When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

#273 - Like falling into the abyss!

The field of vision was enveloped in black shadows. Through the magnification of the spyglass, Horn clearly saw over 100 knights beginning to array themselves in a triangular formation at the front.

The triangular and rhomboid formations were the most commonly used charge formations by the Imperial Knights.

As long as the first rank and the sharpest point of the triangle could break through the enemy lines, the extraordinary knights behind, even if slightly less capable, could successfully tear open the formation.

This aligned with the charging patterns of the Imperial Knights.

According to Coleboro, knights could not maintain a complete formation like infantry during a charge.

The condition of the warhorses, the knights' condition, weapons, weather, training level, breathing techniques, and various other factors inevitably led to the bravest and best-mounted knights being at the forefront, while the cowardly and poorly-mounted knights lagged behind at the rear and flanks.

Of a hundred charging knights, only the first rank at the very front played a charging role; the rest were likely just taking advantage of the momentum.

Back then, Frisiskar and the others drank 'Khan's Potion' during the Long Bridge Battle to stimulate courage and forget danger.

Every advantage has its drawbacks. This also led to knights being unable to remain calm and attacking rashly during charges.

This triangular formation best conformed to the rule of 'warriors in front, cowards in the rear'.

While observing these knights, Horn suddenly felt a blur before his eyes.

He lowered the spyglass and turned to the other side, only to see the lens blurred by a drop of water.

He raised his head and looked at the gloomy sky: "Is it going to rain?"

"Your Eminence, what did you say?"

"Nothing." Horn handed the spyglass to Hakuto and gripped Bloodcloud Shade tightly in his hand.

The lives of the Salvation Army and the Joan of Arc Fortress residents depended on this.

All preparations had been made; this was the battle that would decide their fate.

"Gentlemen, prepare to fight!"

As soon as Horn finished speaking, his brow furrowed abruptly, and a feeling of discomfort arose from the back of his head.

He raised the spyglass and looked towards the distant Joan of Arc Fortress army.

"We await the Lord of all things in the heavens, whose name is revered as holy..."

"Your power acts in the sky, your will is conveyed on the ground..."

Holy oil was smeared on their foreheads, and a dozen exorcist monks stood behind the knights, their echoing chanting traveling through the forest.

The damp wind made the monks' clothes cling to their bodies. Their eyes rolled back, their hands trembled forward, and their voices grew louder.

Flames representing blessings appeared on their bodies, clawing like tentacles, then slowly spreading forward to the fan-shaped area in front of them.

Within the flames, it seemed as if there was an invisible horseshoe under the horses' hooves, lifting the knights' bodies by more than an inch.

Unless they encountered water depths of more than 2 meters or pits of more than 5 meters, the invisible horseshoes would pass over all traps and trenches unhindered.

Bellard's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed an entire bottle of Khan's Potion laced with alcohol. His vision began to blur, and his body visibly reddened.

Grinning and flexing his arm, Bellard raised his lance.

"Knights, charge!"

The invisible horseshoes struck the ground, as if beating a drum called the earth, causing nearby pebbles to jump.

The wind carrying a few raindrops passed through the gaps in the armor, wetting the knights' clothes and entering their bloodshot eyes.

This did nothing to calm their inexplicably furious hearts.

"Impure ones, you deserve to die!"

Pulling down his visor, at the command to charge, the knights took up their lances or longswords and entered a running pace.

Bushes, streams, mud pits...

No obstacle could weaken their speed. In their blurred vision, those detestable short-hairs gradually appeared.

Bellard's expression gradually became ferocious.

If he hadn't found Huannuo's ruler, his previous defeat would have been enough for Prince Condé to kick him out of the Edict Company.

It's all the fault of these short-hairs!

"Charge! Canter!" Bellard shouted before lowering his body. He was the tip of the triangle, and he had to be the fastest.

But as soon as he spoke, he felt something was wrong. The warhorse's movements were not in the rhythm of a canter.

Not just him, Bellard felt that the speed of all the surrounding knights had slowed down, and the previously orderly formation had become chaotic.

Some knights even collided with each other's horses.

"What's going on?" Bellard shouted.

"Lord Bellard, look at the hooves."

Looking down at the warhorse's hooves, strands of viscous white silk were wrapped around the warhorse's legs, hindering their steps.

This... isn't this the spider silk of those giant spiders in the Wild Spider Forest? When did...

He turned his head sharply and looked at the bushes they had passed through. Under the leaves swaying in the wind, a few strands of white silk fluttered.

Bellard felt as if he had fallen into an abyss.

"Revolve! Revolve to the left!"

Waves of thunderous sounds rang out, and a sharp pain came from his waist.

Bellard subconsciously tilted his body. Under the pressure of the hard armor, more blood flowed from the wound on his waist.

