CHAPTER 556: CHAPTER 534 DELAWAN’S MILITARY CAMP LIFE (PART 2)

"Clang!"

A stray bullet skimmed a knight’s helmet, issuing a sharp screech of twisted metal.

The knight quickly hunched down, hiding his head behind the horse’s neck, but a squad of long spearmen charged forward.

A halberd hooked his chest, and several long spears pierced through his warhorse’s neck.

"Neigh!"

A torrent of blood gushed from the wound, and the horse reared painfully, kicking away two spearmen in front before tossing off the knight on its back.

Then it staggered into the forest for several paces before collapsing due to blood loss.

The knight, also fallen to the ground, jumped up after a momentary dizziness, trembling as he gripped his knight’s sword, turning left and right.

"Damn it, I’m a knight, get lost, peasants!"

The encircling Guard Long Spearmen seemed indifferent to his words, raising and lowering seven or eight spears, stabbing at him from all directions.

These thrusts might not puncture the heavy cuirass, but could pierce the arm guards.

Generally, for mortals to use spears to penetrate iron armor meant they had to charge.

But for extraordinary humans with similar breathing techniques, it only required two stamped steps to thrust effectively.

None of these spearmen possessed more than two levels of breathing techniques, but jointly dealing with a three-level knight was more than sufficient.

Soon the unfortunate knight was pierced through the thigh and knocked unconscious by a flail on the forehead.

The last words he heard before losing consciousness were:

"Praise the Holy Wind!"

After the final gust of Holy Wind, the remaining thirty knights fled, leaving behind more than 400 infantry to the Salvation Army.

The guards, gripping their spears, cursed Lakunio and Puzilio vigorously, wondering if this was the peasant revolt?

Clearly, these soldiers were the private infantry of some count, just like Duke Oslar’s Land Servants.

They wore identical uniforms and armor, standing before them as if they were a group of clones.

"Level your lances!"

A sharp command echoed from the black array, and three dense lines of spears, like hedgehogs, pointed towards them, while those baton soldiers emitting lightning had already entered the spear formation.

On the forested path, surrounded by woods, the deep horn sound continually reverberated.

"Don’t lose any face, we are Count Mala’s guards, keep your spirits up!"

"Damn! Saint Master above!"

The leading armored soldiers waved their weapons, encouraging their men, still trying to let out a battle cry.

Unfortunately, the battle cry was only half shouted when rain-like lead swept by, causing the first row of guards to erupt with thick blood from their chests.

In the gusting Holy Wind, these armored soldiers and Night Guards fell in rows.

They couldn’t even see who pierced their comrades in front, just the whoosh of wind and the cries of injured soldiers.

The Guard Long Spearmen didn’t even have a chance to engage in melee before those soldiers were fleeing in tears.

Thus, this church army of over five hundred people was routed within half an hour of the battle commencing.

More than twenty Kush Cavalry cheered, starting to pursue the fleeing soldiers to prevent regrouping and to completely scatter their formation.

The Imperial Guard didn’t stop to loot, instead stepping over the corpses to pursue for a mile as per the manual before returning.

The task of looting was left to the Service Soldiers.

"Ugh—" Holding onto a tree by the roadside, several newly arrived Kush Youths retched heavily, even the boastful Delawan was no exception.

It was the first battlefield experience for these Kush Youths, having never seen a real battle’s scene before.

The largest fight they’d previously witnessed was minor skirmishes between a few lords, where the worst injury was just broken bones.

In the tales of their fathers, the battlefield was a place of glory, of mounted charges breaking through lines, of cheers and flowers in victory.

But they were never told about the guts strewn across the field, the half-severed heads, all the blood mixed with excrement making the air suffocating.

Even Delawan, who was holding back his urge to vomit, couldn’t help but puke when an old Service Soldier smeared brain matter on his face while looting the corpses.

While the young Service Soldiers retched until only bile came out, the seasoned Service Soldiers laughed heartily.

"Still like the battlefield?" The old Service Soldier who chatted with Delawan yesterday asked with a smile.

Delawan coughed, grabbing the tree trunk to stand, scanning the battlefield.

Broken kite shields, knight’s swords inlaid with amber, as the Child Soldiers in Service Soldier roles lowered their heads scavenging for usable weapons and valuable spoils among the corpses.

"Why aren’t they afraid?" Wiping the filth from the corner of his mouth, Delawan distinctly saw three commoner students from Frick Middle School scavenging among the Child Soldiers.

"They adapted far earlier; while you practiced riding and swordsmanship at home, they scavenged the corpses of those starved during famines in the wild," said the old Service Soldier, hands on hips. "How about it, need a rest? You can follow the wagons back to the supply point, rest a few days and then return."

In this battle, the Salvation Army sustained 21 light injuries, 3 serious injuries, all among spearmen engaged in close combat with knights.

The nearly seventy fallen knights contributed over four hundred gold pounds in cash and spoils to the legion, with infantry armor, rings, and leather goods estimated to add another two hundred pounds.

In addition, thirty knights and over a hundred infantry were captured.

The infantry were stripped of armor and weapons, given a few dinars and let go, while the knights were treated differently, sent back to be detained.

The severely injured, spoils, and prisoners needed transporting back to the supply point, though luckily it’s only a day and a half’s journey.

Looking at those silent Child Soldiers, Delawan also remained silent.

A minute later, he shook his head: "I’ll continue with you guys."

In the setting sun, Delawan bid farewell to two Kush Nobility youths, continuing to follow the marching legion, speaking much less this time.

In the ensuing period, this legion cooperated with Kush Cavalry and local Juanist Faction monks, alternately blocking, ambushing, and annihilating.

Even during the riskiest moment, the knight led by Titled Knight Layenna was only 2 miles away from Delawan and others.

Fortunately, the cavalry informed the three nearby legions that their allies were in danger; swift as the wind, they successfully rescued and repelled the opposing 400 elite knights.

For the past two weeks, Delawan’s life consisted of continuous marches, carrying the wounded, transporting supplies to the supply point, then scavenging corpses and moving spoils.

At least for him, the daily 20-kilometer march no longer felt tiring, and brain matter and intestines gradually became less nauseating.

He had almost lost the ability to think, following numbly at the back of the army.

This life seemed endless until the Rangers delivered the latest orders.

Under the Legion Commander’s command, Delawan once again numbly shouldered his pack, but this time upon arrival, he discovered the camp’s extraordinary size.

"With six legions gathered here, of course, it’s enormous," the old Service Soldier explained, yawning at Delawan’s concerns.

"This is the Lapper River Camp; the previous two legions were withdrawn here from the very front line. Ah, these skirmishes are finally over."