Holy Kingdom, Nipal Dorjee, to come over. He stated that the championship duel could be canceled, but since it was canceled, they wouldn’t surrender; both sides would witness the truth in battle. It’s often said that good advice doesn’t persuade stubborn spirits, so Malin had the major churches withdraw from the front line. The old man from the Church of the Goddess of Harvest turned and withdrew his troops, and the Churches of Justice and the War God also fled together. Seeing the three major churches evacuate, smaller churches quickly followed suit, even the champion from the God of Praise and Poetry fled—it’s not that he couldn’t charge into battle, but if he did, it would give Malin a reason to kill him. And if the Transcendent does not go up, Malin couldn’t help in the fight anyway, which is said to be the rule of the Westland. Malin wanted to curse and wave his hand to wipe them out, but considering both Stein and Carter indicated this as well, Malin had to accept it as a custom. However, considering the strength comparison between the two sides, Malin was still willing to trust the soldiers he had trained. The Dwarves were extremely happy—they initially thought when Lord Malin made a move, he’d eliminate the opposition completely, leaving no chance for them to demonstrate, wasting an entire week yet failing to showcase their abilities well in front of Lord Malin. But now, the battle resumed, artillery fired as usual, and the Dwarves joyfully started loading shells. When the coalition forces were still pushing their small cannons up, the Dwarves were already prepared. The Dwarf commanders had long read Malin’s artillerist writings, firing a single shot first to confirm the range, then with the first volley lifted half of the small cannon wagons being pushed from the other side. The other half were handled by Malin’s trained artillerymen. Then, before the coalition commanders could react, the second round of artillery hit those formations, and practice projectiles filled with lime powder didn’t deal much damage—except to the unlucky ones in their path, but the lime powder still inflicted some harm on the soldiers, causing the coalition forces’ morale to collapse, and they began to scatter everywhere. "Is that it?" Dwarf artillery commanders were prepared to use live ammunition, but seeing human soldiers running everywhere, the order had just been given. "That’s it." Carter, hands on hips, looked at Malin: "Sir, I told you already, there’s no need to use cannons on these guys; it’s too wasteful." "Enough, Carter, we must ensure every soldier’s life. Although there is bloodshed and sacrifice on the battlefield, we can’t let our soldiers sacrifice meaninglessly." Stein finished speaking and looked at Malin: "Sir, that knight waving the white flag is back again." "Let him come." Malin nodded. So, the knight dismounted at the front line and then ran all the way to Malin: "Your Grace, His Grace the Duke has decided to surrender, please stop the cannon fire." The knight was almost in tears as he said this. Efforts of imperialism to interfere with the Copenhagen Northern People’s Commune are fruitless; Lord Malin secured a generous ransom with the lives of those useless individuals. The next day’s newspaper featured this in large print, though these coalition nobles were in panic. However, considering the fledgling Northern People’s Commune still needed to recuperate, Malin allowed these noble captives to ransom themselves from the prisoner-of-war camp with their own money. Oh, prices were clear, the cheapest bulk ones were twenty people for a silver coin, and nobles were marked up based on their status. Everyone got what they needed, and Malin took the opportunity to clarify why Northernism wanted to overthrow the Northern Kingdom—after all, Malin said it , whether they believed it was up to them. And with Malin’s words receiving affirmation from the major churches, after making a decision not to proactively invade the kingdoms and agreeing to continue combating Chaos, both sides opted for reconciliation. Of course, Malin found this reconciliation quite laughable, yet for those guys, Malin’s promises were relatively trustworthy—because looking back at Malin’s journey, they found his promises very steadfast. Since so, there was nothing more to say. After hostilities ceased, Malin declared the Copenhagen Northern People’s Commune would receive his recognition, and any attack against them would incur Malin’s wrath and retaliation—everyone knew Malin was a Lord, so naturally, no one dared show hostility. After handling all these matters, returning to Copenhagen was three days later, and as Malin walked in, he saw new guests on the streetlights. Considering they were all unfamiliar guests, Malin decided to find someone to explain things to him.