Gritting his teeth and covering the wound, Bellard raised his head. Nearly ten knights beside him had fallen one after another.

"Revolve to the left!" Bellard shouted again.

No one listened to his command. All the knights were lying on their horses' backs, frantically dodging the lead bullets flying past their sides like locusts.

Their hooves were entangled, unable to advance or retreat, and they frantically waited for infantry support in the center of the battlefield.

"Damn it, revolve to the left, revolve to the left!"

Faint commands echoed in the gunfire. Bellard heard a word—"Charge!"

In front of the first line of defense, Bruner held the red pine spear shaft in his hand, standing in the first row of the formation as a veteran.

No one would have thought that the cowardly, hulking fool of the past had become a brigade commander, leading a powerful force of ten Edict Companies.

Bruner had killed many people, both knights and ordinary night watchmen.

But when he stood on the battlefield, facing an empty space with only a sea-like enemy army, he still felt fear.

But Bruner was the division commander's puppet. Besides obeying orders, he couldn't do anything else, or rather, he was the most obedient one.

"Second Guards Regiment! All spearmen, charge in groups of two brigades!"

"Maintain formation! Don't exceed me!" Striding forward with his long legs, Bruner felt that his unquestionable shout was like that of another person.

His big feet trampled on the ground, and he could clearly see the fearful faces of those knights, night watchmen, and armored soldiers.

"For victory!" Bruner took the lead in letting out a roar, and the entire formation echoed with the same cry.

"For victory!"

His pace gradually quickened, and Bruner rushed in front of a wounded knight entangled in spider silk, thrusting his spear out violently.

"Courting death!" Bellard endured the pain and released the hand covering his waist, thrusting his knightly sword towards Bruner.

The spear shaft rotated in his hand, and with the blessing of breathing techniques and the charge, the speed of the spearhead exceeded Bellard's imagination.

"Chi—Sizzle..."

"Ugh—Damn..."

Piercing in from the knight's soft armpit, the cold spearhead pierced through flesh, internal organs, and emerged from the collarbone.

The spear instantly bent into an arc, and Bellard almost fainted from the pain, completely losing his balance.

"Thump!" Sharp pain came from his lower back, and the gloomy sky tilted to one side. The old gunshot wound leaked dark red fresh blood.

In his incredulous scream, Bruner forcibly dragged him to the ground with the spear.

When Bruner retracted the spear, the blood-stained tip still hung with Bellard's severed grayish-white blood vessels and flesh.

"Wait, wait..."

Blood flowed down like a waterfall, and his body convulsed involuntarily. Half-unconscious, Bellard cried out incoherently.

His subconscious predicted what would happen to him next.

Jonar quickly stepped forward, kicked open his visor, and smoothly thrust his arming sword through his pain-widened mouth.

"Wai..." With the arming sword in his mouth, Bellard still wanted to speak.

The hand holding the sword twisted violently, and several broken teeth popped out. Spinal fluid and all sorts of bodily fluids flowed into Bellard's throat along the opening.

The spearman pulled out the arming sword, and blood dripped onto Bellard's pale face.

His neck stiffened, and Bellard's head fell heavily to the ground.

His wide eyes seemed to be saying that he never thought he would die in the hands of a farmer.

"Wait your ass, you wait!"

Stepping on Bellard's face and crushing his prominent nose into his face, Bruner once again thrust his spear towards the infantry in front.

On a seventy-meter-wide battle line, the first row of hundreds of infantry collapsed at the first touch.

"Third and Fourth Brigades!" The division commander's command rang out, "Charge!"

"Regroup the formation!" Pulling the spear out of the corpse, Bruner took two steps back and roared at the people around him.

The spearmen of the two brigades charged past them, two rows of spears like a dense steel forest, slamming heavily into the chaotic peasant army.

"Die! You lackeys of the nobles!"

"Mom, watch me avenge you!"

The evaporating hot blood dyed the damp air with the smell of rust, impacting the olfactory nerves of everyone present.

The screams before death, the cawing of crows, the flying blood, and every step landed on someone else's intestines or internal organs.

"Demons, they are demons!"

"Why are there so many transcendents? Father, save me!"

"Impossible, absolutely impossible!"

"They are demons, retreat quickly!"

Under the waves of attacks by the war monks, after three rounds of replacements, the morale of these thousand soldiers completely collapsed.

The supporting infantry retreated and charged backward at a speed faster than when they advanced, like an avalanche.

Or rather, it wasn't just the infantry. After Bellard's death, the leaderless knights began to fight on their own.

Those who were lucky could still retreat among the infantry.

Those who were unlucky were like starfish left on the shore after the tide receded, being devoured by ant-like low-level transcendent war monks.

The corpses of the knights fell from their horses one by one, like giant trees whose roots had been eroded by floods collapsing one after another.