Chapter 365: Battle of Black Mountain (9)
Amidst the harsh blasting sound as the air passed through the balance hole, lead particles swished past their eyes like locusts.
The scorching holy wind descended intensively on the chests and abdomens of these soldiers.
Bright red blood mist rose one after another from the front row of the military formation, and more heartbreaking cries than before came from the battle formation.
“Mom, I’m dead!”
"Don't block it, don't block it..."
"It's the devil's wind. Monk, hurry up and recite sutras."
The lead flew by his side, and Zelaken's heart almost burst from his throat. His eyes popped out, and his voice was as shrill as a eunuch amidst the sound of the gun: "Hey! Monks, use your invincible magic to think of a solution!"
The leader of the monks did not reply. He, Zelakken, turned around and looked.
Unexpectedly, I saw a blood hole appeared in the center of the forehead of the leading monk of the monks. He was lying peacefully on the ground with a smile on his face, without saying a word. It was clear from a glance that he died sweetly.
The remaining monks were sweating profusely as they rummaged through the Gospels: "It shouldn't be, it's all right, the time and place are right, why doesn't it work?"
"You ask me?" Seeing the soldiers in the front row fall, Zelaken grabbed the monk's neck without caring about the others, "Quick, suppress their spells."
"But it's useless. Ah, have we tried everything?" The monk was so anxious that he almost cried, "It doesn't work."
"Why doesn't it work?"
"Or it's the Holy Father. Appearance, or it’s not a spell at all.”
"It's not a spell, how could it be possible?" Zelaken let go of his hand, and the monk sat down on the ground, "It was clearly made of alchemical materials!"
A ridiculous idea appeared in Zelaken In my mind, if it is not a magic spell, is it possible that the holy wind is really a divine spell?
A theological system independent of the church? No, no, no, impossible, absolutely impossible.
Zelaken put the unrealistic thoughts behind: "Quick, use magic to prevent the guards from retreating."
"But their hearts cannot bear such an interval. A short second magical spell will lead to sudden death on a large scale.”
"Sudden death means sudden death. That is their glory. Use it quickly!"
.........
"The Third Brigade of the First Division of the Holy Gun, turn left and walk quickly!"
After the firing, the soldiers in the first row turned left or right in unison. The horizontal formation changed into a column and walked to the side of the spearmen, and turned into a horizontal formation again.
Round after round, the soldiers in the front row of the large square fell down one after another, blood flowing on the ground.
If it weren't for the blessing, they would probably have been unable to maintain their formation and escape.
Until the three rounds of firing were completed, the continuous explosions and the sound of lead bullets breaking through the air stopped, and the battlefield fell into a strange silence.
The guards who were huddled on the ground with their heads in their hands or simply lying down got up, raised their heads, and looked towards the direction where the holy wind was blowing.
When the three rows of holy musketeers receded from both sides, like rocks after low tide, the horizontal formation of spearmen was exposed in front of everyone.
The spear was hot in the sun, and the red pine gun shaft was placed on the elbow, pointing at the infantry square in front of him.
There was only 30 meters between them.
"Dududu——"
In the heart-stopping silence, the horn sound representing the charge sounded.
The six hundred spearmen stamped their right legs heavily on the ground, formed a 50X12 horizontal formation, and charged towards the large square formation in front of them with charging steps.
“One! One! One!”
This is the command for the pikemen when they advance. Due to the fast pace, the officer will omit the second command and only need to pause briefly after shouting the first command.
The commands for training steps were mixed with the "chacha" sound of clothing and armor rubbing together, creating a different kind of rhythm.
The neat and rapid clicking sounds are getting closer and closer. Amid the blood mist and the fear of their fallen comrades, these soldiers are still carefully adjusting the distance from their teammates.
After all, they subconsciously felt that the two sides still had at least one minute before fighting.
But after a hundred long guns approached in two double rows, the armored sergeants who were the commanders of the team suddenly changed their colors. This kind of speed was something he had never seen before. The rebel's spear was still blurry in the distance for a second. When he lowered his head and raised his head, it was so bright that it was almost reaching his eyes.
Behind these double layers and two rows of spears, there is still a dense jungle of steel.
"Why so fast? Reorganize the formation, quickly reorganize the formation!" An armored sergeant standing in the front row commanding shouted with a deafening voice.
Many guards' expressions changed even more. They desperately tried to block the gap or escape, pushing and squeezing each other, causing the originally neat large square array to swing left and right.
Under the continuous impact, it would be great if these infantrymen did not escape, let alone fill the missing vacancies.
Closer, closer.
"For victory." Victor, who was running on the front line, gritted his teeth and gave the order, "Run and charge!"
The spearmen who were still running at a constant speed suddenly accelerated again, At this moment, the distance between the two sides was only less than ten meters.
"Farmer!" An armored sergeant gave a loud and ferocious greeting, and raised the ax in his hand high as usual.
However, what is different from usual is that the farmer rebels in front of them are not intimidated by the tomahawk.
The tips of hundreds of spears rotated, and 100 spearmen landed heavily on their right feet at the same time, thrusting their spears forward.
The spear head, heated by the sun, broke through the chainmail and penetrated into the soft chest. The armored sergeant felt as if he had been pierced by a branding iron.
Then the second row of spears protruded like poisonous snakes and suddenly pierced his throat.
The armored sergeant took two steps back, his eyes seemed to pop out of his sockets in disbelief.
He covered his chest with one hand and his throat with the other, as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out.
The thick body fell heavily, splashing a pool of blood.
The guards in the first row had just been hit by volley guns. Some of them were still lying on the ground, while others were trying to take up positions from behind. There was no time to make any defensive gestures.
“Ah——”
“I surrender, I surrender.”
“Cough cough cough——”
"Kneel down and don't kill, kneel down and don't kill!"
"Who are you?" He kicked down the guard who was kneeling on the ground and shouted, "Kneel down and don't kill." War monk Malok frowned Eyebrow, "Why are you shouting, kneel down and not kill?"
The spear rolled back and forth like waves and stabbed, like dominoes, the soldiers in the front row fell one after another.
Blood flowed from the mouth, nose and blood holes, rolling down on the ground accompanied by wailing sounds.
The light balls representing blessings in the formation kept flying up. The monks completely ignored the heart endurance of the guards and forcibly threw these blessings on them.
Even so, it still could not stop the decline of the infantry.
"Can you still resist? I'll call Lord Niedersall over right away." Zelakken shouted at the armored sergeants.
But these armored sergeants are not in the mood to pay attention to him. They are trying their best to organize formations to resist.
"Withdraw, give the order to withdraw. If you don't withdraw, we will have to deal with it here."
"Lord Zelaken, let's withdraw quickly."
"Bring at least three heads, at least one head." Zelaken shouted towards the armored sergeants.
"We don't have time to cut off people's heads. Let's go quickly."
"How about you hold on for a while and cut off a person's head..."
"You kill me Cut off the head and put it on..." Before the armored sergeant could finish his words, he was shot through the body by a rain of arrows falling from the sky.
Standing at the side and rear of the phalanx, surrounded by a group of guards, looking at the 2,000-person phalanx that was being killed by 600 spearmen and retreating continuously, Zelaken let out a long sigh.
He finally recognized the reality and waved his hand in a dazed manner: "Archers shoot arrows to cover, retreat."
(End of Chapter)