The horizon was enveloped in black shadows. Through the magnification of the telescope, Horn could clearly see over a hundred knights beginning to form a triangular formation in front of the array.

The triangular and rhombus formations are the most commonly used charge formations by the Imperial Knights.

As long as the first row and the sharpest point can break through the enemy lines, the Extraordinary Knights behind, even if slightly behind, can smoothly tear through the formation.

This aligns with the charging principles of the Imperial Knights.

According to Kolebo, during a knight's charge, it's impossible to maintain a complete formation like infantry.

Various reasons such as the horse's condition, the knight's status, weapons, weather, training degree, and breathing method result in brave, good-riding knights charging at the front, while cowardly, poorly-riding knights fall behind on the flanks.

Among a hundred charging knights, only the knights in the first row up front play the role of leading the charge, while those behind are likely to engage in downhill battles.

The 'Courage Potion' that Friscia and others consumed during the Battle of the Long Bridge was to inspire courage and forget the danger.

Pros and cons coexist, resulting in knights unable to remain calm and launching reckless attacks during the charge.

This triangular formation most closely complies with the rule of braves in front and cowards behind.

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

He put down the telescope and turned to the other side, only to see a drop of water had blurred the lens.

Looking up, Horn gazed at the gloomy sky: "Is it going to rain?"

"Your Grace, what did you say?"

"Nothing." Horn handed the telescope to Hakuto, gripping the Blood Covering Cloud tightly.

The Salvation Army and Joan of Arc Castle people's lives are at stake here.

All preparations have been made; this is the battle that will decide their fate.

"Gentlemen, prepare to engage!"

Just as Horn finished speaking, his brows furrowed sharply as a sense of discomfort rose from the back of his head.

He raised the telescope, looking towards the distant army of Joan of Arc Castle.

"We beseech the Holy Father, supreme among the heavenly hosts..."

"Your power acts in the sky, your will is transmitted on the earth..."

Holy oil was applied to the forehead, and a dozen Exorcist Cultivators stood behind the knights, their echoing chants traversing through the woods.

The damp wind clung to the monks' garments, their eyes rolled back, and their hands trembled forwards, their voices grew louder.

The light flames representing blessings danced like tendrils on their bodies, then slowly spread forward into a fan-shaped area.

In the flames, there seemed to be an invisible horseshoe under the hoofs, lifting the knights' bodies by over an inch.

Unless encountering water more than 2 meters deep or holes over 5 meters wide, the invisible horseshoes would tread over all pits and trenches unhindered.

Belard's Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed an entire bottle of the intoxicating Courage Potion, his vision began to blur and his body visibly reddened.

With a ferocious grin, Belard flexed his arm and raised the lance in his hand.

"Knights, charge!"

The invisible horseshoes struck the ground as if beating a drum named earth, causing nearby pebbles to bounce up.

The wind, with a few drops of rain, passed through the cracks in the armor, soaking the knights' clothes and leaping into their scarlet eyes.

This did nothing to calm their inexplicable rage.

"Impure ones, you deserve to die!"

Pulling down their visors under the command to charge, the knights wielded their lances or longswords, entering a sprint.

Shrubbery, streams, mud pits...

No obstacle could lessen their speed, and in the blurred vision, those accursed short hairs gradually appeared.

Belard's expression gradually grew fierce.

If he hadn't found Juanuo's yardstick, the previous defeat would have been enough for Prince Kongdai to kick him out of the command chain.

It's all the fault of these short hairs!

"Charge! Attack step!" Belard shouted, then crouched down; he was the point of the triangle, needing to be the fastest.

But as soon as he finished speaking, he noticed something was wrong; the horse's movements were not in the rhythm of an attack step.

Not only him, but Belard also realized that all the knights around him slowed down, and the originally tidy formation turned chaotic.

Some knights even collided with each other on horseback.

"What's going on?" Belard shouted.

"Lord Belard, look at the hooves."

Looking down at the war horse's hooves, thick white threads were wrapped around the animal's legs, binding their strides.

This is... aren't these the webs of giant spiders from the Wild Spider Woods? When did...

Jerking his head back, he looked towards the shrubbery they had passed through, under the leaves swaying in the wind, white threads fluttered.

Belard felt as if he fell into an abyss.

"Turn! Turn left!"

Thunderous waves of sound arose, and intense pain came from his waist.

Belard instinctively tilted his body; under the pressure of the hard armor, more blood flowed from the wound on his waist.

Clenching his teeth to press the wound, Belard looked up, seeing nearly a dozen knights around him had fallen one after another.

