When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

#687 - Fight! (Rounded to 6k words, super huge two-in-one chapter)

The fist-sized iron ball cut through the arc, smashing into the reeds, sending mud and grass blades flying into the sky.

As the strong wind blew, Taskin bent over again, fearing he would be exposed from behind the bushes.

Parting the reeds, he lay prone on the damp mud, shrinking behind the mound, squinting to observe the battlefield situation.

After escaping, Taskin did not leave the battlefield but found a place nearby with a few companions to lie in ambush.

Although he didn't know which knight had ordered his interception, as long as it wasn't the Earl, it wasn't a big deal.

Despite the palpitations he felt whenever he thought of the scene just now, it didn't stop him from staying.

When a wizard shows his power, everyone's legs will surely weaken, but if they run into monks and extraordinary knights, things become uncertain.

If the situation improves, he can join in, which would be worth the Duke of Podosa's one gold coin per month.

As a mercenary, Taskin is very professional.

The first "Iron Meteor" cut through the air, dragging a sharp whistle as it smashed into the ground.

Taskin held his breath, his heart almost skipping a beat.

However, this lone shell stopped just in front of the knight's formation, the churning mud and grass obscuring the view.

These extraordinary knights and elite mercenaries are mostly battlefield veterans, with higher morale and stress resistance than normal soldiers.

They were shocked for a moment, the front of the army stagnating and chaotic for a few seconds, but quickly regained composure under the scolding of Earl Kazik's supervising team.

"How is it? Brother Taskin, you have good eyes, is this battle easy to fight?"

"Not engaged yet, let's see." Taskin retracted his head from behind the mound, turned his head and whispered, "But in my opinion, it should be fifty-fifty. The accuracy of those meteors is not good. Just now, seven or eight shots were fired, only one person was injured.

As long as this knightly phalanx withstands the meteor bombardment, once it comes to close combat, with the loose formation of those Thousand River Valley infantry, the knights have a greater chance of victory.

Of course, if the knights collapse first, then when the elite Patriarch Guard comes up from the rear, I am afraid that all that will be left is to abandon their armor and escape."

"So it's still a battle of willpower."

"Yes, who would have thought." Taskin sighed, "The infantry can actually play a battle of willpower against the knights. No wonder Prince Condé was tricked."

"I heard that Thousand River Valley is recruiting national servants and paying very generously. When the money here is settled, why don't we go and see?"

"We're still at war, where are you thinking?" Taskin kicked his helmet with his foot, "Focus, don't daydream."

Taskin's words were interrupted by the roaring sound that rang out again. He immediately shut up, grabbed the rock, and poked half of his head out from behind the mound.

This time it was still an "Iron Meteor", but as the knights and the Salvation Army continued to move towards each other, this "Meteor" had already smashed into the side of the knightly phalanx only a few dozen steps away.

A wave of mud and duckweed rose up, the entire puddle was shaking, and even a few water snakes and water rats crawled ashore in a daze, disappearing into the stream in a panic.

The stench stirred in the wind, and many knights' faces changed slightly.

This smell doesn't feel right.

"How is it?" Looking at the effect of the two test shots, Lules asked Mormont, who was present.

Mormont put down his binoculars: "The positioning is almost accurate. Anyway, the Falcon Cannon is a flat shot. These two shots are just for positioning the Sand Sculpture Cannon."

"How long will it take for the Sand Sculpture Cannon to be transported up?"

"Um." Mormont took out his pocket watch, "I think it may take about a quarter of an hour. The main reason is that the commander on the opposite side is quite smart and is walking on the inside, so our Griffin ship cannons can't hit them. What a pity..."

"But you can rest assured that I have arranged for two regiments of Divine Punishment Army in advance, with ten Falcon Cannons, to pass through the side forest. Then there will be a double holy wind attack."

"Very good." Lules nodded. She hesitated for a few seconds and still asked, "Are you sure you really don't need me to go into battle?"

"Don't go into battle." Mormont hurriedly stopped her. "If you go into battle, these guns and cannons don't have eyes. What if they hit you? We'll be tied up instead."

Lules lit her pipe with some disappointment: "Okay, then I'll go see how the hydraulic winding machine is installed."

After Lules left, Mormont continued to calculate the distance with his binoculars in high spirits.

"Six hundred steps... almost there." Muttering to himself, Mormont ordered the adjutant beside him, "Shooting angle 2, every 7 as a group, alternate firing, after the enemy enters one hundred and fifty steps, retreat after firing the shells in the barrel."

After the two positioning test shots were completed, the first shot was to measure the longitudinal distance, and the second shot was to measure the lateral distance. In the calculations of the astrologers, 14 Falcon Cannons began to slowly adjust the left and right direction of the muzzle.

