Within the Church army's position, black smoke billowed in chaos.

The few packed arrays occasionally shoved each other to make way for the guards half-engulfed in flames to rush out.

They screamed, carrying the smell of roasted meat and oil, as they dashed into the stream.

The clear water instantly extinguished the flames with a "sizzle", turning the once-clear brook muddy with embers and flesh, with oily speckles surfacing on the water.

As the black smoke and flames dispersed, the guards in the stream finally displayed a relaxed expression, standing up with hands on knees, only to scream in horror once again.

Looking down, they found their bodies covered in wrinkled skin and blisters oozing pus.

The tender flesh beneath their skin was exposed to the air, the piercing pain spreading throughout their bodies, many convulsing in pain, some even foaming at the mouth.

In this chaotic scene, the monks finally arrived with buckets of holy water, barely stopping the spread of the fireball's harm.

The holy water merely eliminated the fireballs, the subsequent flames igniting each other had to be doused with the stream water honestly.

Even with all this fuss, at least seventy to eighty died or were injured, with more than a hundred wounded, effectively reducing the force by at least two hundred.

This was not just the Armed Farmers, but bona fide guards and Armored Soldiers.

"Damn those goats." On the hill at the side of the war array, Count Koma exasperatedly wiped his face with a damp handkerchief, "These fireballs are too accurate."

Weighing the charred half-broken magic staff, Arman's face looked terrifyingly grim, "That's natural, they've equipped the fireballs with arrowheads, a ballista is definitely more accurate than a catapult."

Transferring his gaze from the magic staff to a spot not far away, three distinct creases formed on Arman's forehead.

Under the overcast sky, everything seemed draped in a dim veil, blurring all edges.

The warm winds rustled the chamomile by the fence, lifting the hems of the guards' clothes.

The ridged terrain was more than three meters above the ground, the guards' feet shuffled back and forth or stepped in place occasionally.

Beads of sweat ran down their foreheads, unsure if it was due to the heat or the residual warmth from the fireballs.

The array wasn't near Arman's position, yet he could still sense the smell of fear and restlessness.

Arman rubbed his thumb on his brow, for someone more adept at socializing and dueling, this large-scale battle involving over thirty thousand on each side was beyond his capability.

If only warfare could be as straightforward as seducing noblewomen.

He thought all the dragon's breath had been set off by his insiders, but unexpectedly, more kept appearing.

The fireball ballistae of Rapids City, in his view, had reached their limit, yet the Salvation Army surprised him again here.

This wave of ten fireballs actually hit all three infantry arrays, with one sustaining six fireball impacts alone.

The two forces haven't even engaged yet, and he already lost over a hundred men.

If he continued following the original plan, the infantry might collapse before they succeeded.

The total force besieging Rapids City was about 32,000 men, with those remaining consisting of the dissatisfactory Imperial Knight Company and roughly a thousand Armed Farmers and ordinary Foot Knights.

The other 21,000 troops departed since yesterday in turns, assembling at Vicentor Manor.

Before Horn and the others arrived, they had already gathered the troops in advance.

Twelve 30X50 colorfully misty large arrays, grouped in threes, arranged in front-back rows, formed four wedge-shaped formations.

These large arrays consisted of Armored Soldiers on the outer sides, and Spear Guards inside, with some Foot Knights forming assault points at the front of the array.

They called it the Deng Jia'er Array, but Deng Jia'er's real formation required high levels of training and strict demands on troop ratio and arrangement.

The large array Arman organized, except for the number of soldiers, was put together randomly, not even comparable to a monkey version.

However, in Arman's view, as long as it's not the Empire's regular veteran legion, it's perfectly suitable for suppressing a civilian insurgency.

Passing over rows of heads clad in hoods or wool hats, Arman pulled his gaze back to his own side.

Unlike the tightly packed infantry arrays, these highest-ranking knights, unlike these farmer rebels like Horn, wouldn't mix with infantry but were isolated at both wings.

The right wing comprised 1,200 local Knights led by Countess Marika and 600 Hired Knights, while the left wing had 300 of Arman's Imperial Knight Company and 900 Extraordinary Knights drafted from Hotam County.

Local Extraordinary Knights varied significantly in combat capability, ranging from Imperial Knight level to undesirable ones, all mixed together.

To the old Empire, Imperial Knight Companies equipped and structured by combat power were advanced military technology.

For local Noble Knights, combat ability wasn't tied to title, coupled with personal vendettas, often resulted in frequent disputes or inept Counts commanding skilled Knights.

Thus, it required a noble everyone recognized.

With Countess Marika's powerful family, Arman's widespread renown, and Count Koma being the bishop's lackey, these three held command authority.

"Shall we still remain idle?" Countess Marika slicked her greasy hair behind her ears, asking displeasedly.

She rode atop a burly Shayan Horse, the only giant horse that could support her frame.

Sparing Countess Marika a glance, Arman observed Mizam, still closing his eyes in leisurely repose, without uttering a word.

As the infantry commander, Count Koma squinted at the fireball ballistae firing again at the Salvation Army's formation, grimacing, "Sir, at least dismantle these front ballistae, otherwise, those timid guards will soon flee."

Of these Night Guards from the Armed Farmers, at least 8000 were drafted from Hotam County.

Having campaigned so long with already low morale, there might suddenly collapse at some volley of fireballs.

This was Arman's hesitation reason, he hadn't anticipated the Salvation Army's fireball ballistae being this precise.

If this accuracy continued bombarding, perhaps Count Koma's words would really come true.

"Stay still, moving means falling into their trap." Amid the commanders' woes, Mizam finally spoke, "Move to the windward side, gather brushwood, and ignite it."

"Will that work?" Koma scratched his head, "Smoke likely won't suffocate them."

Mizam opened his eyes at last, glancing at him, "Though I don't understand how these astrologers calculate position and distance without stars, they eventually rely on vision as a cornerstone of their divination.

Once the brushwood burns, and the smoke rises, obscuring their sight, they won't hit accurately anymore."

"But the second wave of fireballs is descending..."

"Then send the Hired Knights to charge, disrupt them, the main force mustn't move." Mizam replied without raising his head.

Seeing Mizam maintaining his evasive stance, Countess Marika couldn't hold back.

Unlike the timid Koma, she directly questioned, "We are the side with the advantage in numbers, what's the reason in waiting for them to attack?"

"That's something you should ask Bo Ao Lie and Nidesar." With what seemed a mocking laugh, Mizam turned his head but showed an extremely polite demeanor to Countess Marika, "Be patient, my courageous Marika, your moment to fight will come."

Countess Marika slammed her whip on the ground in front of Mizam, her eyes openly showing her impatience: "Wait wait wait, exactly how long do we have to wait?"

"Don't rush, my lady." Mizam said with a gentle smile, "Soon, we will wait until then."

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