Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 797 797 71 Space_2

?Chapter 797: Chapter 71 Space_2 Chapter 797: Chapter 71 Space_2 The battle was like catching a thief in a narrow alley.

The Fifth Company stationed in Shizhen was blocking the south, while the Sixth Company, personally led by Winters, was blocking the north.

The surviving Terdun Barbarians were trapped between the river, the earthen cliffs, and two forests of long spears, with their space to move growing ever smaller.

A trapped beast will still fight; the Terdun Barbarians made several attempts to break through the lines of the Fifth and Sixth Companies, all ending in failure—Winters’s warriors were not so easily shaken by a few daredevil men of Terdun.

The front-line soldiers and Centurions, clad in armor, were hardly hurt by the bows and arrows of the Terdun people.

Some of the desperate Terdun people threw themselves into the Panto River, hoping to swim back to the West Bank.

Others, however, were unwilling to enter the water no matter what; to wade to the East Bank and soak in the icy, bone-chilling river water was an experience no one wanted to taste again.

Moreover, a good number of Terdun people had already drowned on their way here. To swim back now? Better to die swiftly under a sharp blade!

There were also Terdun Barbarians who desperately decided to abandon their Warhorses, scale the earthen cliff on the eastern side of the road, and flee into the mountain forest.

Winters watched the flustered Terdun people jumping into the river and climbing up the cliff, then turned to give the bugler instructions, “Charge step.”

The bugler was slightly stunned at first but soon snapped to attention, his cheeks puffed out and face turned red as he blew a different tune.

Upon hearing the charge music, the small drums in each company began to echo back, the rhythm of the drumbeat suddenly accelerating from eighty to one hundred and twenty beats per minute.

In both the southern and northern frontlines, many soldiers fell out of step due to not being able to react in time, causing the lines to become loose and chaotic.

However, the fighting will of the Terdun Barbarians, who only wanted to flee, was already gone, and they lacked the ability to take advantage of the opportunity.

The displaced soldiers quickly caught up with their rows, and the lines became complete and unbreakable once again.

Winters had no complaints about this.

There are basically two forms of combat:
One is a chaotic fight with around a hundred people, where there is no formation or order, it’s like a fierce wind and sudden rain, testing courage, martial skill, and the commander’s voice;
The other is where thousands of troops are deployed in the open field, where the brave cannot advance alone and the cowardly cannot retreat alone, relying on discipline, willpower, and collaboration.

Winters had only commanded thousands of troops once, and that was under the walls of Bianli City.

Even then, he was only an adviser; the decision maker and executor were someone else.

Since the establishment of Wolf Town’s army, Winters hadn’t fought a true “pitched battle,” and his troops naturally hadn’t amassed any experience in large-scale battles.

On the contrary, the company commanders and soldiers under Winters’s command were all battle-hardened veterans—those with “wild” experience.

They were experts in the former style of combat: a hundred or so men, in a limited battlefield, conducting raids or counter-raids, short in duration but intense.

Like taking a bucket with a short plank to put out a fire, Winters wasn’t considering how to fix the short plank for the time being, but rather how to better use the existing bucket to carry more water.

Winters’s encirclement was tightening, and as if some barrier had shattered, the desperate Terdun people began abandoning their Warhorses in droves, climbing towards the low cliff.

Compared to swimming across, the chance of survival by escaping into the mountain forest was indeed higher.

The low cliff was less than three meters high, and a thin Terdun slave called “Monkey,” true to his name and as agile as one, had already reached the top of the cliff after a few steps.

Monkey thought he was saved; he hung off the edge of the cliff, fumbling for a spot on the grassy top where he could find leverage to pull himself up.

Suddenly, an agonizing, bone-piercing pain shot through his hands, followed by a second blow.

Monkey screamed in terror as he lost feeling in his right hand; amidst the excruciating pain, he could even feel blood spurting from his wrist.

With a wail of misery, Monkey fell heavily, clutching his mangled wrist—his right hand remained on the low cliff.

The one who had severed Monkey’s right hand was a small axe, not particularly sharp.

Before this, the axe had mostly leaned against the side of an earthen stove, occasionally used to split some firewood.

Holding the axe was a Paratu boy, of similar age and stature to the monkey.

Coincidentally, this boy named “Paulo” also had a nickname “Little Monkey,” which was what his mother called him.