"Praise the Holy Wind!"

As if the thunder god in the Norn legends was driving a chariot across the sky, with a rumbling sound, seven shells were fired flat.

"Here it comes!" Taskin, hiding behind the mound, roared in a low voice, and concentrated all his attention on the battlefield.

In his constantly blinking eyes, the distant shells quickly changed from blurred black spots to the howling wind of fire hell.

"Ah--" The screams instantly occupied the knights' ears. Almost in an instant, a total of eight knights in the first three rows were almost overturned.

The knights in the middle were caught off guard and almost tripped, while the knights in the rear were still wondering what was going on.

"Engaged? What happened in the front row?"

"Chanters, quickly suppress the enemy's spells, quickly!"

"Save me... save me..."

Earl Kazik, protected in the middle by the supervising team, stood there blankly. He, who has always been known for his agility, did not react for a while.

The iron ball hit the knights when the two sides were still about five hundred steps apart!

But he clearly saw a brave knight moving forward firmly, suddenly his feet left the ground, let out an almost lady-like scream, and then his butt went backwards and smashed out.

That was a rare high-level knight with edict combat power, but in the blink of an eye, the knight's chest was pierced by a cannonball, and blood gushed out from the broken armor, splashing the surrounding knights.

Even the iron ball that pierced his armor continued to smash the thigh of a knight behind him before stopping.

Although only 3 of the 7 shells hit, due to the knights' too dense formation, almost every shell pierced at least two people.

The dense phalanx that was originally used to protect them has now become a curse.

"Keep moving forward, keep moving forward!" After the shock, Earl Kazik quickly reacted. He drew his short sword and slammed it **** the helmets of the knights in the front row, waking them up from their daze.

"Don't be afraid, it's just a new type of crossbow, they can't fire a few shots at a distance of a few hundred steps, rush over! Loyalty and glory!"

Currently, they occupy relatively open and stable terrain, allowing them to assemble and deploy troops.

If they retreat at this time and give this relatively hard ground to the Salvation Army, then they will never have a chance to assemble again.

Earl Kazik clenched his short sword, his palms already wet with sweat.

He vaguely felt that forming a large phalanx was a mistake, but if he retreated, then there would probably be no chance to attack again.

"Loyalty and, and glory!" A knight captain shouted stutteringly, and the monks even used their last bit of strength to cast spells to dispel fear on these knights.

When the warm spells landed on their bodies, their pounding hearts calmed down, and their legs, which were originally as heavy as lead, became lighter.

It's just that when they stepped over those bloody corpses with hollow eyes, the large phalanx that was originally moving forward normally unconsciously slowed down.

Although only five knights died, this invisible spiritual shock was difficult to erase.

They can endure death, but not this kind of death, this kind of inexplicable fall without even starting the battle and without even seeing the enemy's face.

The death of flesh and blood flying around and broken limbs all over the ground is not their glorious death.

Almost a minute later, there was another violent roar, and this time more were hit.

In the whistling sound of the shells breaking through the air, seven or eight knights in the front row fell or even flew out.

The mountain copper clockwork was winding the airflow, making a sharp bagpipe-like sound from the balance hole.

As the Falcon Cannons retreated in unison, the huge iron ball rushed out in the violent friction between the firing rod and the barrel, and shot out in a very small parabolic line.

Breaking through the resistance of the air, breaking through the interception and caress of the reeds, four of the seven fist-sized iron balls slammed into the knights with a clang.

Those who were lucky only had their hands and feet broken, and those who were unlucky were hit in the torso, and even their ribs and spine flew out from their back heart, splashing their comrades behind them.

The comrades at this time don't want to get better, as long as the over-penetrating shells basically can break their legs.

Broken iron pieces and messy broken limbs swept through the army, and they didn't even see the enemy's face.

"It's okay, it's okay, rush over, they only have two thousand people, as long as we kill them, their horizontal formation can't stop us." Earl Kazik shouted hoarsely, running back and forth with the supervising team and monks.

The knight captains and high-level knights in the battle formation also roared around: "Those who are afraid of death get out, there are only a few catapults, they can't fire many times."

Holding great swords and carrying long halberds, the knights became suspicious again for a while.

In this era, it is generally true that the greater the power and the longer the range, the lower the firing frequency of the projectile weapons. This has been demonstrated by Er scholars.

Under the double stimulation of potions and divine arts, they still bit the bullet and continued to rush forward.

It is a pity that after being silent for more than a minute, the third round of shelling arrived as scheduled, followed by the fourth round, the fifth round, the sixth round...

