Seeing the hired knights fleeing in all directions on the battlefield, Countess Marika stood dumbfounded.

This was completely different from what she had imagined!

In her view, the fireball crossbow was good, but its range was limited. By pushing it blatantly outside the battle formation, it exposed a huge flaw.

Sending some light cavalry to feint and charge, even just circling a few times, should have been enough to scare off the wizards operating the crossbows.

But what did she see now? The hired knights surging forward like a tide didn't scare those infantry at all!

And those Holy Gun Cavalry, with their aura of simplicity, managed to rout the hired knights with just one charge.

Shiny chain mail was stained with dark red blood, and those rebel "retainer knights" in breastplates drew wooden rods and iron sticks from their boots.

Sparks flew in the sound of gears turning and loud noises, and then a knight fell stiffly.

Fragments of armor flew through the air, and all the hired knights became like startled birds, either trembling and falling to the ground or desperately fleeing with bleeding wounds.

The scene before her left Countess Marika stunned.

You supposedly have six hundred extraordinaries! How could you be so easily defeated?

"Get back, get back!"

Ignoring the servants' attempts to stop her, Marika rode her horse out, whipping the fleeing hired knights ferociously: "I paid you all a fortune, and this is how you fight?"

"They use witchcraft, Countess," the panting hired knights complained, "Let the monks suppress them with divine art first before we fight."

"If the monks could run that far to cast divine art, then what would I need you for?!"

Countess Marika's red lips were frothing, and the unlucky hired knight leaders were sprayed with spittle.

After such a scolding, many of the hired knight captains looked unhappy.

The poor quality potions provided by Marika not only had bad effects but also side-effects; why was she blaming them instead?

But considering Marika's family background, these hired knight captains still held back.

"Your Excellency Marika, please retreat to the formation quickly!" A hired knight named Desai squeezed over, sweating heavily, "The rebel cavalry is coming."

Indeed, like sheep being driven by wolves, hundreds of hired knights were actually being herded by these Holy Gun Cavalry toward the main formation.

"Turn aside, turn aside!" Count Koma rode back and forth in front of the formation, but still, seventeen or eighteen of the out-of-control hired knights' warhorses charged into their own infantry formation.

Ten or so guards were knocked into the air, and they were trampled under their own horses' hooves before the battle had even officially begun.

The injured wailed and rolled on the ground, clutching their arms and chests and crying out exaggeratedly in pain and lamentation.

The neat sound of hooves grew closer. Just moments ago, driven by adrenaline, Marika hadn't felt anything, but now she realized her position was too far forward.

Seeing the cavalrymen wielding iron rods and page hammers charging in, Marika screamed: "Quick, move!"

The giant Shayan horse let out a pained cry, galloping back toward the main formation, chased by hundreds of hired knights.

In this view, it seemed instead that she was leading the hired knights in a charge toward their own position.

Lying awkwardly on the horse's back, Marika's face was trembling with fat.

This inelegant posture, which Marika had always tried to avoid, she couldn't do much about now in the face of survival.

This Shayan horse, after being chosen with a thousand considerations, turned out to be a fine horse, carrying Countess Marika faster than the hired knights, all the way back into the main formation.

The hired knights, however, were forced to collide with their own local extraordinary knights, stray bullets whizzing across the front of the formation, knocking down a few confused extraordinary knights.

They had never fought against the Salvation Army before; they had never seen such weapons.

The cavalry on the right flank were still in chaos, while in the center, the infantry had another problem.

Returning with Marika was also the second round of ten fireballs.

But possibly due to the increasing smoke on the battlefield and the previous charge of the hired knights, some disturbance was still caused to the astrologers.

In this round of ten fireballs, three missed, and one hit a supply wagon.

In the blazing flames of the supply wagon, six fireballs once again showered flames onto nearly a hundred people, black smoke and fire engulfing the large infantry formation once more.

Dusty and grimy, Marika finally emerged from the chaotic right flank of the cavalry formation, watching as her family's main force of knights rode out to drive off the Holy Gun Cavalry, her jaw clenched tightly.

"Lady Marika, are you alright?"

Hearing the familiar voice, Marika saw Count Koma and immediately questioned him: "Can we launch a full-scale attack now? This is the second round of fireballs; if we don't attack now, when will we?"

Count Koma turned his head, looked at Arman in the distance, and then turned back with just a sigh.

Marika raised an eyebrow, seemingly about to react, but after a few seconds, she fell silent.

Earlier, she had insisted on attacking, and as a result, she got a hired knight unit battered by the enemy.

After making a strategic error, her influence had greatly diminished, and saying more now was pointless.

Seeing Marika gloomily kick over a servant standing in her way, snapping his neck, her mood improved slightly.

"Alright, Priest Mizam must have his profound insights... Under the watchful eye of the Saint Master, we are bound to succeed... Don't take what just happened to heart..."