Little Monkey’s mother had been captured by the barbarians, and his father had sent him to the north bank of the Panto River, then returned to join the militia in lower Iron Peak County.

And Little Monkey had cut off a barbarian’s hand, chopping twice.

The barbarian screamed as he fell off the cliff, and Little Monkey saw that dry, mangled, blood-stained hand twitching faintly, as if still attached to its owner’s wrist.

Aside from the thrill of revenge, Little Monkey’s heart was filled with endless fear.

He stared wide-eyed, shouting—as if he were the one who had his hand chopped off—and swung his axe down upon the severed hand, hacking at it several times fiercely.

Until he was awakened by a slap from an older militiaman.

The older militiaman didn’t have time to say anything to Little Monkey, after giving him a slap, he lifted his Stinger Hammer and smashed it down on the head of a barbarian poking out from the edge of the cliff.

One after another, Terdun men fell from the low cliff. Either their bodies were pushed down, or they were struck down while still alive.

Winters was expressionless—the militia was late, but at last they had arrived.

If the Iron Peak County Infantry Regiment merely lacked experience in large-scale battles, then the hastily recruited militia was completely incapable of front-line combat.

The militia only knew how to fight chaotically, to beat down drowning dogs.

While the fifth and sixth companies formed lines to battle on the main road, Winters sent the militia into the mountain forests to cut off the fleeing remnants.

With no way to heaven and no door into the earth, the will of the living Terdun people completely collapsed as they threw away their bows and long spears, crawling on the riverbank, crying out and begging.

The Paratu People could not understand what the barbarians were saying, but they were not mistaken in what the barbarians intended to do.

The bugler looked to Montaigne the Civil Guard Officer, as did the drummer, and many others cast their glances intentionally or unintentionally towards the silhouette beneath the military flag.

However, Winters pursed his lips tightly, and until the Terdun people were all pushed into the Panto River, he did not say a word.

Leaving a small portion of the militia to clean up the battlefield and watch over the riverbank, Winters led the fifth and sixth companies, along with other militiamen, rushing non-stop straight to the northernmost end of the mountain path to [Small Stone Town].

There, another fierce battle was unfolding.

Upon seeing the corpses floating downstream from the upper reaches of the Panto River, Tie Chi knew the fate of those three hundred cavalry forces.

For the various Hurd clans, the annihilation of a hundred cavalry was not just the loss of three hundred men, it was nearly the extinction of a family.

Even though Tie Chi was accustomed to such sights, there was still an indescribable feeling.

However, now Tie Chi had no time to mourn those three Kota because he had hit a wall.

That was a wall that spanned east to west, a solid barrier blocking his path—and a moat.

“Where did this wall and moat come from?!” Tie Chi’s rage was explosive, his eyes bloodshot, as he grabbed a Green Plumed Feather scout and bellowed like thunder: “The land beyond Small Stone Town was supposed to be open ground for horses! That’s what you told me! You swore by it! You saw it with your own eyes!”

“Nayen! When I scouted across the river yesterday, here… here…” The Green Plumed Feather scout turned pale, so anxious that he even had a hint of a sob in his voice: “There really was no wall here! Really, no wall! I swear to the gods! I swear on broken arrows! If I lie, let me be shot to death by chaotic arrows! Let me be trampled to death by ten thousand horses! It must be the two-legged ones! It must be them, they are the ones who built the wall overnight!”

In a fury, Tie Chi swung his massive fist, knocking the Green Plumed Feather scout to the ground: “Nonsense! Mad talk! Do you mean to say that two-legged beings could build a wall in one night!”

The Green Plumed Feather scout swallowed a mouthful of blood, having a sudden realization: “That’s right! Yes! Built in one night! Not just a wall but a fortification! They must have used some sorcery, just like the songs sung by bards! Monsters! The two-legged beings must have summoned monsters, built a fort in one night!”

Tie Chi could no longer tolerate such madness, and with a fierce kick to the Green Plumed Feather’s chin, the scout immediately passed out.

However, even if Tie Chi had slit the Green Plumed Feather’s throat then and there, the wall in front of him would still be solidly there.

The wall stood silently, observing this farce, its silent demeanor seemed like the cruelest mockery.

Just as Tie Chi’s forces struck the wall, a hundred kilometers to the southwest, the battle for the crossing had entered its most brutal phase—close combat.