In the next ten minutes, 14 Falcon Cannons fired continuously, firing nearly sixty shells.

Each time, two groups of cannons fired seven shells, firing at these knights with smaller and smaller shooting angles.

As the distance got closer and closer, facing such a wide phalanx, they didn't even need to aim to put all the solid shells into the most crowded crowd.

The speed of the large phalanx became slower and slower, and they even had to stop and wait for the knights in the rear to come forward to fill the gap.

But everyone didn't want to come forward, they could only hide on both sides, and the formation actually developed from a phalanx to a horizontal formation.

The two sides have not really engaged yet, and the noble coalition of the Lilac Corridor has already had a nearly 5% casualty rate.

"Archers, archers!" After a frantic run, Earl Kazik's shout to call the archers even trembled faintly, "Haven't the demon hunters solved those mages yet?"

"I can't feel any spellcasting reaction, Your Excellency." A servant ran over, bowing his waist in fear, "Those catapults are not mages casting spells, there is no spellcasting reaction."

"Then won't the demon hunters go directly to assassinate? Let them go to assassinate and destroy a catapult, reward 300 gold pounds."

Although there must be brave men under heavy rewards, unlike mages, these cannons are densely arranged, right under the eyes of the Holy Gunners.

As soon as a few demon hunters approached, there was a volley of muskets. After finally getting close, looking at such a big iron thing, they couldn't figure out how to destroy it.

In the end, except for the corpses of their companions, they didn't even bring back a single hair.

Overhead were huge iron balls whistling past, and a knight would fall with limbs flying around as he walked.

Under such enormous pressure, Earl Kazik ran around, offering bounties and promising titles, and relying on the supervising team and the monks' divine arts, he brought these more than 2,800 full-armored knights to a position of about 150 steps.

When the two sides could see each other's flags clearly, they were about to engage.

Lead bullets struck sparks on the armor, and the clock bullets falling from the sky made the knights shake their heads involuntarily, but they couldn't scratch the itch behind their ears through their helmets.

"Finally here." Earl Kazik gritted his teeth and looked at the enemy's scattered formation in front of him, looking at the sparse formation, Earl Kazik suppressed the excitement in his heart, "Last time to reorganize the team, prepare to charge!"

The most ⊥ new ⊥ small ⊥ said ⊥ is ⊥ in ⊥ six ⊥ 9 ⊥⊥ book ⊥⊥ bar ⊥⊥ first ⊥ hair!

"Roar--"

Responding to him was the knights' long-suppressed anger. They had been beaten by this group of farmers for more than ten minutes, and now they finally had the power to fight back.

The more than two thousand Salvation Army soldiers standing opposite each other also began to lean closer and flatten their spears, preparing to deal with the impact.

"Stand still!"

"Go to the front row, those with two-handed swords go to the front row, Duke Podosa rewards 100 gold pounds!"

"For glory, for the Lilac Corridor!"

"...Ancient heroes are nowhere to be seen, now there are lead bullets and cannonballs..."

"The other side's catapults have stopped firing, they must be scared!"

"...Unheard of Holy Father's hand, indestructible clockwork gun..."

"Who is singing, who is allowed to sing?" Hearing the singing coming from the noisy shouts, a knight roared impatiently.

"...Our monks are all divinely chosen, even if there are thousands of difficulties, we are not afraid..."

"Who is singing? Who is singing?" Hearing the increasingly clear singing, the knight captain angrily looked around, but suddenly he turned his head sharply to the side of the forest.

That is? The knight slowly widened his eyes, and the speed of his heartbeat increased crazily in half a second.

At the edge of the forest, the Divine Punishment Army, covered in mud and fallen leaves, with leeches behind their ears and calves, appeared in sight.

What terrified him most wasn't the cavalry on the flanks, but the platforms rising from the muddy water and the row of small clockwork cannons slowly being pushed onto them.

“Eh, eh, eh—” In his desperation, the knight couldn't even speak properly, just wildly pointing at the forest and shouting, “Archers, archers, volley fire over there, quickly! Quickly!”

“Sing we row on row…”

As the singing grew clearer, the knights on the right side of the formation turned their heads, horrified to see another squad of Salvation Army soldiers suddenly appearing.

And the row of 3-pound falcon cannons in front of them.

“Sing we row on row… Holy Alliance Salvation Army!”

Chaos erupted on the right flank, but Count Kazik was completely unaware, because behind the dozen or so catapults on the opposite side, new behemoths were emerging.

“For glory!”

The battle cries of the knights around him seemed a hundred paces away, as Count Kazik stared blankly at the enlarged versions of the “magic catapults.”

