Richest Mogul

Chapter 1983
Every word Manfred uttered was filled with the utmost gentleness.
Manfred chuckled softly. "For ten years, this copper mirror has never felt different. But now... it's warm."
Perhaps it was just his imagination.
The bitter cold of the border had seeped into his very bones. The soldiers and the remaining citizens had not had a proper meal
in three days. Like everyone else, he had survived on bark for the past three days.
If not for the last shred of humanity left in him, he might have resorted to what many others had done-eating the flesh of the
fallen barbarians, drinking their bone broth.
But he was afraid.
Afraid that one day, if he ever saw Vivian again, she would know what he had done and find him filthy.
That thought alone steeled his resolve.
Manfred carefully placed the copper mirror back against his chest.
Even if tonight meant certain death, he would carry it with him. Perhaps, in death, he would finally see Vivian again.
Nightfall came swiftly.

The entire city was shrouded in darkness. Though the people in the city were gaunt and frail, their eyes burned with unwavering
determination. For every one of them that fell, they would take a barbarian down with them.
No one spoke as they waited. But time and again, their eyes drifted toward their commander-Manfred.
As long as he stood, the army would stand.
As long as he fought, death held no fear.
If they were to march to the underworld, then at least they would have their commander leading the way.
Ahead of them, Glen and the rest of the Holland troop awaited them. They would hold the line. They would protect their people.

Now, it was their turn to protect their homeland and shield the innocent.
In the stillness of the night, the rhythmic pounding of hooves echoed from the distance.
Then came the deafening war cry. "Attack!"
For over a month, they had grown tired of hearing the same thing.
Kemp scoffed. "Can't these barbarians come up with a new phrase?"
A few soldiers chuckled in response.
Even Manfred's eyes flickered with amusement. He turned to the hundred soldiers at his side. "Tonight, we fight to our heart's
content!"
The distant, thunder of hooves grew louder, a clear sign that the northern tribes and the barbarians had once again sent ten

thousand meminto battle.
Tonight was a battle of no return.
Manfred pressed a hand against his chest.
Perhaps it was the heat of his blood, or perhaps it was just another illusion but the copper mirror felt
warm again. The warmth spread through him, chasing away the bitter
cold.
"Mr. Atkinson, if you can survive this... then you must survive." Kemp's voice was hoarse; his eyes
reddened as he looked at the
endless sea of barbarians before them. .
But he already knew—this was a dream, nothing more.
With that many barbarians, there was no way Manfred would ever choose to flee.

The firelight reflected in Manfred's eyes, but his presence remained unwavering, like a god standing in the darkness. "Prepare to
fight!"
"I'll take down a hundred of them!"
"I'll take down a thousand!"
"I'll kill every last one of them!"
"Kill them all!"
The last hundred soldiers stood their ground-there were no cowards among them, no one turned back.
Their eyes burned with unwavering determination as they followed Manfred's lead, charging toward the dense mass of
barbarians ahead.