Chapter 431: Chapter 46 Suddenly Reciting a Poem

“In short, that’s the situation,” Aske summarized. “The entire mission process is to enter the trench, cross the trench, rush through the artillery fire range, then destroy their mortar position—and that’s the end.”

“Wait a minute!” Hans suddenly raised his hand. “Did I miss a step? How exactly are we supposed to ‘rush through the artillery fire range’?”

“When the shells fall, watch for where they land, then dodge,” Aske explained. “Just like that, rush over.”

Swordsmen: …………

“What happens if we don’t dodge in time?” Nuremberg asked delicately.

“You might get hurt,” said Aske.

“That’s not just a matter of getting hurt or not,” Hans retorted with vehemence. “Getting hit by mortar shell shrapnel can kill you—dead on the spot with no chance of being saved, right?”

“So, just don’t get hit,” Aske replied.

“How can we ensure that we don’t get hit?” Nuremberg asked with a wry smile.

“There’s no sure way; just practice more,” Aske said. “See a shell coming down and immediately dodge. You have to be fast.”

Swordsmen: …………

There were so many issues with that statement that no one knew where to begin their complaints, and for a moment, there was silence.

How do you practice dodging shells? With live ammunition? If the practice fails, does that mean you’re just dead? What’s the difference between this kind of practice and actual combat then? Chief, how exactly did you practice? In a past life? Is that the reason for reincarnation?

The swordsmen were at a loss for words, but the girls remained calm throughout. After all, they were used to the Squad Leader’s incredible feats—dodging mortar shells was trivial to him.

Only Medea covered her mouth to stifle her laughter, for she knew that Aske’s so-called practice took place in a private server environment at the club, where death meant an immediate respawn. That’s why he was able to practice dodging mortars thousands of times.

In other words, no one present could achieve what Aske had. Reality wasn’t a virtual game; it was impossible.

“Squad Leader,” Medea spoke languidly. “We don’t have the conditions to practice now. Let’s go for a more practical approach.”

“Hmm,” Aske pondered momentarily. “Since you can’t do it, we’ll have to switch to a simpler plan.”

“What plan?” the swordsmen eagerly asked.

“I’ll rush over first and take out all the Temple Knights firing the mortars,” Aske said slowly. “Then you all can rush over for the fight.”

Swordsmen: …………

“Chief,” after a long silence, Hans was the first to react, offering a wry smile. “Isn’t our mission this time to destroy the Temple Knights’ mortars?”

“If you alone could get through the artillery range and take out all the Temple Knights manning the mortars, what would we be going over there for? Couldn’t you complete the mission by yourself?”

“That’s true,” Aske conceded after some thought. “But there must still be something you guys can do, right?” he suggested. “Like cleaning up the battlefield or something?”

Tears streamed down the faces of the swordsmen. Each of us is a high-rank Knight from the Richartnal Knights, and now in front of you, Chief Aske, do we only qualify to clean up the battlefield?

“Oh, right,” Aske clapped his hands and said, “Can I go over there and chop up the mortars? Then, you guys can deal with the remaining Temple Knights, how about that?”

“Let’s do it that way,” Even the always honest and loyal Nuremberg couldn’t take it anymore, he quickly settled on this plan. If they kept talking like this, everyone was going to have a blood spurt.

So, they swiftly entered the trenches. Above their heads were wooden planks covered in cloth, used to reinforce the walls of the trench. Many planks had just been replaced by the Empire’s engineers and were trembling under the distant rumble of artillery fire, constantly showered with dust and dirt falling through the cracks of light.

The group continued their silent, swift march, surrounded by Power Armor Knights and armed soldiers, constantly leaving or joining the team at the next fork.

The trench was unimaginably vast. If not for the help of a Demigod wielding Black Hole Law, it would have been impossible to dig such a vast trench network in such a short amount of time.

With the help of the trench for protection and concealment, they finally reached the trench exit under the constant whistling of gunfire overhead.

A few hundred meters from the exit, the terrain had been bombed into complete disarray. Peeking forward from behind the ruined walls, they saw a wide-open space ahead, pockmarked with craters, dotted with the bodies of soldiers and the wreckage of Power Armor Knights.

Clearly, the Empire had paid a heavy price in the past few days to break through this deadly distance.

“This…” Eleanor’s breathing quickened at the sight of the hellish tableau in front of her, not knowing if it was out of anger or fear.

“Stay calm, Eleanor,” Aske crouched in front of her, eyes fixed on the distant mortar positions, and without turning back said, “This is what war is.”

“They shouldn’t be sending these ordinary people to their deaths,” Eleanor said sternly, “This isn’t something they should be dealing with!”

Nuremberg and Hans turned to her in surprise at her words.

“In this world, there is no should or shouldn’t, Your Highness,” Hans chuckled softly, “The lives of the high and mighty are always worth more than ours. The Empire would rather lose ten thousand ordinary soldiers than risk a Demigod.”

“Hans!” Nuremberg scolded him.

“I understand what you mean, but I don’t think it’s right,” Eleanor said earnestly.

“Naïve,” Hans sneered, shaking his head at her ridiculous persistence.

“Because that’s what we’ve always done,” Eleanor continued stubbornly, “Always.”

Hans was taken aback, unable to find the words to rebut her.

Because The Azure Longsword Mercenary Corps indeed acted differently; in a short while, their Squad Leader Aske was going to bravely take the lead and courageously charge forth.

While they, the Richartnal Knights, had left their Demigod teacher behind at the position, just like the Imperial Dukes, with the same reason being “a Demigod must not be risked.”

But rationally, if one was a stronger entity of higher level, should they not be at the forefront of the battlefield, protecting their comrades and subordinates? Why send the weaker to die instead?

“Because your Squad Leader, our Chief Aske, is a freak of nature when it comes to strength,” Hans quickly found a very sound reason, “Not restricted by the Magic Tide in terms of level, and yet his combat ability far surpasses that of other Transcendents of the same rank, so of course he can charge fearlessly into the fray and wreak havoc.”

“Too kind, too kind, I’m not worthy,” Aske said.

“The Chief’s strength is known to all,” Hans said with a smile, “No need for modesty.”

“To tell the truth, it is indeed so,” Nuremberg agreed with Hans.

“Why have they suddenly started to recite poetry?” Sigrdrifa wondered to herself.