As Count Koma continued his incessant persuasion, the anger on Marika's face gradually subsided. She raised her right hand and interrupted Count Koma's words.

"Shh, did you hear that?" Marika lifted her head, her eyes squeezed into tiny slits by her fat, looking towards the direction of Rapids City.

Count Koma listened for a while, then asked blankly, "Hear what?"

"The bells." Marika stepped quickly out of the pavilion, jogging a couple of steps in that direction, "It's the bells coming from Rapids City."

"What do these bells mean?" Count Koma's large frame seemed like that of a small servant beside Marika.

"That is, that is..." Marika's eyes widened.

"It's the bells of Rapids City's downfall!" On the other side of the military formation, Arman said excitedly to Mizam, "Priest Mizam, listen quickly, Rapids City has fallen!"

"Hmm." With a blanket under his seat, Mizam sat cross-legged on a large rock, speaking lightly.

Originally unable to contain himself, Arman really couldn't hold back any longer. The third round of fireballs was about to smash down on their heads. If they didn't counterattack soon, the infantry would truly collapse.

"Lord Mizam, Rapids City has fallen; we should be launching an attack while their minds are unsettled.

If we don't attack now, once they've regained their composure, won't it be meaningless?"

"Why do you always think their minds are unsettled?" Mizam finally opened his eyes, "Do you still consider them as rebels?"

Arman was baffled by Mizam's rhetorical question: "If not treating them as rebels, then what should we regard them as?"

With a look of frustration, Mizam's gaze shifted toward the fireball catapult, which was being loaded for the third round: "Do you think we'd be in this sorry state if they were just rebels? Could rebels completely annihilate an entire command squad?"

"Uh..."

"A year ago, they were merely a group of foolish rioters, yet they managed to fend off twice the church's encirclement and capture Gulag Monastery.

Nine months ago, they were pursued across the land by the command squad but miraculously escaped the blockade into the Black Bone Marsh.

Half a year ago, they suddenly appeared in the Kush Territory, leading thousands of ordinary mobs to assassinate Duke Kush and once again escaped from the command squad's grasp.

Three months ago, they left Black Bone Marsh and, within one winter, trained a force capable of defeating the extraordinary army, even annihilating a command squad completely!

In the ensuing three months, they've astonishingly quelled all internal uprisings and successfully governed the territories of two towns.

Even ultimately defeating the Ibe Knights of Jinhe Town, including the Titled Knight Nidesar of Red Copper Fortress."

"Can you dare imagine what they might achieve with another three months?"

Standing up from the blanket, Mizam suddenly opened the corners of his eyes, which were usually drooped: "A year ago, a single squad of hired knights would have sufficed to handle them.

Yet now, we find ourselves forced into immobility. Do you know what this means?"

Having some realization internally, Arman still feigned ignorance, asking, "What?"

"Under equivalent or nearly equal forces, we have lost the capability of initiating an attack, because any flaw on our part could easily be exploited to defeat the opponent."

With his chest puffed, allowing the protective symbol in the shape of a character to sway with him, Mizam pointed distantly at the banners, "In other words, once we both enter the battlefield, whoever initiates the attack first loses the advantage."

That is what Nidesar and Bo Ao Lie failed to realize—

This group of rebels is no longer a mere rabble; their opponent has never been rebels, but a formal army of another state.

Yet they continue using tactics meant for rebels, as if they are playing with their lives.

Mizam never played fast and loose, especially concerning his own life.

Thus, upon realizing this, he promptly studied Horn's two battles at Black Mountain and Pavia, swiftly identifying the Salvation Army's weaknesses.

He discovered that nearly every major battle the Salvation Army engaged in was a positional warfare, and they always awaited the enemy's first move before countering.

Utilizing the terrain, as long as their formation remained intact, they could maximize the might of the "Devil's Wind."

If the Salvation Army wanted to engage in positional warfare, Mizam was adamant about not playing into that.

If the Salvation Army refused to move, Mizam would ensure they had to.

The key to forcing the Salvation Army to act was singular: their strategic objective for this expedition—rescuing Rapids City.

Now that Rapids City has fallen, the orders Mizam left for Ailard are to massacre the city!

Either the Salvation Army must sit by while Rapids City is slaughtered, destroying the Saint's Grandson's foundation in Lower Reif and Kasha,

or they must abandon the positional warfare advantage, march onto the plains, and contend directly with the command squad's strength.

In either case, the Salvation Army loses.

The only unplanned factor was the speed of Horn's reinforcements and the long-range fireball catapults.

But it doesn't matter, minor errors are trivial.

Observing the Salvation Army's formation growing restive across the way, Arman suddenly came to a realization. Mizam patted him on the shoulder with a smile, laughing lightly.

"I've meticulously planned everything before the battle; don't disappoint me, and definitely don't disappoint His Excellency Charles."

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.