"Turn left!" Belard shouted once again.

No one listened to his orders. All the knights were lying flat on their horses, frantically dodging the bullets flying past them like a swarm of locusts.

Their horse hooves were entangled, unable to advance or retreat, panicking in the center of the battlefield, awaiting the support of the infantry.

"Mad, turn left, turn left!"

Amidst the faint sound of commands and the roar of gunfire, Belard caught a single word - "Charge!"

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

No one would have thought that the once timid big fool had become a brigade commander, leading ten formidable battalions.

Brune had killed many people, knights as well as ordinary Night Guards.

But standing on the battlefield, with no one in sight and only the tide-like enemy forces, he still felt fear.

However, Brune was the puppet of the brigade commander, incapable of anything but following orders, or rather, he was the most obedient to orders.

"Second Imperial Guard Corps! All long spearmen, charge in groups of two brigades!"

"Maintain the formation! Do not surpass me!" With long strides, Brune's unquestionable shout felt like it belonged to someone else.

Stomping heavily on the ground, he could clearly see the terrified faces of the knights, Night Guards, and Armored Soldiers.

"For victory!" Brune let out a furious roar, echoed by the entire formation.

"For victory!"

Picking up speed, Brune rushed to the side of an injured knight ensnared by cobwebs, thrusting his spear forward fiercely.

"Seeking death!" Enduring the pain, Belard released his grip on his waist, thrusting the knight's sword towards Brune.

The spear shaft rotated in his hands, and with the aid of breathing techniques and the charge, the spearhead moved faster than Belard could have imagined.

"Screech——sizzle..."

"Ugh——damn it..."

The cold spearhead pierced through the knight's soft underarm, tearing through flesh and internal organs, and protruded from the collarbone.

The spear bent into an arc instantly, causing Belard to nearly faint from the pain, completely losing his balance.

"Thud!" Intense pain erupted from his waist and back, and the overcast sky tilted to one side, with fresh dark red blood flowing from the previous gunshot wound.

In his incredulous cries, Brune forcibly dragged him down with the spear.

As Brune retrieved the spear, the blood-stained tip was still entangled with Belard's torn gray-white blood vessels and flesh strands.

"Wait, wait..."

Blood gushed down like a waterfall, and the semiconscious Belard cried out indiscriminately.

His subconscious premonition sensed his impending fate.

Jonar stepped forward quickly, kicking open his visor, and fluidly drove a weapon sword through his mouth, gaping from pain.

"Wait..." With the weapon sword in his mouth, Belard still wanted to speak.

With a vigorous twist of the hand holding the sword, a few broken teeth flew out, and spinal fluid mixed with various bodily fluids flowed down Belard's throat.

The longspear withdrew the weapon sword, and blood dripped onto Belard's pallid face.

With a stiff neck, Belard's head fell heavily to the ground.

His wide eyes seemed to say he never expected to die at the hands of a farmer.

"Heh, ptooey, damn you!"

Stepping over Belard's face and crushing his prominent nose into his cheek, Brune again thrust his spear towards the infantry in front.

On a front line more than seventy meters wide, hundreds of infantry in the first row collapsed upon impact.

"Third and fourth brigades!" The brigade commander's order rang out, "Charge!"

"Reorganize the formation!" Pulling his spear from a corpse, Brune stepped back two paces, shouting at the people around him.

Two brigades of long spearmen rushed through the gaps, two rows of spears like a dense forest of steel, crashing into the chaotic peasant army.

"Die, you noble dogs!"

"Mama, watch me avenge you!"

The evaporating hot blood infused the moisture with a metallic rust smell, assaulting everyone's olfactory nerves present.

Screams of the dying, the caws of ravens, the spray of blood, and a step taken anywhere could crush someone's intestine or internal organs.

"Devil, it's a devil!"

"Why are there so many extraordinaries, Holy Father, save me!"

"Impossible, absolutely impossible!"

"It's a devil, retreat quickly!"

Under the relentless assault of the War Monks, after three rounds of replacement, the morale of over a thousand soldiers utterly collapsed.

The supporting infantry then retreated like an avalanche, at a faster pace than when they advanced.

Or rather, not just the infantry, after Belard's death, the knights lost their leader and began to fight independently.

The lucky ones could retreat with the infantry.

The unlucky could only be left like stranded starfishes on the shore, devoured by ant-like low-ranking extraordinary War Monks.

Bodies of knights fell from their horses like giant trees eroded at their base by floodwaters, collapsing one after another.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.