Charge, only charge.

This was the only thought in Arman's mind.

Without the help of infantry, they had already lost this battle.

But the thin formation of the Gallar Array meant they couldn't stop the knights from escaping.

By continuing the charge, they could escape; lying on the horse's back, the emblem flag of three roses flapped wildly on the flagpole.

Behind the frontline formation of the Black Hat First Corps was the second line, formed by the Black Hat Fifth and Sixth Corps.

"Son of a witch!" The adjutant beside him cursed during the charge, "I wondered why this warhorse couldn't run faster? Your Excellency, look at the horse's legs."

Arman looked down and saw layers of sticky white webbing on the horse's legs and hooves. The more the horse ran, the tighter the webs tightened, naturally slowing them down.

He suddenly realized that when they were fighting the soldiers of the Gallar Array, the sticky unknown objects they threw were web projectiles.

However, Arman and his men didn't have the time to dismount and clear away the webs.

They entered the terrifying eighty-meter range, which was within the firing range of the Holy Guns.

But Arman no longer had the knights to block the bullets for them; this time, it was their turn to face those terrifying lead shot themselves.

"Praise the Holy Wind!"

With the wave of Juer Dan's feather spear, the wind stirred by the clockwork key once again agitated the previously calm air.

From the front and side, wave after wave, three successive waves of lead shots mixed with iron sand attacked the knights from all sides.

The knights around him were suddenly knocked down even though they were charging well. Even lying on the horse, one still had to be cautious to timely control the horse's jumps, lest crashing into companions.

By the time Arman once again charged into the second line of the Salvation Army Array, there were only a little over three hundred knights left.

Still charging knights, still high-flying walking combat cultivators.

But unlike before, this time, there were an unusually large number of knights dismounted. Under the swing of spears and axes, the horses suffered numerous wounds, and knights were easily dragged down.

The Holy Gunmen were still reloading, but the sound of the gears turning revealed the urgency of time.

Perhaps due to various factors before, this time Arman's charge was exceptionally difficult, and even his calf was pierced through by a bullet.

Thick blood flowed from his calf along the ground, but under the influence of drugs, he didn't feel much pain.

Struggling to break through the second line of the Salvation Army's troop line, the knights who followed Arman to the third line of battle were noticeably fewer.

Breathing heavily, Arman shook his head to suppress the dizziness caused by the drugs: "How many are left?"

"Over two hundred people, Your Excellency, only sixty-seven Imperial Knights left!"

"Mad, Mad!" Arman had been psychologically prepared but still hadn't expected the casualties to be so significant.

Previously, breaking through the first layer of the array only cost around eighty or ninety knights.

It must have been the layers of encirclement, webs, and Devil's Wind that slowed down their horses, leading to such dire consequences.

Previously on the Kingdom battlefield, when he led 600 cavalry to charge through a massive array of fifty columns, they only lost a little over two hundred knights, including a dozen Imperial Knights.

This thin Georgian Array of six columns, in total, was only half the size of a massive array, yet so many were lost.

Despite Mizam's poor practice this time, the accuracy of his judgment against the Salvation Army was indeed remarkably precise.

"Keep charging out." With the hope of escape in sight, Mizam's previously disheartened spirit improved significantly. He gritted his teeth and glanced at the Sun Gear Flag, "I will report to the Pope and let the Pope launch the Chao Character Army!"

With the current losses of the Imperial Knights and the face of Prince Kongdai, along with his firsthand understanding of the Salvation Army and eloquent penmanship, the Chao Character Army was a certainty.

Meanwhile, Arman was also looking at that Sun Gear Flag, remembering this symbol deeply. He raised the flag in his hand pointing forward: "Everyone, follow me... Holy Father's ass! What's that?"

All the knights turned their gaze towards the last battle line.

What is that?

The black smoke was blown away by the wind, as if unveiling a curtain, revealing several dozen fireball ballistae standing silently.

Behind each fireball ballista stood a wizard, fireballs emitting heat already gathered at the top of the magic staffs.

They were calm and focused, just waiting for that final moment.

"Holy Father, you must be kidding me!" Arman cried out in a breaking voice.

The strike hammers came down, the mechanisms and gears rotated, the bowstrings twanged, and the red Dragon's Breath Fireballs filled with flames instantly shot towards these two hundred knights.

The fireball's tail flame cut a dazzling arc in the air; they had just glimpsed the firelight, and now it was already upon them.

It was only a distance of fifty meters, and the fireball's speed was so fast that Arman couldn't dodge in time.

"Your Excellency Arman!" Several Imperial Knights leaped up, and the horses beneath them emitted the sound of fracturing spines.

Instinctively raising his hand to block, Arman was pushed off the horse by his men and the wave of fire, and even his helmet was thrown off.

All fifteen remaining Dragon's Breath Fireballs exploded; the charging knights were engulfed in flames and black smoke, screams filled the air, and they fell to the ground ablaze.

The exploding fire dragon swept through the air, igniting dozens of knights on the spot.