No, no!

Count Kazik wanted to shout, but the sound was stuck in his throat, unable to come out.

New magic catapults, four new magic catapults!

“Praise the Holy Wind!”

The devil's whispers spoke hymns of praise to the Holy Father.

“Boom, boom, boom, boom—”

Coordinating with the four direct-firing Sand Sculpture Cannons, twenty-four falcon cannons roared in unison.

When the cannon fire rang out, Count Kazik felt his heart stop.

Although the cannonballs didn't directly hit him, the flying mud and impact felt like a heavy punch to his chest.

“Count, my lord.” The dirt-covered servant immediately reached out to help him, but Count Kazik pushed him away.

Brushing aside the mud and smoke in front of him, Count Kazik stared blankly at the grapefruit-sized iron ball not far away.

Looking up again, the front row of the formation was gone.

The once-orderly ranks were now a bloody mire, with mangled bodies and broken spears scattered on the ground.

When the heavy, grapefruit-sized iron balls landed in the dense formation, they immediately rolled out a bloody path in the ranks.

The knights in the first three rows groaned in agony, their limbs severed by the cannonballs, blood flowing uncontrollably, able only to look at Count Kazik in despair.

“Holy Father—”

The knights in the front row pressed backward, but the dense formation locked them in place.

Some roared madly, some shoved their comrades trying to escape, while more just stood there, letting the scalding blood soak their armor.

Some of the knight captains were still shouting “Hold the formation!”, but no one listened to them, and even they themselves were soon struck down by the Holy Wind.

Only hundreds of knights, driven by immense fear, raised their lances and longswords, bypassed their comrades, and launched a desperate, reckless charge towards the Salvation Army.

But they had only run a few steps before the Holy Riflemen in the distance raised their clockwork rifles.

Lead bullets pierced through the charging foot knights, sending up splashes of mud and flesh fragments. The knights, as they ran, shuddered and collapsed.

Very few greatswordsmen actually made it to the front lines, and even those who did were quickly overwhelmed by a dozen or so fine steel spears, kneeling on the ground clutching wounds to their throats and armpits.

A splinter of bone grazed Count Kazik's cheek, taking away a piece of flesh, and blood flowed down his cheek.

But he just stood there woodenly, listening to the screams, gunfire, and cannon fire around him, his hands and feet ice-cold.

The usually calm count couldn't even control his body's trembling, nor could he stop the dizzying tinnitus.

The formation seemed to retain its original organization, but he knew in his heart that it was only because the defeat was too swift, and the knights hadn't had time to react.

He had lost, he had already lost.

The Sand Sculpture Cannons roared again, and six-pound cannonballs landed in the formation, instantly tearing three knights' bodies into shattered flesh.

The order of the formation was like a tear opening up, and fear spread rapidly from the crack.

The knights had never seen such a way to die—silently, irresistibly, like a joke from the Grim Reaper.

“Run!”

Someone let out a piercing scream, a sound that seemed to break through the last barrier.

The knights began to scatter and flee, the corpses and mud under their feet causing them to stumble. In the confusion, they even drew their swords and hacked at each other, just to fight for a way out.

“Our army is defeated, our army is defeated.”

“Run, run, they have the help of devils.”

“I saw it with my own eyes, their iron pipes are connected to the fire hell, run!”

The wounded knights cried out, some even kneeling on the ground begging for mercy.

Fear spread from one to another, and the knights who were only wavering quickly succumbed to flight. They dropped their heavy armor and weapons and began to push and run wildly.

There were even several incidents of trampling and mutual attacks.

Watching the chaotic scene around him, Count Kazik could no longer support himself and collapsed to the ground, letting his comrades flee or fall beside him.

He looked at the enemy formation in the distance. Their catapults and clockwork rifles were still firing, and the knights were like a pile of crude targets.

“Everyone respects Dalia, worships Klahrus.

Alexandrus, is the hero's name like this?

Looking at the world today, who can compare with him.

Only we row on row, Holy Alliance Salvation Army!”

In the orderly singing and drums, thousands of spearmen marched to the beat, beginning to drive the knights towards the riverbank.

Hiding behind the hills, Taskin and the other mercenaries who witnessed the whole process turned pale.

They watched the knight lords either wailing on the ground or running all over the mountains, unable to say a word.

All they could hear was the melodious singing.

“Ancient heroes are nowhere to be seen, now there are lead bullets and cannons.

Unheard of Holy Father's hand, indestructible clockwork rifle.

We monks are all divinely chosen, even with a thousand difficulties, we are not afraid.

Sing we row on row, Holy Alliance Salvation Army!”