Mizam, lacking Arman's agility, was struck in the back of the head by a fireball, suffocating in unconsciousness before his entire head was engulfed in flames.

The warhorse beneath him, unaware that its master was dead, continued to gallop across the battlefield with this flaming skull head.

The knights in flames were forcibly divided into several pieces by the fire waves. Seeing this, a few former purple-faced hired knights could no longer endure and were the first to shout: "Arman is dead, Arman is dead!"

"Nonsense, the Lingya Knight isn't dead!" A few personal guards immediately stood out to refute the rumor.

Their denial was of no use, for at this moment Arman's warhorse, draped in flames, let out a painful roar, rolling and galloping in the center of the battlefield, trying to extinguish the dreaded fire with the wind.

The knights who were originally on the periphery, attempting to charge and entangle, lost all their fighting spirit upon witnessing the burning warhorse.

If even the invincible Arman had fallen, what meaning was there to continue fighting?

As the Church Army's morale collapsed, to make matters worse, the Holy Gunmen of the two corps from the third line of the Imperial Guard gathered and fired their guns.

The whistling bullets glided under the sky, as the knights, slowed by flames and long gun axes, scrambled to lie flat on horseback.

The crisscrossing bullets struck with hissing sounds, piercing into flesh with puffs, and the acrid smell of burning filled the nostrils alongside the stench of vaporizing blood.

Crows descended from the sky, eagerly beginning their feast on the heated blood meal.

The knights, who had barely maintained their formation, immediately scattered like birds and beasts.

Only the Imperial Knights continued to charge towards the flank, trying to escape, only to be greeted by a blinding flash of thunder.

"Woo-woo-woo——"

"Charge!" The horn for the charge sounded again, but this time it was the Salvation Army that played it.

With orderly strides, the Salvation Army's walking combat cultivators, leveling their spears, began their usual charge.

Pushing away the charred body of a personal guard burnt by fire from his back, Arman struggled to get up, his palm burnt by the flames, and his calf pierced by a bullet.

On the battlefield, where bullets and knights flew past, the sound of the Black Hat Legion turning to strike from behind approached from behind.

The ground and shrubs were scorched black, and in the gray misty light and shadows, there were flames flickering and withered branches dyed in fire everywhere.

It felt like Fire Prison.

The dried blood on his face cracked, and Arman silently laughed; his knights hadn't even engaged with any cavalry before being pinned down by wizards and infantry.

He was confident that even if Prince Kongdai were in his position, defeat would still be inevitable.

The only difference might be that Prince Kongdai could rely on his extraordinary martial prowess to fight his way out with dozens of personal guards.

The Deng Jia'er Array had already sounded the alarm, yet the proud knights were still indulging in the glories of the past.

"Boom——"

Blazing white light rose not far away as a knight entwined all over with electric snakes, like a Valkyrie, approached with slow steps.

After breaking away from the entangled local knights, Jeanne finally arrived on the battlefield in time, standing before Arman.

Dressed in a breastplate wrapped with white cloth and gold-plated Chaotic Character Frames, her neck guard propped under her chin, preventing her from lowering her head, she could only gaze downward at Arman from the corner of her eyes.

"Arman, you've committed a devil's crime, and the Holy Father has sentenced you to death. Do you submit to execution?!"

Electric snakes struck the helmetless forehead of a personal guard, making the attacking knight suddenly straighten and stiffly collapse to the ground.

"Don't move, go back." Scolding the personal guards, Arman slowly stepped towards Jeanne.

The Holy Gun Cavalry beside them immediately drew their holy guns and aimed them at Arman.

"No need, let him come over."

Arman limped forward, a most charming smile of his life appearing on his handsome face.

"Oh witch, oh witch, the most beautiful roses grow the most poisonous thorns." Arman stopped in front of Jeanne's horse, looking at the female knight before him.

"Smooth talker!" Jeanne snorted coldly, and a flash of lightning struck, drawing black cracks on the wooden pole, raising the flag gun and aiming at Arman.

"Beautiful lady, perhaps you won't believe it, but at first sight, I felt my dislike for witches might be unnecessary—I must fall in love with you."

"Unnecessary." A trace of tenderness flashed in Jeanne's eyes. "Whether I'm a witch or not, there already is... You knight, are indeed rude!"

Arman paused for a moment, then chuckled softly, "Then I must meet him. Adding a witch's name to my list would be my life's wish."

"Fickle and filthy!" Jeanne murmured discontentedly.

With his throat pressed against Jeanne's flag gun and blood flowing along the spear tip to his collarbone, Arman restrained his smile and asked expressionlessly, "So, the glorious era has ended, hasn't it?"

"Your glory is false." With dark circles under her eyes, Jeanne's eyes shimmering with electric snakes, "The era of knights has ended!"

The black smoke dispersed as guards fled across the hills, while the knights, chased by the Cuirassiers, frantically jumped into the water.

Amidst the battlefield, a gear sun flag roamed, bringing thunderous cheers wherever it went.

"Perhaps, anyway, it no longer matters..." Closing his eyes, Arman took a step forward in relief.

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